It�s all shits and giggles
Ok, I�m writing this wondering if any one would possibly be interested in a life like mine. I mean think about it. Every one has a story to tell, so why don�t they tell it? Self conscientious? Self esteem? Self righteousness? Self loathing? Probably a little bit of everything. I don�t claim to be a great author by any means. I only claim to be a very fallible and normal person who felt a need to put some things down for no damn reason at all. I will not lie and I will not carry on. I will only tell my story as I remember it. I wish that I could have collaboration from everyone I have ever known, but I don�t think anyone is ever lucky enough to hold onto people that long. Not such a depressing thought, it just means we outgrow people, places, events and the such. Which is a good thing, right?
I�m sitting at home as I write this memoir. I live in a BAD neighborhood. I sit here keeping tight to the dreams of doing things like owning a home and have a backyard safe enough for my kids to play in. It is 1:32am and my 5 crazy and beautiful children are in bed and have been for hours. I live for 9:00pm. This is a whim, plain and simple. I may never finish this story. I may be as Walt Whitman and write to the end of time and my final work will only be complete after my untimely death. After all, it is all untimely isn�t it? Have you ever heard any one say, �Well, it�s about time I leave you all. Have a great life, I�m done with mine. I wouldn�t want to be late!�?
I have had a full day and I will go to bed without finishing the dishes and knowing the laundry needs done desperately. What can I say? It is the truth and I should proclaim my honesty now, this moment. I have been an awful liar in the past, haven�t we all? I have learned my lesson though, and thankfully not the really hard way. I will also be honest in saying I do not think that I know it all. I only know what I know. I give advice, uninvited and blatantly. Awful, huh? I will say however I do know quite a bit about some things. I did not go to college and I didn�t even graduate from high school. That does not make me unintelligent or ignorant. It simply means I learned a lot from books and schools, and a lot from REAL LIFE. The simple words, REAL LIFE. Sounds like as good a place to start as any.
1.Real life�.
Well, what is it? Is it defined by society? Is it defined by Webster? I say it is definitely defined by the person living it. Why should any one else define it? Here is the beginning of what began my real life.
The Players
My parents have been divorced for over 20 years. Thank God! I can never picture them married. It would be a complete and utter disaster ! They are each wonderful in their own unique way. I love them each in my own unique way. They are such different people it just seems impossible that a marriage between them was ever a reality. I do know they were married. I have pictures! I have proof! I don�t know how they met. I don�t know how they fell in love. I don�t know about all the love they shared for those years. I�m not really all that curious about it to be honest. By the time I was old enough to care, they had already been divorced forever. This chapter is dedicated to them in their infinite wisdom and humor. Together a disaster, apart a good balance in personality and opinions.
MOM�.
Hail to the Mother. Oh yes, you heard me! I spent much of my life fighting the fact that I am very much like my mother. Finally I just sucked it up. After all, she does have wonderful attributes. I have told her repeatedly that on her gravestone there will be the phrase I have learned describes her the best. Any one who has ever met Betty will agree. It shall read, in giant letters, �NO ONE EVER WONDERED WHAT SHE WAS THINKING�. Sounds pretty bad, right? Not really. Honesty, even in a brutal form can be constructive. It all depends on how you use it. Now, for you Mom (which upside down is Wow), these are some of the things I honestly remember and have learned from you.
