I smoke. A week ago, I came to the realization that I am up to a pack a day. (I can't tell my Mommy I smoke that much. It would kill her, and then I'd be an orphan.) A smoking-related cancer killed my daddy, and yet I puff away...I seriously need to cut this sh*t out--I'm having one as I type. (A cigarette, not a sh*t.)
I'm on my lunchbreak at work. I sooooo totally freakin' hate my job. I love to blog, though. As a matter of fact, I'm taking an executivo to write and post this, but I wasn't raised to be contrary, so I guess I should wrap it up. I will give more detail on my battle with the nicotine nipple and the hatred of my job soon. Bye.
(Oh, and by the way, I have 2 jobs. I'm not talking about the one listed in my profile.)
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Happy Mother's Day!!!
Welp, another Mother's Day is upon us, and ONCE AGAIN I greeted it not with a daughter (named after my favorite supermodel) or a son (named after my favorite writer). Here I am, carting around the same basket of unfertilized eggs and staving off menopause through mental telepathy.
As dismayed as I am because I have yet to experience the joys of motherhood, I am blessed because my fantastic mommy is still in the land of the living, so today I celebrate HER. I know in my last post I expressed anger towards my parents for my status as an out-of-wedlock child. Well I'm over it, for now. I will not pretend that growing up fatherless doesn't present challenges in both child and adulthood. However I want to focus on one very important thing: I have a wonderful mother.
She had me rather "late" in life, at age 33. As soon as she recovered from having me (to let her tell it, she nearly died trying to get me here), she started working at a textile mill and would continue there until the mill shut down, when she was in her mid 60's. She did what she could for me. I didn't get everything I wanted, i.e., dance lessons, a Victorian dollhouse, braces, summer camp...but I always had what I needed. She was a great classroom mom, making cupcakes for my class, making sure I presented my teachers with a Christmas present every year, and during my elementary school years when I was being bullied to the point that I got off the bus crying several days a week, my mom was at the school "handling" THAT business. She's always supported my goals and dreams, even the modeling dream, which is still in my heart.
Mommy is a very sweet, kindhearted, understanding person, and she really deserves better than what life and what certain people in her life have thrown at her. She has told me of aspirations that she had when she was younger, but I don't think the magnitude of her disappointments really hit home for me until I was moving into my dorm when I was in college. As I unpacked, she stood looking out the window of my dormroom with her hands locked behind her back, and she said wistfully, "I wish I could have gone to college." At the time it struck me, for a moment, but I was anxious to get out on campus and check out the men. However, that moment has always stayed with me. To me, that sad far away look on her face that I have seen several more times over the years--and sometimes see now--is a heartbreaking summary of any mistreatment and hurt she's endured, as well as all of the things she gave up for me.
Today, I am 40. She is 73. My life isn't what I want it to be, but I haven't given up hope. Mommy raised me well. All out-of-wedlock chirren don't turn to a life of crime, FYI. I have my degree, and I haven't given up on the dreams that I had. I just pray that God will let me keep my Mommy long enough for her to see me successful and happy, and able to give her at least some of the things she's always wanted--including a couple of grandbabies.
Mommy and me ca. 1974
"A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts & counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, & cause peace to return to our hearts.” -Washington Irving
As dismayed as I am because I have yet to experience the joys of motherhood, I am blessed because my fantastic mommy is still in the land of the living, so today I celebrate HER. I know in my last post I expressed anger towards my parents for my status as an out-of-wedlock child. Well I'm over it, for now. I will not pretend that growing up fatherless doesn't present challenges in both child and adulthood. However I want to focus on one very important thing: I have a wonderful mother.
She had me rather "late" in life, at age 33. As soon as she recovered from having me (to let her tell it, she nearly died trying to get me here), she started working at a textile mill and would continue there until the mill shut down, when she was in her mid 60's. She did what she could for me. I didn't get everything I wanted, i.e., dance lessons, a Victorian dollhouse, braces, summer camp...but I always had what I needed. She was a great classroom mom, making cupcakes for my class, making sure I presented my teachers with a Christmas present every year, and during my elementary school years when I was being bullied to the point that I got off the bus crying several days a week, my mom was at the school "handling" THAT business. She's always supported my goals and dreams, even the modeling dream, which is still in my heart.
Mommy is a very sweet, kindhearted, understanding person, and she really deserves better than what life and what certain people in her life have thrown at her. She has told me of aspirations that she had when she was younger, but I don't think the magnitude of her disappointments really hit home for me until I was moving into my dorm when I was in college. As I unpacked, she stood looking out the window of my dormroom with her hands locked behind her back, and she said wistfully, "I wish I could have gone to college." At the time it struck me, for a moment, but I was anxious to get out on campus and check out the men. However, that moment has always stayed with me. To me, that sad far away look on her face that I have seen several more times over the years--and sometimes see now--is a heartbreaking summary of any mistreatment and hurt she's endured, as well as all of the things she gave up for me.
Today, I am 40. She is 73. My life isn't what I want it to be, but I haven't given up hope. Mommy raised me well. All out-of-wedlock chirren don't turn to a life of crime, FYI. I have my degree, and I haven't given up on the dreams that I had. I just pray that God will let me keep my Mommy long enough for her to see me successful and happy, and able to give her at least some of the things she's always wanted--including a couple of grandbabies.
Mommy and me ca. 1974
"A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts & counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, & cause peace to return to our hearts.” -Washington Irving
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Shellybird's First Time...
NOOOOO...Not THAT first time. I'm referring to the first time in my life I ever felt anger towards my parents for not getting married, which would have made an honest baby out of me, instead of the resulting fatherless daughter who's grown into a middle aged woman with SERIOUS daddy issues. The anger surfaced on April 26, 2013. If you've been following this blog, then you know I have a sorta-kinda-almost boyfriend. (If you haven't been following, here's the link so you can catch up: http://shellybirdsnest.blogspot.com/2013/04/aw-lawd-jesus-why-aint-i-got-no-man.html I'm not typing all of that again.) Anyways, "Daniel", my almost boyfriend, and I have made plans to meet in person in the midway point of the 200+ miles that separate us. We've been "talking"--do people still say that?--for over a month. Mind you, I am a hoarder of chats, voice mails, and text messages. (Let's see A&E make a show about THAT.) I can give you a day-by-day itemized account of when things were euphoric and new between us to now, when it seems like it's going South...and I do mean cotton pickin' South.The daily texts that would start during his morning commute into the city have become sporadic mid morning, lunchtime, or late afternoon texts. On the date in question, if I didn't finally break down and text him at 5:30, we probably wouldn't have communicated at all. Here's the convo:
Me: I missed talking to you today.
Daniel: Me too let's talk tomorrow
What in THE hell?!?!?!?!?!!!!!! I felt so...blown off.
Needless to say, I cried.My face stung like he'd slapped me and called me a bitch. I admit that I'm horrified of losing this thing we have, that has given me my raison d'etre over the past 6 weeks. He made me feel special, and I've never had that before. I've mentioned that he approached me FIRST via my Facebook in box. The conversations that we had, whether it was chat or text, were rapid fire with a lot of "Hey, baby" (or beautiful, or sexy). There were random texts in the middle of the day telling me he missed me. As I type this, I haven't heard from him ALL DAY. My good old reasonable mommy keeps telling me that I "never know what may be going on in his life." Of course, she's right. He's divorced and co-parenting a 7-year-old, he's also a busy professional. Last week was hell week for him on his job. Be that as it MAY, Shellybird has been officially SPOILED by the attention I've received from him over the past several weeks. I did not tell him to shower me with sweet talk. I did not tell him to miss me or say he did. That was all on him. I am a woman who was never anyone's princess, never a "Daddy's girl." Now, all of a sudden, my hard won princess rug has been snatched from under my feet?!
Welp, no tears today. I am gradually forming the (good) habit of not picking up my cell every 10 minutes to see if he sent me a text that I may have missed. Who knows? Maybe tomorrow things will be back to "normal," whatever that is. Wait, who am I kidding? I know what normal is for me: SHELLYBIRD SPOILAGE, and I want some NOW.*
*I know I'm being unreasonable...I KNOW. That's why I'm ranting in my blog instead of calling Daniel and giving him the business.
Me: I missed talking to you today.
Daniel: Me too let's talk tomorrow
What in THE hell?!?!?!?!?!!!!!! I felt so...blown off.
Needless to say, I cried.My face stung like he'd slapped me and called me a bitch. I admit that I'm horrified of losing this thing we have, that has given me my raison d'etre over the past 6 weeks. He made me feel special, and I've never had that before. I've mentioned that he approached me FIRST via my Facebook in box. The conversations that we had, whether it was chat or text, were rapid fire with a lot of "Hey, baby" (or beautiful, or sexy). There were random texts in the middle of the day telling me he missed me. As I type this, I haven't heard from him ALL DAY. My good old reasonable mommy keeps telling me that I "never know what may be going on in his life." Of course, she's right. He's divorced and co-parenting a 7-year-old, he's also a busy professional. Last week was hell week for him on his job. Be that as it MAY, Shellybird has been officially SPOILED by the attention I've received from him over the past several weeks. I did not tell him to shower me with sweet talk. I did not tell him to miss me or say he did. That was all on him. I am a woman who was never anyone's princess, never a "Daddy's girl." Now, all of a sudden, my hard won princess rug has been snatched from under my feet?!
Welp, no tears today. I am gradually forming the (good) habit of not picking up my cell every 10 minutes to see if he sent me a text that I may have missed. Who knows? Maybe tomorrow things will be back to "normal," whatever that is. Wait, who am I kidding? I know what normal is for me: SHELLYBIRD SPOILAGE, and I want some NOW.*
*I know I'm being unreasonable...I KNOW. That's why I'm ranting in my blog instead of calling Daniel and giving him the business.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Shellybird Shortpost: JESUS QUARTER!!!!
My mommy is old school. What choice does she have? She'll be 74 in a few months. Anyways, she saves coins, like most folks do--craptastic economic times, you know. However she gives those fancy coin rolling machines and the Coinstar the bypass and rolls her change by hand. Then she has her only (surviving) child write her name and address on the ROLLS for her when she's done--never on the wrapper while it's still flat. O_o
Anyways, last week she was going through her change and found a quarter with "JESUS" imprinted on it, like someone at the mint did it. She said, "Oh Shellybird, look!" We ruminated for a while on how it could have gotten there, discussed the religious significance of it and then she reluctantly added it to the roll. She looked so sad, and I told her she should hang on to it because it was special. Unless, of course, I find out it's worth millions of dollars, or even only a few hundred thousand. If THAT'S the case, she can kiss the JESUS quarter goodbye. We're supposed to have Him in my our hearts anyway.
Oh, and I'm just going to gloss over the fact that Mommy found a JESUS quarter out of the blue, and I've been looking for his likeness in breakfast toast for years.
Anyways, last week she was going through her change and found a quarter with "JESUS" imprinted on it, like someone at the mint did it. She said, "Oh Shellybird, look!" We ruminated for a while on how it could have gotten there, discussed the religious significance of it and then she reluctantly added it to the roll. She looked so sad, and I told her she should hang on to it because it was special. Unless, of course, I find out it's worth millions of dollars, or even only a few hundred thousand. If THAT'S the case, she can kiss the JESUS quarter goodbye. We're supposed to have Him in my our hearts anyway.
Oh, and I'm just going to gloss over the fact that Mommy found a JESUS quarter out of the blue, and I've been looking for his likeness in breakfast toast for years.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Aw Lawd Jesus, why ain't I got no man?!?!?! Wait, I kinda do...
I did not plan to do one of those "Aw Lawd Jesus, why ain't I got no man?!" posts. However, since this blog is primarily about Shellybird--and that's ME, REMEMBER?!--and the desire for a husband and children (IN THAT ORDER) is so very deep in my heart, I will give this topic a little time.
When I was a teen, I had my life mapped out: After a successful career as a supermodel, I would slow down, if not retire, get married and have 5 babies...yep, have it all in the can by age 30 *boom*. Fast forward 20-some odd years later. I didn't become a supermodel, although I still have aspirations.* I've had 2 or 3 boyfriends. I was even engaged once, but if I'd married that dude, our story would have been a Lifetime movie with Gabrielle Union playing me. (SILENCE! You don't know what I look like!) So, here I am, new-30 years old, with no wedding ring, and nooooo babbies.
During my yearly um...feminine exam in January, my GYN asked me what was I planning to do in regards to having children. (I guess he could hear the ticking of my clock; I know I can.) I told him I was holding out for Mr. Right because I DO NOT want to have children out of wedlock. Granted, that's how I got here, so I certainly don't look down my nose, but my even my mom doesn't want that for her grandchildren-to-be. Anyways, Doc suggested sperm banks as my reproductive time winds down, or if I was REALLY on my ear to go the traditional route, try meeting men online, via dating sites or Facebook. Welp, oooookay...
I'm a black woman who does the interracial dating thing. I've always been the type of person who loves to be around people of all races and cultures, even when it comes to my romantic life. In college, my friends called me "The International Lover," because I had a relationship with a Kenyan who was my first true love/heartbreak--after it ended, it took me years to be able to think about him without crying...years. There were mini-relationships with a white guy, a Mexican, and a Lebanese. (Mini-relationships=relationships that didn't get past kissing with no declaration of love or indication of exclusivity.) Back in October, I started joining AMBW (Asian Men/Black Women) groups on FB because in my small town, I don't encounter many Asian men and I wanted to explore that. That's how I met my "friend."** I found a message in my "other messages" box on Facebook that he sent me back in January. I'd never checked other messages before, didn't even know they existed. I sent him a message apologizing for not responding sooner, and the rest is history. He approached me first, and that's important to me because I hate feeling like I chased a man down. We've been talking for a few weeks and plan to meet up soon--in a safe location of course, cause a sistah ain't got time to wind up dead in nobody's crawlspace. Now, I know the 3 of you reading this are thinking, "Just cause y'all been texting for a few weeks don't make him your man!" Whatevs. There's definitely a connection, and nothing beats the euphoria of feeling relevant, feeling like someone other than your mama gives a damn if you live or die. When he's commuting to work, he sends me a good morning text, "Hey, beautiful," or something like that, not to mention all the texts throughout the day. He makes me smile; I make him smile. It's all gravy. A relationship's gotta start somewhere, right? RIGHT?!
So there you have it--not that you asked for it--my one and only "Aw Lawd Jesus, why ain't I got no man?!" post...I hope.
*My dream of being a model will be taken up in another post.
** In many AMBW groups, the administrators let you know from the jump that their group isn't a dating site and shouldn't be used as such, but I suppose this is what happens when you get a bunch of random humans together...
When I was a teen, I had my life mapped out: After a successful career as a supermodel, I would slow down, if not retire, get married and have 5 babies...yep, have it all in the can by age 30 *boom*. Fast forward 20-some odd years later. I didn't become a supermodel, although I still have aspirations.* I've had 2 or 3 boyfriends. I was even engaged once, but if I'd married that dude, our story would have been a Lifetime movie with Gabrielle Union playing me. (SILENCE! You don't know what I look like!) So, here I am, new-30 years old, with no wedding ring, and nooooo babbies.
During my yearly um...feminine exam in January, my GYN asked me what was I planning to do in regards to having children. (I guess he could hear the ticking of my clock; I know I can.) I told him I was holding out for Mr. Right because I DO NOT want to have children out of wedlock. Granted, that's how I got here, so I certainly don't look down my nose, but my even my mom doesn't want that for her grandchildren-to-be. Anyways, Doc suggested sperm banks as my reproductive time winds down, or if I was REALLY on my ear to go the traditional route, try meeting men online, via dating sites or Facebook. Welp, oooookay...
I'm a black woman who does the interracial dating thing. I've always been the type of person who loves to be around people of all races and cultures, even when it comes to my romantic life. In college, my friends called me "The International Lover," because I had a relationship with a Kenyan who was my first true love/heartbreak--after it ended, it took me years to be able to think about him without crying...years. There were mini-relationships with a white guy, a Mexican, and a Lebanese. (Mini-relationships=relationships that didn't get past kissing with no declaration of love or indication of exclusivity.) Back in October, I started joining AMBW (Asian Men/Black Women) groups on FB because in my small town, I don't encounter many Asian men and I wanted to explore that. That's how I met my "friend."** I found a message in my "other messages" box on Facebook that he sent me back in January. I'd never checked other messages before, didn't even know they existed. I sent him a message apologizing for not responding sooner, and the rest is history. He approached me first, and that's important to me because I hate feeling like I chased a man down. We've been talking for a few weeks and plan to meet up soon--in a safe location of course, cause a sistah ain't got time to wind up dead in nobody's crawlspace. Now, I know the 3 of you reading this are thinking, "Just cause y'all been texting for a few weeks don't make him your man!" Whatevs. There's definitely a connection, and nothing beats the euphoria of feeling relevant, feeling like someone other than your mama gives a damn if you live or die. When he's commuting to work, he sends me a good morning text, "Hey, beautiful," or something like that, not to mention all the texts throughout the day. He makes me smile; I make him smile. It's all gravy. A relationship's gotta start somewhere, right? RIGHT?!
So there you have it--not that you asked for it--my one and only "Aw Lawd Jesus, why ain't I got no man?!" post...I hope.
*My dream of being a model will be taken up in another post.
** In many AMBW groups, the administrators let you know from the jump that their group isn't a dating site and shouldn't be used as such, but I suppose this is what happens when you get a bunch of random humans together...
Monday, March 18, 2013
Shellybird Shortpost: Who I Am...
I told myself I wasn't going to let more than one week pass between posts. Apparently, I lied.
Anyways, don't let the title of this post fool you. Unlike some bloggers, I have no immediate plans to reveal my real name or face, and I'm not knocking other bloggers. I guess I'm just not that brave yet. Right now, all anyone has to associate with this blog is some (public domain) bird clip art and a childhood nickname bestowed upon me by a beloved uncle. I like it that way.
That said, a few weeks ago, I was spending some quality time with my homie/lover/friend, better known as Facebook. I found something that really hit home with me...this ri chere*:
http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjs538/30-examples-of-how-we-are-all-elaine-benes?s=mobile. I am all of them except numbers 12 and 14. I can't be #12 because I'm anemic. As for #14, it's only a matter of time, honey...a matter of freakin' time. Check it out, and get in touch with YOUR inner Elaine Benes. I'd like to thank Matt Stopera of www.buzzfeed.com for helping me find myself.
*Ri chere is Southern for "right here".
Anyways, don't let the title of this post fool you. Unlike some bloggers, I have no immediate plans to reveal my real name or face, and I'm not knocking other bloggers. I guess I'm just not that brave yet. Right now, all anyone has to associate with this blog is some (public domain) bird clip art and a childhood nickname bestowed upon me by a beloved uncle. I like it that way.
That said, a few weeks ago, I was spending some quality time with my homie/lover/friend, better known as Facebook. I found something that really hit home with me...this ri chere*:
http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjs538/30-examples-of-how-we-are-all-elaine-benes?s=mobile. I am all of them except numbers 12 and 14. I can't be #12 because I'm anemic. As for #14, it's only a matter of time, honey...a matter of freakin' time. Check it out, and get in touch with YOUR inner Elaine Benes. I'd like to thank Matt Stopera of www.buzzfeed.com for helping me find myself.
*Ri chere is Southern for "right here".
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Shellybird Starts Blogging
Oh, hello there. My name is Shellybird. Well, not my government name, but it's the name I will use for this blog. The totally unoriginal idea to blog came to me over a year ago. I finally bought a tablet--which I ADORE, by the way--and I decided the time has come. People blog for many different reasons, and there are many different types of blogs. I researched this, and when I got to the part about things you shouldn't blog about, I got cold feet. I'm no expert on ANYTHING except my life, and I have made a gracious plenty of F-ups where that's concerned. I know that most people don't want to read about the trials and tribuations of a single woman who's age is "the new 30", who wants (my version of) a fabulous life that includes a husband and children. The way I see it, blogging is like making music. There are going to be people who will hate your song; I mean DESPISE it. As soon as they hear the first few notes of it on the radio, they change the station. On the flip side, there will be people who love your song so much, it's constantly on repeat, and they've made it their ringtone. With that in mind, my feet have warmed up again. I am me, and that's all I'll ever be. I will simply blog about anything that comes to mind, anything that gets my wheels a turnin'. I would like to be a writer. This blog will be a way to help me work on my writing skills. Oh, and to all you "grammar crusaders" out there, I know my punctuation may be off at times. No need for critiques. I have an English grammar text book that I bought at a used bookstore last summer. As soon as I find it--don't ask--I'll have it by my side for each and every post. Most of all, this blog is a diary...a diary that total strangers may read, if they Google a word or phrase that happens to be in one of my posts and feel led to see their Googling through to page 90 of the search results. Hey, it happens. Well, that's all for now. Your Shellybird is hungry. Gonna find a worm and then tuck my head under my wing and get some sleep...after I Google myself.
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