This blog is not to be confused with Whose Line is it, Anyway? because that nutty show is hilariously entertaining and never disappoints.
This blog is about my crazy life, which is not always hilariously entertaining and sometimes disappoints.
I am an almost 43 year-old wife, mother, Christian, and generally sick (as in NOT physically well health-wise) human being.
Some might argue that I am not only sick physically, but that I also have a sick mind and a sick sense of humor.
I will not contest this.
This is my story.
Names may be changed to protect people, but not always.
Some people don’t care if I use their names; in fact, they will want me to.
Yes, I do like to exaggerate when storytelling: it makes life funnier, so enjoy!
I never thought I would write a blog.
Actually, as a Gen-Xer, I was an elementary school-aged kid who had to type READY and RUN on the keyboard of the computer.
Then I would quickly push PLAY on the tape deck for the computer to take what kids these days would say “FOREVER” to display a green, blinking cursor on the screen.
No red, yellow, blue, pink, or purple.
No images, icons, logos, or scrolling graphics.
Just a green square.
The Internet wasn’t even a thing until well after my first child was born and I had already finished my Bachelor’s degree.
Writing was not EVER a passion or pastime of mine, but I will admit, with pride, that I got VERY good at it because of Ms. Beatrice Jones, my 10th grade English teacher.
God rest her soul.
That woman would butcher a paper like a sadist, and she would smile wryly as she returned our papers to us with blood-red ink dripping from each page.
Every student’s pride and joy we had toiled over for weeks became a pit bull’s play thing, ripped and shredded with her overwhelming pleasure.
Please know, I have no ill-will for pit bulls. More about that later.
To this day, I can still recite the 23 helping verbs she required us to memorize: am, is, are, was, were, be, being, been, have, has, had, do, does, did, shall, will, can, could, should, would, may, might, must.
Yep, those 23 words will be burned on my brain until I die.
I can correct grammar in the best editors’ news articles, magazines, memorandums, and reports.
It really has become a passive, yet sick, passion of mine (perhaps in
Ms. Jones’ honor), though not enough to become a 10th grade English teacher to destroy children’s self-esteem.
Also, teenagers are NOT my cup of tea.
I have two of them.
I speak from experience.
So why am I writing a blog?
God told me to.
He tells me to do lots of things (Most often, it’s “Hold your tongue.”), and I sometimes like to listen the first time to be obedient.
As it relates to this blog, I know writing will somehow help me to heal, to keep my mind off of how sick I feel and how much pain I am in, to think about funny memories, to re-live good times, and to start to live again–from the passenger seat–with Him calling all the shots.
This is going to be tough for me.
I have always been the driver.
My nickname is Pit Bull.
Pit bulls get a bad rap–most of the time.
Pit bulls mind their own business and get along just fine until they are triggered.
What’s their trigger?
For me, the enemy is bullies.
I love justice.
I want good to always triumph over evil.
I want the underdog to have his day.
I want the bad guy to get caught.
If I had a super power, I would want to have the innate ability to catch the bad guy or girl; make him/her feel real, true remorse; and then have him/her repent and turn his/her life over to good.
I would second that super power only to flying, but I think every super hero should be able to fly if he/she wants to.
I was raised in the late 70s and 80s, a time when only the winning team received a trophy or a ribbon.
I was taught about the importance of personal excellence, integrity, honesty, helping others, and caring about people.
I was also taught ‘Life Isn’t Fair’ and ‘No One Owes You Anything.’
Those two mottoes suck, but they are true.
I have taught them to my children: I figure the sooner they learn these mottoes, the less disappointed they will be when life hands them lemons.
Or rotten apples.
Or poopy diapers.
Or a ticket for a ride to a place they don’t want to go, but they find they are already on the moving train.
I did, for a time, believe that I could accomplish whatever I set my mind to just out of sheer will, confidence, and a lot of hard work.
I also, for a time, believed that life was mine for the taking.
What does that really mean, though?
Certainly, there are goals I set for myself and reached–some much more easily than others–but then life started to happen.
Messy, uncontrollable, unforeseeable, sucker-punching, unfair, ugly life.
I am CERTAIN God will have me share much more about those real life experiences in upcoming posts, but let me have you wonder about them for just a bit.