**Yet another guest post. Thanks, Jenn, for letting me invade your space. And thank you, Reader, for …. reading?? Enjoy. ~Muse**
With a little distance on our childhood, we can see moments that are perfect illustrations of the person we’ve become (or are becoming). Our little personalities in development are perfect miniature representations of bigger things to come (and be appreciated, of course). Like how when I was 5(ish), waiting in the check-out line at the grocery story with a parent or two, and when someone asked, “what’s that smell?” With perfect comedic timing I responded, “Its my butt.”
You may already be laughing, but let me tell you a minor, but important nuance of this story: I kind of had a man voice as a child. My dad says I’m the only kid he knows whose voice actually got higher with time. The baritone of my voice sounded even deeper in comparison to my sister’s high-pitched, almost reaching sonar level, voice. It was the kind that made you cringe, cover your ears, and want to cry because the sound was so intense (especially when she was whining about something, which was pretty much all the time). I imagine it’s how dogs feel when they hear that special whistle of theirs. My voice, however, caused more of a cocked-head confused look, like, “what the what? Was that the little blond-haired, angelic girl speaking or an old, crusty cowboy?” It was me, people! And my delivery was very dry. I mean, how can your delivery be anything but dry when you sound like a 50-year old man who is bored out of his mind?
Thankfully I no longer have man-voice…unless you catch me late at night or after a bender of talking (believe it or not, that doesn’t happen often). But I’ve been told it’s sexy, so I’m going to keep that image in my head rather than the old man. You should too, if you know what’s good for you. I do, however, still have amazing comedic timing. And I have no problem tooting my own horn because, like most of my genius moments, it’s purely accidental.
Another aspect of my personality that was demonstrated in my childhood is my need to do things on my own, in my own time. I am not to be bossed or bother by anyone if I’m not ready. My parents have been fighting hard against this since I was born. They thought I was deaf when I was a baby because I wouldn’t respond to things (and by “things,” I mean mostly them). My mom would sneak up on me and clap loudly in my ears to see if I’d flinch. Nothing. I’d just lay there, maybe eventually make eye contact like, “oh hey. Didn’t see you there. Need something ‘cause I’m busy chillin’ in my crib.” Apparently I also didn’t speak until I was 2. This compounded their fear that something was wrong with me. First deaf, now mute – I’m sure it freaked their shit out. But the reality was, I was doing things on my time. That’s how I rolled as a baby and that’s how I roll now, bitches. (Sometimes its more fun to end a sentence with “bitches.” You should try it sometime.)
So about year ago – a.k.a., when my life got flipped-turned upside down (and if you’re not singing the theme song to the Fresh Prince of Bel Air, shame on you!) – I decided to dump my blog. The blog formerly known as “the Dot.”
What’s that? You never heard of it? Meh. You weren’t missing much.
Wow, a year off from writing and I still can’t stay focused! As I was saying.. I dumped my blog. I did it in part because I had a sneaking suspicion the next several months (//cough, a year) were going to be crazy, and in part because I felt like I was losing my voice. No, not in that sounding-like-a-man-its-my-butt kind of way. I mean I found that I was censoring myself a lot. Being an avid people-pleaser, I worried about writing things that wouldn’t be well received. What I had to say wouldn’t be funny enough, it would be too truthful, not truthful enough, etc. etc. etc. I decided to step back in silence, to take time to really think about why I’m writing, what I really want to say.
My year has been crazy with a capital ‘holy shit’ – it’s been an adventure, painful, healing, beautiful – it’s been everything under the sun and I’ve learned a lot about myself and how this insane world works. I’m glad I took the time to turn in and re-discover why I started writing in the first place. I write because I have a story to share. It’s one that is in continual progress. Sometimes its funny, sometimes its sad, sometimes its flat out embarrassing, sometimes it has spelling errors or just omits words completely because my mind is too busy to be bothered with grammatical details like complete sentences or stopping one from being a run-on. Clearly, demonstrated above.
In addition to helping out my insanely talented, currently cruising the Caribbean friend, Jenn, by guest posting, I am also trying to see how many words and commas I can cram into one sentence. Kidding. I am writing to share that I’ve decided to consume some cyberspace by blogging again. (This is where you jump up and down, cheer like a wild person, and flash me your goods. Unless you’re related to me, in which case I’ll settle with simply cheering.)
I have a space all reserved and ready to go. And while I’d love to link it all up here to make things quick and easy, I don’t have a damn thing written on the new site. So y’all are going to have to wait. Maybe if I’m lucky, TCD will give me a shout-out when I’m fully up and running.
If you are still reading this, thank you. I hope to see you again soon. And thank you to all the people who have encouraged me to keep writing and doing my thang. Yes, I meant to write “thang” … ‘cause that’s how I roll, bitches.
