The Sweetest Gift
“We are all going to die at some point, Xavier.”
A random conversation about Cancer and death happened in my kitchen the other night with my 11 year old. He looked at me, silently for a second, processed what I said, and replied “Yeah, you are right.”
One thing that I love about my relationship with my son is that I can say things like that to him and he understands my intent. My point behind it was not to scare him. In fact it was to do the exact opposite: take his fear of dying away, because we cannot control it.
When it is our time to go to where ever it is we go after we die is completely out of our grasp.
For as long as I can remember up until recently – (the past couple of years) – my biggest fears were spiders(still terrified), talking in front of people (working on it) and dying. Or death in general, really. Not many people in my life, thankfully, have passed away. I was blessed to have relationships with all of my grandparents. They were hands down 3 of the most important relationships of my entire life, and I am thankful for each of their influences on who I am today.
Back in August, a family friend lost her daughter tragically. I never met her, but her passing hit home on a ridiculously deep level. As a mother, the thought of losing my child ever … but especially as young as my friend’s daughter was taken from her … was unimaginable to me. I sobbed, thought, prayed, and looked for ways to preserve my kids’ lives and protect them from all of the hurt in the world differently than I had before.
Watching how much this 9 year old child has effected so many people all over the world over the past 3 months has attributed to my evolving thought process about life. Tremendously.
Selfishly, we become sad or angry when a person is ripped from our lives unexpectedly, and that is okay. But, they served their purpose here and are needed elsewhere for bigger, more important reasons.
We are all gifts, you know. I never realized that until Rachel.
To cry and miss the person who is gone is appropriate, because you physically will never have that opportunity to wrap your arms around them. Just because they are physically gone, doesn’t mean that they aren’t with you still.
I still talk to my Papa. Daily sometimes.
In a perfect world, I would wrap you all up in my love and we would never have to say goodbye. Since that is not possible, I think it would be best to find our purpose and serve it while we are still here … and enjoy all of the gifts we are surrounded by, rather than being terrified for the day when they are gone.
And that is what I told my son as I wrapped my arms around him tightly.
Click to watch The Sweetest Gift.
What do you think your gift is?
If you don’t know, what would you want it to be?
Don’t Be A Happy-Leech
Man. It is extremely hard to focus on changing my mind-set.
I wake up in the morning and before I hop into the shower at ass crack early, I have to force a positive.
Even if it is something as simple as “The first outfit you put on will look as cute on, as it does in your head” No matter how hard I try to will this positive to be so … I have a 50/50 shot of it happening.
It is a risk worth taking to move from “God you are fucking fat” … to that.
A wise asshole once told me that if you tell yourself something enough times, it becomes truth. YOUR truth.
I am really making an effort to live this way every single day. Not just for show, but for serious. From the inside out. I feel like if I make it a point to look at myself every day and find something, ONE thing that I can truly say about myself and my life that is a genuinely good thing … so can everyone else. Right?
Right?!
I read a quote today that read “Life is too short to spend time with people who suck the happiness out of you.” How fucking true is that?! How many of you have 1 or 2 people who, bless their little hearts, are the most Debbie Downer, happy-leeches that you ever did meet?!
Gah. I am over that. I am over trying to help people be happier them’s. Either you are going to be happy with the hand you have been dealt or you aren’t. And, if you aren’t … you better be spending your waking moments figuring out how the next hand will be dealt in your favor, or we can’t do business. Not I, nor can anyone else help with that. Especially not if you are not willing to roll up your sleeves and get your hands dirty while changing your way of living and thinking.
I have my eye on all of the people in my life right now. Every single relationship. New and old.
I am asking myself the important questions:
How do we benefit each other?
Is our relationship toxic?
Where is the toxicity coming from?
Can it be healed?
Do we want to put in the effort TO heal and mend the relationship?
No matter what – for me to keep a person in my life going forward – they have to be dedicated to their own happiness. It is a must. Otherwise, that person is slowly sucking the happy out of not only me, but all of the people surrounded by them.
You have to put in the work to have happiness in your life. Own it. Control it. Embrace it.
It has taken me many years of negative thinking to realize it … but I am there, and I am knee deep in my own shit – dedicated to shoveling myself out of it.
I hope I look to my left and see you just as deep in your own shit as I am in mine, shovel in hand … with a motherfucking smile on your face.
Give me a happy in your life. Just one. If you aren’t feeling it today … dig deep. I know you have one in there.
The Road Less Traveled
Gah. Those of you who have been with me for years, either in real life or by the way of blogs/social networking have learned a couple of things about me:
1) I change my mind a lot.
2) I have gone through different “passions” in my schooling journey.
*shrug*
What can I say? I like a lot of things.
So rewind back to a couple of weeks ago when I was sitting in my advisors office:
Him: “So tell me, what do you want to be when you grow up?”
Me: “Man that is a loaded question. I want to own my own business, for starters.”
Him: “Oh! So you want to get your associates in business then.”
Me: “No.”
Him: “Excuse me?”
Me: “Business classes are boring.”
Him: “So you want to own your own business, but you don’t want to take business classes.”
Me: “Right.”
Him: “… okay. What classes do you want to take?”
Me: “I also want to be … a journalist.”
Him: “How does that play in to you owning your own business?”
Me: “It doesn’t really. I just want to do a lot of things in my life.”
Him: “Okay …”
You cannot see it in this conversation, but I had an “AHA” moment, right about the point where I said “I also want to be … ”
A journalist. A storyteller. A person who has the ability to emerge into major events, tragedies and movements … building the trust of the people, so I may depict what actually happened.
From their eyes.
Being a journalist is a double edge sword. Unfortunately, the media as a whole has a bad reputation of only putting out information that they want us, society, to know about — and that information is not always as truthful as it should be.
It makes me wonder if I would struggle in that sense. Obviously I would love to be one of the newscasters on MSNBC that reports from Afghanistan, Ethiopia, or from some amazing event that makes the world stop breathing for a split second, but if that means I have to lie my way to the top … I will pass.
Maybe what I should be focusing on is changing the game … starting a new generation of journalists. Ones who feel the way that I feel about storytelling.
Passionate. Driven. Excited to tell raw and honest happenings. Ones who stand up to the bullshit and care just enough about political correctness to say the right thing … while still telling the truth.
Is there anyone out there that feels that way? Or has societal greed and keeping up with the Joneses brainwashed us into doing whatever it is that we need to do to hit a certain monetary worth?
Fuck I hope not.
My mission is to find my like minded storytellers on this journey to journalism, the road less traveled by us it seems … and start a movement to put others’ first and our own financial gain last.
It is possible, you know — to have both.
I am sure of it.
What is your passion? Do you live and breathe it every day?
Who do you believe is the most influential story teller of all time? Why?
Better Late Than Never
When I was little, I used to picture my wedding. I am sure I have blogged about it before somewhere on the interwebs.
In a nutshell – it was one of 2 scenarios:
On a beach, at sunset OR at the Aboretum in Autumn.
What it was not was a cluster fuck of drama and other people’s bullshit. <-- That is what I was witness to recently at a friends wedding.
(Ya’ll wanted me to blog … now you get to deal with my pent up word vomit.)
My friend is as unorganized as she is beautiful. She is a ball of chaotic energy that I wonder how we can bottle it and sell it on the black market. She has the biggest heart on the planet. She is raw and real and I have watched her shed her skin to become one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen.
On the inside.
See – she is stunning on the surface. But that is nothing compared to the soul she carries inside of her. For a woman to have endured such heartache in her life … her soul is flawless.
When she asked me to be in her wedding, I was flattered. I was also terrified because I knew that with great honor would come even greater heartbreak. She surrounds herself with strays. People who are selfish and abusive. They take advantage. They put everything else before her.
Very few whom she loves actually appreciates her.
But I smiled and accepted, and I gave my $.02 on the wedding as she asked. She changed her mind a million and a half times on pretty much everything that had to do with the wedding … but none of that mattered. If you heard her speak on it, this celebration was going to be one to remember. A royal affair, if you will.
When I arrived, nothing had been done, other than the tables. Not a morsel had been cooked … not a decoration in sight. Still she smiled a beautiful smile and hugged me tight. I smiled back, with concern in my eyes – but it wasn’t about what I thought. It was about what needed to be done to accomplish her perfect day.
I coordinated and delegated, because no one was taking initiative. Little by little, the food was cooked, the tables were set … and everything started to come together. For awhile there, it felt like what a celebration should feel like. People were beginning to show up. Late, but … hey … I guess better late than never was the theme of the day, wasn’t it?
You could hear music and laughter. Kids ran around the backyard. The sun shone brighter than it had all day long. For a split second – it was what it was supposed to be.
When that second was over with, you could almost hear the rumble of selfishness roll in. The dark cloud of what some would call family loomed over her precious moment. The music stopped. Literally. Her brother, the DJ, had “other things to do” … so he packed up his equipment, and left us in silence as we scrambled to figure out a back up situation.
“I have somewhere to be at 6″
What wedding have you ever been to, that the DJ leaves before the guests, or only spins for 2 hours?
Family, huh?
What mother of the bride leaves early because her sister is in yet another crisis? And by crisis, I mean another drug induced tantrum where she didn’t get her way. AGAIN.
What sister-in-law leaves HER house that she is supposed to be HOSTING the wedding for HOURS, without lifting a finger to assist?
Family.
What bridesmaid shows up hours late, when they were the one of most help to the bride during all of the planning?
Friends.
If you have ever been to a wedding, you would know that this was not what you would expect in one. I went in knowing that things would happen that I never expected, but never anything like this, and with all of the bad, there was also some amazing good.
The flowers were beautiful. Her maids were fantastic. The food turned out phenomenal. And the bride?! She looked like a princess. As quickly as she wanted to bag the whole thing – we were able to remind her why we were ALL still here – to celebrate the love she and her (now husband) have shared for going on 6 years.
I thoroughly enjoyed sharing her day with her, even though I left feeling heartbroken for her. As long as I have known her, I have known how her family treats her.
She asked me to blog about her wedding months before the day. After I left, I thought long and hard about how I would keep my promise to her without making her feel like shit about what she already knew, while still being honest and telling the truth.
It was a relief when we spoke and she gave her blessing to tell it like I saw it … because she knew that no matter what, I would do my best to make it beautiful. She also learned her lesson, once and for all. Her family will always be her blood – but they will also always be the people they have grown to be, and, no matter how many chances she gives them, they will continue to treat her and everyone else the way they always have.
I feel so blessed to have had an opportunity to spend her special day with her — the good AND the bad. I love my friend very much.
If nothing else, I learned a valuable lesson in how my actions effect others. I also learned that with great beauty comes ugliness, and it is up to us to decide which we want to see.
It seems to be easier to see the grey skies and rain clouds when we are in the moment. Sometimes, anyway. We all could have bitched and moaned about what was going wrong that day. What wasn’t happening. Who didn’t show up like they said they would.
I caught myself a couple of times, vocalizing my disdain for the fucking assholes that put themselves before my beautiful friend … until I reminded myself what really mattered, and why I was really there: Love.
We have to step outside ourselves every once in awhile to really grow, and learn important life lessons. I find myself doing this a lot lately – and as uncomfortable as it is – it feels really good to have an understanding of my small part in this big world.
What is a life lesson that you have learned recently?
Oh Yes Son, I’m Talkin’ to You.
It always seems like a good time to write a blog when shit is pissing me off OR when people need to get punched in the face.
SameSame.
I am sick of the phrase “it is what it is”. Stop saying it.
1) It IS NOT what it is if you make it something else
2) That is such a passive aggressive statement.
To me, people who constantly say this phrase are always going to refer to it when they are too fucking unmotivated to change whatever “IT” is.
“My boyfriend is a piece of shit … oh well … it is what it is I guess.”
Are you fucking serious?! If your boyfriend is a piece of shit – LEAVE HIM. It is that simple. “It is what it is” translates to “I don’t think I am worth anything better so I will just settle for this loser motherfucker and bitch about it every 5 seconds of my life.”
I am over it. O.V.E.R.
I wrote a letter to my fat self yesterday. It was my half-assed attempt to kick start my absent motivation to get it together. My pants are snugger than they should be – and it is 10000000000000000% my fault. It worked, for the most part … but I am still too tired with very little time to do anything I need to do in order to feel good again. Why am I opposed to working out at home? I don’t know. That is goal #1. Crunches again before work and bed. Well, I guess it is goal #2 … because goal #1 was taking the stairs 3 flights every day, 2 times a day.
I hate that shit so much at 8AM.
I am sick of people asking me when I am going to have another baby. UM NEVER. And then when I say “never”, they are like “oh suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuure you won’t.”
Bitch what about NEVER did you not understand. I get that when I see a baby I freak the fuck out and smell their fucking faces off … but then I get to give them back. HELLO. Best part of not being the owner of a newborn EVAR.
Speaking of parenting, and babies … I am sick and tired of irresponsible parents. Parents that put everything in front of their kids. Parents that would rather take care of a man than their child. Parents that get fucking pregnant because they apparently forgot what fucking birth control is (I know there are exceptions so shut it) and run around the hood, high, drunk and unsanitary as fuck.
“Oh I never wanted this baby”
Bitch nobody asked you. Now, you have kidS that are out there, being put in foster homes because instead of getting your shit together like YOU ALREADY HAD DONE, you are shooting drugs in your arms like it is your full time JOB and neglecting your GD responsibilities. Guess what? It stops being about what you want when you procreate. Everyone is fighting to save this beautiful child from you and your toxicity.
“But I love him.”
Again. It stops being about what you want when you have a kid. No one should have any part of anything if you aren’t able to take care of your child.
Watching these kids suffer because of their idiot, selfish, SICK fucking parents makes me so sad.
My life is not perfect. I am not the perfect wife, perfect friend, or the perfect mom. My kids drive me nuts, and I have been told that I yell too much when I get angry. I have very little patience, and sometimes I demand my way.
I get it.
But the difference between myself and my observations (I think) is that I own my shit. Always. Even if it sucks and I am embarrassed by my own mistakes. I put my kids first. Even when it fucking blows and I REALLY don’t want to.
Random thoughts I have had recently:
Stop waiting for life to happen to you. Stand up and do that shit yourself.
Stop guilting your way into things.
Knock off fakeness. Be real for a fucking change.
I have zero desire to see your penis.
Your drama makes me never want to hang out with you.
Negativity and insecurity will get you nowhere.
Lastly,
“If you don’t like where you are in life, then change it. You are NOT a tree.” <-- my mantra.
Who are YOU talkin’ to?!
Grown Up Path
I am a Gemini. As true to description as anyone I know.
I am a mind changer and a dreamer. As a kid I didn’t want to be one thing, like my friends did. I had a list of things that I wanted to be when I grew up. That list evolved into bigger lists, smaller lists … it had doodles on the sides.
At some point I began to explore the items on my list. Of course I started with the easiest or fastest ones. I am an instant gratification whore and want my successes NOW rather than LATER so it made sense to accomplish and self high-5 myself all of the way through them.
This fact brings me back to being a Gemini. I get bored. Quickly. As quick as I am to be EXCITED and DEDICATED to my very next “thing” … I am over it. If it becomes something that is meh or blah or … I will drop it like a bad habit.
Interior Design. (I can’t draw.)
Culinary School. (It made me hate cooking. Loathe it actually)
Chemical Dependency Counseling (It gave me the answers I was looking for to understand my husband and his battles with addiction, but it wasn’t a passion for me.)
Don’t ask me why I am this way because I ask myself all of the time. I have a million half finished talents … but not one that I am expert at.
Rewind back to a few weeks ago when I was sitting in front of my advisor.
We were going back and forth about how I am going to eventually open up my own coffee stand, but I have zero interest in the business program at the school.
Him: “So you want to own a business but don’t want to go to school to run a business?!”
Me: “Yep.”
Him: “blink blink”
We sit there, in a stand-off of opinion for several minutes before he let me win and he decided to take a different approach. Maybe he thought he was gonna change my mind? I don’t know. He started asking me questions. What do I like? What do I love? Tell him the things that drive me and make me feel good when I am doing them.
Research
Photography
Writing
Current Events
Telling stories
Making people feel good
Reading
Investigation
Reporting (not analysis)
All of a sudden he shot up with delight. “JOURNALISM!” He exclaimed. Like he was telling me something that I didn’t already know. See, I have always written. Journals, poems, short stories … a BOOK for cry-eye. But I never really thought about Journalism. Not seriously anyway.
So as much as it was a “Duh” moment … it was also a “lightbulb” moment for me.
It has always come back to Journalism in one way or another. I will always express myself in written form better than verbally. I will always enjoy taking pictures, and capturing moments that take a persons breath away when they click on the thumbnail to enlarge it. I will forever be captivated by other people and their lives, and to have the privilege to tell them to the world is something that burns a passion inside of me that is not explainable. Not even by the most talented journalist in the world.
And they wouldn’t even try to. Why? Because they feel it too.
I am pretty excited to begin my journey. Truthfully, I feel like I have been on it for years. Only, I was wandering around aimlessly before. Now I am on a path, walking toward a specific direction.
Join me?
Do you know what you want to be when you grow up?
Beautiful Like Me
It is unfortunate that it takes tragedy to slap us in the mouth and remind us what the hell is important in life.
Or maybe it is just me.
The last 2 weeks have been fucked up for a lot of people and I am most likely one of the least affected by it. In the bigger picture, it doesn’t matter who knows who better. It really doesn’t. Love is love and if a person feels compelled to reach out and comfort someone who is hurting, however they know how to is an amazing thing … and … being able to feel and grow happens to us all, sister or acquaintance … especially when you are stung with something unexpected and so close to home.
Close to home means (to me anyway) you look at your life differently because of it. Whatever ‘it’ happens to be. The finest line ever is the one where you either take from it and grow to be a better human being OR you take from it and make it about you.
If you do this – please stop. It is so ugly.
Anyway, my life has been affected greatly by the loss of another’s child. Partly because I have kids, but partly because it was an unexpected and tragic loss of a person. Rachel could have been 90 and as loved as she was (is) I am certain that, although it would have affected me differently, I still would feel the way I feel right now.
Uncomfortable.
I look at my kids differently today. I hug them tighter. I listen better. I thank my lucky stars that I have them and I remind them how loved they are. Not that I didn’t do that before. But I am differently conscious of it.
That is the smaller part of it.
I have an unsettling feeling inside of me. I feel like I have been focusing on all of the wrong things.
Career
Money
Weight
Image
Size
Opinions of others
None of it matters. Not a single one of those things matter at all for any reason. Why do I get up in the morning and tell myself how disgusting I am in the mirror because of a stigma that has been set by other people about what beautiful looks like. Why do I cover up in front of the one person who loves me the most? Why do I let what I think others think when they see me affect what I think of myself?
Granted, the top 2 things matter most out of all of those things, right? Because unfortunately quality of life takes money, and career is what brings in the money to have the quality of life that is comfortable. It doesn’t need to consume us though, right? We shouldn’t be working when we are with our families … and we shouldn’t take advantage of what we have because we are so caught up in what we don’t have.
But we do. We wish for better bodies or hair or skin … and daydream about things that we want to own rather than enjoying the things that are amazing surrounding us.
Family
Health
Laughter
Music
Inner Beauty
Children
I have been going back and forth with myself over the past 2 weeks, trying to focus on the good things. Talking myself UP instead of DOWN. Saying “I love you” as often as possible and smiling because it feels good to make another person smile because of mine. It is not easy. It takes work and commitment to really change your mentality from pessimism and unhappiness to genuine appreciation of every single thing in your life. Even some of the bad.
I have started with me. Gone are the days of chastising myself for not going to the gym because I am genuinely tired and belittling myself for every morsel of food I eat. I am not doing it anymore. All of the negative self-talk effects OTHER people in my life and the last thing I want someone to remember me by is how negative I was or how unhappy I seemed. I am going to start loving the me that I am. If I lose 10 pounds I will be ecstatic. Until then, I am going to love the body I have. I am going to take care of it the best I can.
Hopefully past that all of the other things that I need to be grateful for will come naturally.
No matter what though, I am going to start being beautiful like me, not beautiful like you or anyone else and that beauty is going to come from where it is supposed to come. Inside of me. Because let’s face it – when it is our time to go, be it tragically or naturally … all that is left is our souls. If that is ugly … none of us will make it very far in this Universe.
Thoughts?
Do What You Can
We live in a society where manners are non-existent. I have talked about this in other blogs in the past – that we have little to no awareness of the world around us. It is something that I struggle with on a daily basis.
It is something that, if I ruled the world, I would change immediately.
This past week and a half has been an overwhelming time for my circle, and the circles that surround the people in my circle. I kept asking myself the same question over and over in my head as I hugged my kids and tucked them into bed.
“How do you smile and appreciate the blessings you have when someone you know … be it a best friend, brother … or even just an acquaintance loses their child?”
The answer is that you ‘do what you can’.
When the group of friends and I started brainstorming on what we could do, we never expected that it would become something as amazing as it did. What we did know is that we couldn’t do much individually, so why not put all of our “can do’s” in a pot and make it something bigger. Something more substantial. What we didn’t realize is that when you start “doing”, people start to realize that maybe they should also do something too.
That “something” was a benefit concert to raise money for a family who lost their daughter in a terrible car accident. As a mom, all I could think about was “how can I take their pain away?” “How can I make this better?”
The fact is that I can’t. None of us can. Unfortunately, there isn’t a band-aid big enough to make it better. I can’t hug them tight enough to take it away. It is an impossible wish that has crossed all of our minds at one point or another over this past week.
Realizing that fact, the focus was directed to what we could do; and that is lifting as much of the financial burden off of their family as humanly possible. And so it began. The message spread like wildfire to get as many people involved as possible and 400+ people came together. They donated time, venue, talent, money (to the tune of $5500), products and services to drive an energy that was chock full of love and support for 2 parents dealing with the greatest and most tragic loss. I didn’t see as many tears as I did smiles and laughter. Hugs and hands being held. It was hands down one of the most remarkable displays of support and love I have ever seen in my 32 years on this earth.
For that, I thank everyone involved. Each one of you has restored my faith in people, and it motivates me to continue my mission to remind people that “doing what you can” will be what saves our society.
What I am finding is that this simple statement is something that we all need to live by. It is a lesson taught to us unknowingly by a little girl who somehow had it figured out. It is a message that is universal.
To me, it means that in order to make a difference in this world, we all need to collectively do what we can to make it a better place.
For Rachel, it was sacrificing her birthday gifts to ensure that people in Africa had clean water. Her $300 goal has turned in to over $600,000. In less than 2 weeks.
I leave you with a quote that has resonated wholly in my heart and my soul:
“A child teaching us adults that maybe it is that simple. You do what you can.” –Pastor Meeks
What can you do?
To Donate to Charity: Water (Rachel’s Wish) Click Here
To Donate to Rachel’s family: Click Here
Mom’s Mean, Huh?!
I love messing with my son. I happen to think that it is probably one of the best things about parenting and I cannot wait until Charli is old enough to get it. Because I am gonna fuuuuuuuuu u u u ck with her like you don’t even want to know.
(shutup)
Why do I like to do it so much? Because it teaches him how to laugh and understand what a joke is vs. what one is not. It gives him tough skin. It is my way of loving him, and he knows that.
For those of you who don’t know him – he is an NBA f.a.n.a.t.i.c. Specifically the Lakers.
(I know … I know … save your “boo’s” for the 10 year old)
So … because I like to fuck with him so much, I have picked his arch enemy team: The Celtics. (insert evil laugh here) I am all over some stats, games and scores … and I am quick to rub it in his face when his team loses and mine wins. (This has been happening enough in the past week to aggravate him, which makes me happy)
The funniest part is that I honestly could give a shit about basketball. * ducks in lieu of Squish * I mean, it is alright … I like it the most out of all when it comes to sports … but when it all comes down to it, I am not gonna cry like some people do (Xavier) when my team loses. I just watch it because it is there.
* shrug *
I was thinking about this today because his team plays tonight and I am praying they lose. Why? Because that will be 2 losses for him 2 wins! for me and if the Lakers don’t make it to the next round, he isn’t gonna want to watch anymore but I am going to make him because I have had to watch this crap for months.
I am evil … aren’t I? I know I am and I am okay with that.
I was also thinking about how I must have gotten this extreme love of pissing my son off from my dad. He used to bury himself under my skin like a tic when I was growing up, pushing my angry buttons and laughing the whole way there. It used to infuriate me to the point where my blood boiled but he didn’t care. He would just laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaugh while I screamed.
Now I laugh it off … but I remember being so angry at him as a kid. I look at Xavier’s face right now when I push his buttons … and I can see the same feelings on his face that I felt when I was his age.
*snicker*
I love my dad though. Even though he used to sing at the top of his lungs with all of the windows down at stoplights when I was 16 like it was his job.
Did your parents ever fuck with you to purposely embarrass you growing up?
If you have kids, do you fuck with them?
What’s Your Story?
I was gonna write about modern day racism today. Not because I have a paper due or something profound to say about it – but because in a crappy way, it happened to me yesterday.
I went back and forth about it and what I might say to project how I feel about what happened … but in thinking about it … I decided that I have said my piece and I am not going to let it breathe anymore.
Because that is how I roll.
… and that is that …
I had a fantastic time on my girls trip – 95% being the awesome and the other 5% being normal blahwtf that typically happens during travel. You know … waiting, flight delays, e t c … and of course when you get 7 bitches with strong personalities in one space for more than 24 hours … let’s just speculate and say that there is always a bit of a scuffle. And by scuffle, I mean moments of bitchy-estrogen-filled-snapdom and time outs by the pool for 5 minutes and then it’s over and back to alcohol, laughs and debauchery.
Eh. It happens. All in all, each of my lady friends impacted my life in some way on this trip. That is muy importante in my opinion.
While I was on the aeroplane, I was pondering. ß I do this, you know … especially in travels. Traveling is usually the only time I have 100% uninterrupted. That and the shower, but even then I have Charli trying to ask me for some juice or Xavier remembering something amazesome that absolutely cannot wait the 5 minutes until I get out. Isn’t it grand being a mom?!
I know, right?
Anyway, I was pondering the people whom I had the pleasure of sharing my Southwest flight with … and what their back-stories were.
Where were they from?
Where were they going?
Why were they going?
Why LAX?
Were they in route to meet the love of their lives?
Were they wondering the exact same thing about me? (lol prolly not, right?! I am the only dingbat who is curious about other people and their back-stories)
Had I thought about it, (and I will remember this for my next trip) I should have brought a notebook with me. What a fantastic way to character develop, right?! I mean shit – one can only create back-stories about the characters they are pretending to be writing novels about for so long before the content becomes repetitive and … boring.
But past that, people fascinate me in general.
I remember as a little girl, I used to look out the window and wonder what someone else was doing right in that moment – were he or she thinking the exact same thing as me? Were they in their footie pj’s … waiting for that final bedtime yodel from their momma like I was?
I still ponder that sometimes. Like, if I had a super power, it would be to have the ability to read thoughts OR to be a fly on the wall. Or both. Depends on my mood.
*shrug*
My rambling point is that we all have back-stories, right? Each of us brings something to the table. Like, if for some crazy reason my plane were to get stranded somewhere and I was forced into survival mode with 249 other passengers, I would be forced into a situation where their back-story and mine jumbled together making the same current one.
We would become each other’s back-story … or at least a part of it.
Some people are oblivious to the fact that everyone is so greatly connected … that it is baffling to me. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow … but you will effect another human being and their story – probably without even realizing it.
Are you tripped out yet?
I try not to be a negative effect on it as much as possible, because what good is that gonna do?!
This weekend, and for the first time ever, mine was totally made up. My ladies and I decided to have some fun and make it a faux bachelorette party for muah! So we all had our own made up relationship with my pretend husband and my fake, too big to be true engagement ring. It was fun to pretend like I was pre-marriage and still new to life for a bit. But it also made me appreciate that my real one is pretty much the best one.
Better than yours, better than yours … and definitely better than yours.
Heh.
Lets play a little bit. You are on a plane, all by yourself. Your story can be whatever you want it to be. I come and sit next to you on the plane … and I introduce myself.
What is your story?
