An Introduction to My Being

God created me.  But then I was added to by every person I have ever met, which I know was ultimately part of His plan to make me who I am to become.  I have spent a lot of time reflecting in the last 4 years about who I am.  One night four years ago I relived my every sin, my every mistake, my every regret. When the sun rose the next morning I vowed to leave that part of me behind and focus on the future.  I tried to put myself back together again the best I could just in time for my best friend of half my life to pass away.  

Trauma.  I recently had to speak to a school psychologist regarding my son Lucas, and answer a survey regarding traumatic life events he may have experienced. He's 8 years old and I had to sit and answer questions about his experiences with explosions, yelling, and death.  When I was done answering for him, she had me answer for myself.  Because my trauma...it passes to him in ways I cannot imagine.  Like how three years later he still cries when he sees a cat, because he misses our cat that passed away.  The cat passed away in a particularly brutal way for me to experience, especially considering the death of the cat was a few weeks after my friend had passed away.  I grieved the loss of both of them fiercely.  And with that, I taught my own child how to deal with grief and it is there and I cannot take it back.  As I cry at the drop of a hat anytime I recall a moment with my friend, now he too will cry anytime he is reminded of the cat. Trauma leaves its mark.  But I digress.

Parts of me died in those two moments. But I am constructed by millions of memories and millions of persuasions that have created my personality. Sometimes when people leave my life those pieces die off and are replaced by new pieces. The human body consists of approximately 30-40 trillion cells dying or being born and here are some of mine.

The urge to make hot chocolate and toast for breakfast and dip my toast in the hot chocolate, taught to me by my recently departed Aunt Nancy. My love for vanilla smells because an old love bought me Warm Vanilla Sugar scrub and it smelled like my mom's old Vanilla Musk perfume.  My love for scarves because of a best friend's Christmas gift.  Songs that make me think of laying in bedrooms with twinkly blue lights.  My insecurity wearing hats.  Being wary when someone says my name that they are going to manipulate me. Naming all of my penguins French names because of a penguin gifted to me wearing a tie.  One of my passwords because of my brother and a sneaky program he downloaded onto our computer. Knowing I have never ever met a boy named Jonathan that wasn't genuinely a wonderful, intelligent and caring person.  The need to brush my hair before I leave the house. Hating to wear yoga pants in public.  Knowing all the lyrics to Whats your Fantasy by Ludacris.  The smell of cherry blossom petals blowing into my car window.  The variations of names with Bro inserted in them.  The feeling of a breeze coming in a window and brushing my skin while I'm asleep.  Dancing in a dress in an alley with a boy.  Golden retrievers.  Kate Chopin's The Awakening.  Flipping eggs at B&A and toasting an English Muffin twice.  A cup of hot tea and a game of Mahjohngg at the end of the night.  Long driveways.  Wrinkling my nose.  My ridiculously loud and probably obnoxious laugh.  Laughing until I cry.  Laughing with a friend who collapses into the snow and proceeds to pee her pants.  Aching to hear the word Mommy.  New books.  Writing things out.  Satin sheets.  Dangly earrings that match my outfits. No underwear.  Cinnamon altoids. Driving to Walmart late at night to get new movies and books.  Harry Potter.  Maybe Baby.  A whale asking "Why is nobody helping us?"  An old Batman voice.  Little Fat Bird.  Tabernacle.  Tintinnabulation.  BTAF.  CGGS.  DGPG.  Marie.  Jenny.  Jennenenenenenenenn. The feel of Lucas' hand in mine.  Carving a Harry Potter wand from a stick during football games.  Smelling of beer.  Mud football.  Camping after watching The Blair Witch and caving after watching The Descent.  Insisting I beat Zelda on my own.  Rock Climbing.  White sparkly dresses.  Plaid.  Baby giggles. Data over hearsay.  Jack's Mannequin.  Something Corporate.  The Used.  Driving over the mountain and watching the stars.  Throwing up when someone says they love me. Guitar playing. Phone calls from a California boy. Phantom of the Opera.  A car wash.  Concerts.  Boys with curly hair. Playing with my hair.  Writing messages on my back.  Crocheting.  Kit Kats.  Jack's Drive In.  Auntie Annes. Subway.  B&A. Secret beach trips.  Fire escape stairs.  Scattegories.  Quasimodo.  Eating tacos and then licking my eye.  Streaking down the street with only a cowboy hat.  Edward Forty Hands and the bathroom conundrum.  Smoking pot and reading poetry about drumming.  Short hair and mini skirts.  TPing my fucking car.  Wing Nights at JP's.  The wendigo at Reedsville.  Battle Camp.  Dark Souls.  Rainbow specials. Halloween Collage. Bananas. Cinnamon. A lamp and a 3 day fire.  Sisters. Clones. Favs. ClitLits. Homecoming and mixers and Unicorns.  Cheese curls.  Mountain Dew. High heels.  Jeans that never fit.  A Walk to Remember.  Remember Me. Mothman Prophecies.  Veggie Tales.  Ocean City New Jersey.  Snow Camp.  Impact.  Niagara Falls.  Peacoats.  Folding notes. Toilet comics.  Penguin comics.  Garfield and Odie.  Marching Band.  Crooked bangs.  Pointed toes and grand jetes.  Southern Comfort, Montezuma Tequila, BacardiO, Bankers Club, Mad Dog, Boones Farm, Lions Head, Miller High Life.  Dopplegangers.  Rubbing your ear when your throat tickles.  Acupressure.  Turkey Sandwich Fritos and a Root Beer.  Stop 35 Raspberry Iced Tea, Lemon Meringue Pie and singing Strawberry Wine loudly.  Playing sardines, and Spoons, and Dutch Rummy.  Awful double french braids. Turquoise.  Canasta.  Degrassi.  Climbing trees.  An awful attic with creepy clowns.  Beds arranged so they arent sucked into the closet.  Shoes by the bed.  Doors closed.  Fear of gas stations. Big Bowl Mugs.  Never eat a salad or drink root beer before you drink too much.  Jeopardy.  TOOOOOSdays.  Bobby pins.  Sequins. Feathers.  Pinch a Penny.  Make as many mistakes as you can but never the same one twice.  If you've lost someone, be who that person was to you, for someone else.  Sweet November.  Opals. To Write Love on Her Arms.  Take Back the Night.  SemiColon.  Dementia.  Trypophobia.  Adjustment Disorder.  Rebooting.  Sunburn.  Terry Brooks.  Everworld. Kicking the back of my desk. 6-24-32. Shakespeare.  Dr. Bartoli.  Professor Zumkhawala Cook.  Early American Literature and all the turkey fucking.  And then I found five dollars, the house burned down they all died in the end, and then I stabbed her.  Candyland.  Freestyling.  Rockathon.  Bagels and Cream Cheese.  Boys stealing our cheese itz and fire extinguishers.  Downtown Harrisburg.  PSU.  Celica. The Tennessee Titans. HACC.  Eternal Sunshine of the spotless mind.  Wolf Creek.  I Love Lucy.  Mr. Bean.  Cutting my fathers toe nails. Cutting boys hair.  A mess.  Eggs in a basket.  Poached Eggs in a bowl with butter and ripped up toast.  Scottish pasties.  Broiled Shrimp with a baked potato.  Tacos. Crab legs. Margaritas.  Weasels and Ferrets.  NOFX and Antiflag.  Unkissable. Lehmans Road. Lions Club Park. Walking on Wheat. Little Bunny Foo Foo. Academia Museum and looking for arrowheads.  Sewing Pillows.  Playing pool.  Cobalt Blue. Gears of War.  Left For Dead.  Mario Party. Short nails and broken toes.  Birthmark.  Scars.  Sweatshirts.  "Nice G string babe" Rose Gold.  One pant leg rolled up. Spiky hair.  Fast cars.  Highlighter bottles.  Black sweaters.  White button up shirts.  Swedish Fish.  Guitar players.  4 hour drives.  Driveway kisses.  Blue hair.  Slow dances.  Messy rooms.  Seashells. Conan Obrien.  Radio shows.  Lord of The Rings.  Weeping Willows.  Sudoku Puzzles.  Bad dreams.  Seavers.  Monkey Vines.  Snow. Grace.  So much Grace.

It's all there folks. And millions more that I couldn't think of in the hour I sat down to write this. 

The point is that I am made up of all of these memories of you, and part of who I am has always been remembering the things that no one else remembers, or paying attention to the details everyone overlooks, and speaking the truths in a way that make others understand.  And when you look at the words alone, it seems like complete nonsense, but to me it is the DNA of my life, and to my friends and family when they read it they may pick out the words that are associated with them and know the memories I’m talking about. At the end of the day the idea behind this blog was to continue that.  To take words and ideas from you all, things that might even be part of you because of memories or experiences, and turn that into stories- some fiction, some nonfiction.  I've said this all my life, I was put on this planet to be two things...a mother and a writer.  So here I am.  Writing these stories based on mad lib prompts I've put on my facebook. And as the name of my blog suggests, these will not be regular, consistent blog posts, these will be when I have time.  I have started weaving the fabric of a few prompts already, some are stories, some are poems, some I'm perfecting before I post and some I will probably rage post and sob to myself about how horrible they are.  I don't know if you guys will enjoy them or not, maybe they will inspire you all, and if they do I hope you share your stories or ideas with me.  And I hope that at least some of you will take the time to read, and will enjoy seeing little parts of myself put down on figurative paper.