Where Am I Going With This?

Ever wake up Christmas day to stacks of gifts taller than you are? The initial reaction was quite typical; there's a wow factor, excitement and wonder in the air. That morning the metallic red and green holiday depictions on the dollar store wrapping paper were illuminated by a fake, four foot prelit tree set upon an empty Uhaul box draped with a white sheet. All the tags boasting these pretty packages were from Santa were in my grandmother's unmistakable handwriting. But these minor details were easily dismissed with the promise of shiny new material items we had been taught to treasure. (Because what else could possibly matter more in life?)

I tried to strategize but my younger sister went into full on tasmanian devil, take no prisoners mode so I panicked and grabbed whatever was within arms reach. The anticipation was too much. My adrenaline was kicking, or maybe that was the sugar rush from all the cookies and candy canes I devoured before waking the others. Either way, what the fuck is in this box!?

Oh.

Whoa, wait.

You guys, am I on Candid Camera? Everyone's going to start cracking up and point to the film crew right about... now. How about now? Please come out.

"Don't you just love it?" my grandmother squeals, delighted with her cutesy craft project AKA my worst nightmare.

It sets the tone for the morning. I'm not even the least bit curious what all this other shit is. I'm going to hate everything but have no choice but to suffer through, force a half smile, and thank the idiots I call family for ruining my life.

Where am I going with this? It's your welcome mat. This pretty much sums up what you can expect from me. Nothing more, nothing less. Sounds like I might be sharing something profound but, surprise! You've been duped. You'll need to prepare for a bit of anticlimactic action, that's just how I roll. Besides, that's also real life. In case you didn't notice it isn't always flashy and exciting, not every waking moment is glitter and puppy dogs and rainbows or fuzzy handcuffs if you're into that sort of thing.

I'm a mother, a daughter and sister, an employee, and various other things to many different people, but none of these labels define who I really am. In fact, I'm not entirely sure what I'm all about yet. This blog is an attempt to chronicle my awakening, my journey of self discovery. All those things you're not supposed to talk about - sex, politics, religion - I'll be throwing my thoughts and experiences out there, leaving myself extremely vulnerable amidst the most radical form of self expression I've ever committed to. A public diary, if you will. (I have been the biggest goodie-two-shoes you'd ever meet so this is bat shit crazy for me. Stop judging already, at least wait till I get to the good stuff!) (And yes, I have sidebar conversations and think I'm hilarious - that's really all that matters.)

By the way, that Christmas story is true and I hope you're dying to know what was in the box because I can't wait to tell you! It was a gray Champion sweatshirt adorned with an iron on decal of a teddy bear wearing a Native American headdress, lovingly hand decorated in great detail with puffy paint. I was in Junior High, not a toddler. There is photo evidence that even made its way into our yearbook. If I can locate it, I will share.

Stay tuned, this should get interesting.