Who Am I?

Who Am I?

I am the youngest.

I am the surprise pregnancy.

The not quite expected baby.

Dad said I popped out with a pill in my hand. It took me a few years to understand what he had meant. Then when I did “get it.” I hated it. To me it meant I was unwanted.

My older brother had been planned. He was wanted. He was wished for, waited for, prayed for and dreamed of. Didn’t hurt that he was the perfect child either. Only thing weird about him was his desire to have purple shoes.

I was a surprise. I was cause for worry. Worry about money, space and time.

FUCK THAT!! You know who I am?! I am the kid who beat the odds. Despite having never been wanted or asked for. The super sperm wiggled its way into an egg that planted itself in my Mom’s womb despite hormones and pills. They mixed it up and made ME!

I came into this world on a scream and made a splash. I might not have been the perfect child but I sure was unforgettable.

I spent a lot of my life being shy and trying to disappear.

FUCK THAT!! I am so far from being anyone’s image of the perfect person and I don’t care.

I have insecurities and worries and I struggle to love my body. But I love who I am and how I am. I love with everything I have. I am loyal and honest. I can be quiet and moody, loud and crazy, reflective and shy. I love to talk but learn more by listening. My mind is open but that doesn’t mean I agree with everything I hear or see.

I am me.
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#theblogginglounge

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Expectations GBE2

 

Expectations… I expected this blog to be easy. I expected to be a rockstar. I expected to live in a big house with four kids and a fabulous husband that doted on me. I expected to live the life of my dreams. I expected….. Well I guess expecting something is kind of like assuming something. You know what they say about that don’t cha? Nooooo! Not that one. I would never say that about you! hehehe!! They say to not count your chickens before they hatch. In other words, even though you have seven eggs it’s not a sure thing that you will end up with seven chickens from those eggs. You see, you might get hungry along the way and next thing you know… over easy with a dash of tobasco. Yum.

 

Okay now I’m going to get deep. Not too deep. Afterall I have just met a few of you and don’t want you to expect that my blogs are always deep. *wink*

 

Anyway. Having expectations is great. But if you don’t back up those expectations with actions, it’s kind of like… ummm… dreaming of winning the lottery but never buying a ticket. You may never win the lottery but by damned you have a better chance than the guy who didn’t buy a ticket!

 

In my life I have found only one expectation that seems to always come to pass. The expectation of change. Even when stuck in a rut something will change. We can either fight it or embrace it. I expect to always embrace change but we all know what they say about that, don’t we.

 

^v^ chickee

 

05/25/11

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I used to blog.

I used to blog.  Ummmmm…  I mean I used to blog regularly. It was over in that place I called My Space.  I enjoyed it a lot and was an active member in a blog group.  They would encourage me to stretch my limits and explore things that were foreign to me.  The group gave you a trigger word or phrase and you took it the way you wanted to.  Seeing the many different directions people went when given the same trigger was incredible.

Once we were given the word “home.”  Many talked about where they grew up or their home right now.  There were some gorgeous poems and some picture blogs that took my breath away. But for me, from out of no where this beautiful little piece of fantasy fiction about a mermaid flew from my fingertips.  It was the first bit of my fiction I had ever allowed anyone to read.  The response I got had my head swelling and my face blushing, I was encouraged to write more and more.  I felt that my little hobby of dreaming had been validated.  I even enjoyed the constructive criticism I received at times.  It helped me to grow as a writer and a person.

I would also spend time reading other’s blogs.  There were so many wonderful writers out there.  People whose views could either be flat-out identical to mine of were so against my grain I would sometimes shudder.

The ones I enjoyed reading were the bloggers who thought before they wrote.  Seriously thought.  They also didn’t beg for comments or kudos.  They also didn’t tell me that if I read theirs they would read mine.  They interacted with the reader, they didn’t pull drama into their blogs or harsh on people whose comments they didn’t like.  They were open and accepting of all opinions (as long as they were given with respect).  If a blogger didn’t respond to comments at all or if they asked for kudos or were disrespectful to their readers I usually stopped reading them.

Still I got to the point where there were so many awesome blogs I wanted to read, I had no time to write, let alone clean my house.  I got burned out.  I stopped writing and in time stopped reading.  I missed it.

Then yesterday on my Facebook page I got a friend request.  I had no clue who the person was but I did see that they had 14 friends in common with me.  So I gave the page a click before deciding to accept or not.

The person was a blogger.  The kind of blogger that immediately turned me off.  I honestly don’t care how good the blog might be, I won’t read just because of the attitude of this person.  “Once the biggest blogger on…” “I will offend you…” “…I don’t give a sh*t what you have to say..”  Blah blah blah…

Honestly why would I even attempt to read someone like that?

I was instantly reminded of all the reasons blogging became a chore.  Drama, kudo chasers, ignorance, out right rudeness and contrived controversy to generate views.

Sooooo… guess what I did with the friend request?

I may only have a handful of people who read what I write and at the moment I am only reading a handful of others but each and every one of those people mean something to me and I respect their views and opinions.

Now like this or I will never read your blog again!!  bwahahahahaaa!!!  As if!

What do you look for in a blog?

Do you read just friends?

Or do you search topics?

Have you found a blogger that you just had to share?

Have you ever hit “random entry” and found a gem?

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Muslims and Terrorists

There is a section of my local paper called “30 Seconds”, people call in or e-mail and basically spout off about anything they choose for a few seconds and they get published.  Sometimes the editor will publish a quick reply.  Most times not.  Any given subject will generate days and sometimes weeks of petty bickering between the callers.  Subjects range from, my neighbor’s lawn is too high or thanks to the kid who held the door open for me,  local politics, national news, movie stars, fashion and my personal fave, fat people.  Sometimes religion is even touched upon.

I’ve been a casual scanner of the 30 seconds page of the paper since it began.  Usually something will catch my eye and I will laugh at the idiocy of the caller.  To me this page is entertainment.  Kind of like our very own redneck tabloid.  Occasionally something will actually interest me as more than a giggle.  And even fewer times the caller will actually seem to have a brain and be able to use it. 

Wednesday was one of those days. 

It seems the entire nation is getting all bent out of shape over the thought of a Mosque being built at “Ground Zero.”  This has been irritating the hell out of me since I heard all the hub bub.  My opinion is this, why not build a Mosque there?  Did no one of the Islam faith die that day?  I haven’t spoken my views before because I honestly didn’t want to get into an argument about it. 

So anyway…  This is what was printed in the local paper.  It was sent in by an anonymous emailer. 

“…Please get educated on different religions, other cultures and the difference between Muslims and terrorists.  Then, when you give your opinion, at least you’ll know what you’re talking about.  By the way, Islam is a religion, a Mosque is a place of worship, Muslims are followers of Islam (not an ethnic group) and terrorists are radicals that use violence for political pursuit (some, not all, are Muslim)…” 

Yes. Exactly.  Speak your opinion but by all means please know what you are talking about first. 

Every religion has radicals or zealots.  Christians have those who oppose abortion by bombing abortion clinics.  They shout about killing babies, yet they do not see the harm and hate they produce by the way they try to get their point across. 

We can’t end hate by hating.

So I say, by all means build the Mosque at ground zero.  I would love to some day visit and join a worship service.

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Hey! 16 year old Chickee…

This is my side of  a conversation between me now and myself at sixteen….

Hey Chickee!  Come here.  You don’t know me, yet.  But you will.  And I truly hope you love me because I love you.  So if you would just indulge an old lady for a few minutes, I’d like to tell you a few things.  Impart some wisdom per se.  Oh come on.  I know you and you want to listen.  Come here. sit down and I’ll buy you a YooHoo.  Ha!  See I told you I knew ya.  You never could pass up a YooHoo. 

(Wow a glass 9 ounce bottle of YooHoo.  Isn’t that a blast from the past.)

(Oh and just so you ‘the reader’ knows, 16 yr old Chickee can’t hear anything in parenthesis)

Soooooo…  Comfy?  K.  This may sound weird but hear me out, k?  Here goes.  Be bold.  Kiss him.  Just lean in and kiss him.  Yes him. Kiss him.  (Because in about 10 years she won’t be faced with the ‘could have been’ thoughts upon learning that he DID indeed like her “that way”)

And please stop hiding yourself.  Remember when you were really little and people would tell you that you were cute and Mom and Dad would get angry because you’d pipe up and say “I know”, well they were wrong to be angry about that.  Wrong, wrong, wrong.  You should know that you are beautiful and not be afraid of owning it.  Now I don’t mean be a snotty stuck up little shit, I mean be confident and show your sass.  I know it’s in there.  Don’t be afraid to let it out.  Oh and by the way lots of men actually LOVE curves. (I know now that beauty is 90% confidence and sass, you show it and you will FEEL it and in turn others will SEE it in you.)

Keep riding your bike.  Yeah I know all your friends have cars and will give you a ride anywhere.  So what.  Right now you can ride your bike all the way to Bloom and still have the energy to make mischief before riding back home again.  Besides the feel of the wind and sun, the sounds of the people, cars and birds… You don’t wanna give that up.  Do ya?  (I wish I had kept riding my bike everywhere.  I think of my health/weight now and if I had kept riding… maybe the thought of hopping on that bike after working all day wouldn’t be such a huge terror now.)

Oh take more pictures of Grammy.  Listen closer to her stories.  Let her know how much you love her.  Get out your tape recorder and record her laughter and voice.  And gosh darn it write down that sugar pie recipe!  (I miss her so much, I want her to tell me to shake my ass one more time.  I want to wrap my arms around her and breathe in her scent.  I want her back.)

This one might piss you off but oh well.  Get a job.  Now.  And don’t blow that paycheck.  Save it and help your family with the bills.  Yeah it sucks but you will spend your entire adult life paying bills while trying to save money.  Might as well learn how to do it now.  So get a job and don’t be too proud to say “Would you like fries with that?” because any job is a good job.  Well except for being a hired hitman, and I know you couldn’t do that one, no matter how much it paid.  heheheee.  Thank Goodness for that.  (Oh how I wish I had learned the value of the dollar long ago.  It’s not fun to try and dig yourself out of debt.  Best to avoid getting there in the first place.)

Oh speaking of hitmen…  Stand up for yourself.  Don’t allow people to walk all over you.  Yeah I know you are shy and you don’t like confrontation, so you let people do and say things to you that are hurtful and down right mean.  Don’t let them try to feel bigger about themselves at your expense.  Turning the other cheek isn’t always the best answer, ya know.  Don’t let anyone smother your spirit.   (Because once it’s smothered, resurrection is a hard and painful process. ‘Nuff said.)

Hmmmmm….  sex.  Oh I see that got your attention.  Yep I said sex.  Hang on.  Hang on.  I know you are smart about that and are not ready yet.  But one day you will be ready.  On that day, don’t worry about your belly or how you butt looks or if you are doing it right.  Just enjoy it.  Relax and have fun.  Make some noise dammit!!  (Oh hi readers, this next part might tick you off but I don’t care.  This is MY advice to a younger ME.)  And forget about birth control.  You were born to love children and if you get preggers you will not regret it.  (I waited too long to try to get pregnant and am childless.  That is the only regret of my life that I cannot move beyond.)

And hey….  Umm….  Nah forget about it I think we’ll leave that one to chance.  It’s more fun that way.

By the way, They will sell YooHoo in half-gallon cartons in the future.  Buy one once in a while but remember you don’t have to drink the entire thing in one day.  Savor the flavor.  hahaa.  I love you girly!  Now gimme a hug. ♥

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Wolfshades posted a blog about what he would say to his 16 year old self and why.  He asked that his readers do the same.  So there you have it.  Chickee to Chickee.  I hope she listens. 

And if I could figure out how to link to Wolfie’s blog I would.  grrr….

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My First Love

Do you remember your first love?  The one to which all other loves would and will be measured?  I do.

He was tall and strong, with thick dark curly hair and a smile that could light up the heavens.  When it was directed at me I felt as if I was the most beautiful and precious person in the world.   My world revolved around him.  He was the center of my universe.  Gaining his approval was the sole purpose in most everything I did.  Seeing his eyes twinkle with laughter and pride made my heart swell.  Seeing those same eyes spark with disapproval could crush me completely.

I told my Mom I was going to marry him someday because I loved him.  She just smiled and gave me a hug. 

I remember watching him give his attention to another and feeling as if I could scream and cry.  But he always came back to me.  Always.

Even when I didn’t want his love.  When I was shoving him away and trying to assert my independence.  Even when his love felt as if it were smothering me and stifling the woman I was becoming.   He never turned his back on me and tried to keep me from making mistakes along the way.  He loved me no matter what.  And you know what, even though I wouldn’t admit it then, that tenacity made me feel even more loved and precious.

Maybe someday there will be another who can hold me and love me with as much strength as he did.  Someone who will see my flaws and love me anyway.  Someone who will always come back to me no matter what a snot I have been. 

Someone who will make me feel as if I am the most beautiful and precious woman alive.  Someone who will love me with a strength equal to that of my Dad.

Happy Father’s Day Daddy. 
I love you and miss you with all my heart.

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