A book I love and one I didn't

Aahhhh reading. One of my favorite hobbies that I don't indulge

in nearly enough anymore. It used to be that I would make biweekly trips to the library and never come home with less than a dozen books. As a child, I always read at least 4 grade levels above where I was and it was nothing for me to devour a novel in a matter of a day. My teachers loved me and I drove my mother insane with my choices. The day I brought home Helter Skelter in fifth grade is the day I think I almost caused her to have a stroke. My library privileges were nearly stripped away that evening. I had to promise not to bring home any more books on murderers and my father had to promise to keep a closer eye on my reading selections. Neither of us kept our promise, I just became sneaky about bringing my books into the house and my dad knowingly turned a blind eye.

Years upon years and books upon books have created a list of perennial favorites as well as a list of utter bombs. Books that I love and books that I hate. Ask me my favorite movie or song and I would tell you it depends on my mood, but I could easily give you my preferred genre. Ask me my favorite book and I will immediately blurt out "The Great Gatsby", yet I wouldn't be able to pick a favorite genre of book. Weird, right? What's really odd, is that I didn't used tonlike this book.

I originally read The Great Gatsby in high school and I wasn't a fan. Most likely because I had to read it to soak up every last detail in case of quizzes and not for my own personal reading pleasure. These days, I pick up my battered copy and read it cover to cover at least once a year. In fact, my love for Gatsby led me to read all of Fitzgerald's novels and short stories. To me, none of them compare to his magnum opus, but they are pretty good reads, as well.

For those of you not familiar with the book, The Great Gatsby is a tale of friendship, romance and tragedy. Since this isn't a book report, I won't go into all of the details. However, I will explain why I enjoy this book so much. First of all, I feel that the characters are intelligently written. They all have good and bad residing within them, which brings a true sense of humanity to the book. Fitzgerald also does a beautiful job writing in the background details for all other major players. The setting for the book is described in good detail and really sucked me into the story. Jazz age America was a selfish, hedonistic time and Fitzgerald does a brilliant job of letting the reader see that. The symbolism is subtle and most readers will be sure to pick up on it. All in all, I find The Great Gatsby to be a well written book about a bygone era.

Now, for a book that I didn't love... Immediately Bram Stoker's "Dracula" comes to mind. I read this book the summer after I graduated from high school and I really wanted to enjoy it. Instead, I walked away from it on numerous occasions before I finally took several days and forced myself to read it cover to cover.

I was truly surprised by how much I disliked this book. I love the horror genre, I immensely enjoy classic literature and the early 90's movie based off of this book is one of my favorites. So what was it about Dracula that I found so dreadful? Simply put, it moved way too slow for me. The characters are well written, the story itself is a great one, the setting and attention to detail are superb. I just found this to be a slow and ponderous read. It may be one of the greatest horror novels of all time, but it just wasn't meant for me. If you have ever wanted to read Stoker's classic vampire tale, please do not let my assessment stop you. It may very well become one of your favorites.

So what books do you guys love and what ones do you hate? I am getting ready to set up a new blog, a book blog, and would love to hear your opinions! There's a very good chance that I will be using your suggestions for upcoming book reviews.

What tattoos I have and what special meaning they have

Tattoos have always fascinated me. They speak to my rebellious, artistic side. Loudly!!! I don't remember when I first decided to adorn myself with ink, but it had to have been fairly early in my life. It seems that I was always in trouble for writing and drawing on myself and my clothes.

I remember talking with my father about getting my first tattoo done. I had gone with a friend and watched while she got her first one done. I was entranced and I wanted one, too. I had no clue what I wanted and we discussed the options. It was decided that when the time came, dear old dad would accompany me to get it done. Unfortunately, that day never came. He passed away before I could get my first tattoo done. It wasn't until after the insurance company had settled out his life insurance policy did I get my first tattoo done.

The day I received my check was the day I decided I was finally getting my tattoo done and it was to be in memory of him. His favorite color was blue, so I chose a blue rose surrounded by Celtic vinework and leaves. It was excruciating for me to sit still and wait as the needle rhythmically placed colored ink beneath my skin. Not because it hurt, because the pain was almost nonexistent, but because it was torture for me to still while it was being done. Afterwards, as I inspected my new artwork in the mirror, I felt a tinge of sadness as I remembered who was supposed to be with me at that moment. It hurt me deeply that my father wasn't there, but at the same time, I felt there was no higher honor than choosing my first tat in his memory.

My second tattoo also holds a very special meaning for me. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I suffer from BPD (borderline personality disorder). One of the symptoms, for a lack of a better word for it, is cutting. I have been a cutter since junior high school and my arms bear numerous scars from my turbulent past. I haven't cut into my flesh in nearly 3 1/2 years, but there have been a handful of times that I wanted to. As a way of reminding myself to be stronger than my illness, I got the word "fighter" tattooed amongst the scars on my left wrist. It is my way of telling myself that I am able to fight through the pain in my head and my heart and inflict more pain on my body. So far, it has served its purpose perfectly. It has the added bonus of being a conversation starter. Numerous people have asked me its significance and I am not shy about admitting my illness to anyone. It is a part of who I am, and if my tattoo can help someone else come to terms with themselves, it is worth it.

In addition to the blue rose honoring my father, I plan on getting a similar rose in honor of each of my children in their favorite colors. Pink for Emily, purple for Abby, orange for Chris and yellow for Michael. And to honor myself, I am planning on getting a chef sleeve done. Yes, I know it pretty much seals my fate as being a cook for the rest of my life. But I'm OK with that. Its what I do and its what I'm passionate about.

Someone who fascinates me and why

There are so many people who fascinate me for so many

reasons, but today's post is about my children. So it's not just about one person in particular, but the four most important people in my life. Ever.

Michael
My older son Michael turns 16 in less than a month. It is so very hard for me to fathom he is a teenager, let alone 16!!! already. When he came out for spring break, the inevitable happened. He is finally taller than me. *sigh* Anyway... Michael fascinates me on so many levels, but particularly how emotional he is. He is not your typical macho, rough, tough I gotta show the world I'm a man now kind of teenager. He feels the world differently than most, I can hear it in his voice when he talks. He questions me about a lot of things, and while I applaud his curiosity, sometimes it drives me to the point where I snap. After a long day of work in a hot kitchen, the last thing a mother wants to come home to is a round of 20 questions. I see his emotional side as both a blessing and a curse, as I am the same way. When I'm "on", I tend to over feel and over think and I see that starting to emerge in him. When I'm " off", I will shut you out in half a heartbeat. I am seeing that emerge innhim as well. I'm hoping I can teach him how to cope with his emotions instead of letting them get the better of him, as mine often do.

Emily
Emily, or as I usually call her Emmy, is the older of my twin daughters. Older by 19 minutes, but she lauds those 19 short minutes over her sister's head like a trophy! Emily fascinates me for the beauty that is beginning to emerge from her. Physically, she isn't built like her father or I, but if you had to choose a parent that she favors, it would be me. If she continues to grow as she is, my daughter is going to be tall and willowy. I am tall, but I'm solidly built. Miss Em is long and lean and all flowing arms and legs. She also has beautiful long, straight sandy blonde hair, grey eyes and her facial features are taking on a delicate doll like appearance. I love watching her when she plays or when she's dancing because she is just breath taking to behold. I sit back in wonder and ask how I made something so delicate and graceful looking when I am anything but delicate or graceful!

Abigail
Also known as Abby, she is my younger daughter. She absolutely hates being the younger sister and rebels against Emily whenever possible and often complains that she never has any privacy or space to herself. What fascinates me about Abby is the force behind her personality. There is no halfway with my babybgirl-she is 100% all other time. If she's angry, everyone knows it. If she's happy, everyone knows it. If she is feeling particularly proud of an accomplishment, everyone knows it. She has a fire that burns in her that I'm going to have to teach her how to control before it causes problems. When she feels she has been wronged, she will not back down. That includes her arguments with me! I am a strong willed woman, Abby sometimes makes me look weak.

Christopher
Aaahhhh, my baby. My "baby" is going to be ten this year and I simply don't feel that that is possible.  I always felt that Chris was going to be the class clown when he stated school. There isn't much this boy won't do to get a laugh out of me and his siblings. Sing silly songs? Check! Tell knock knock jokes? Check! Play practical jokes? Check! But what he truly excels at is his ability with physical comedy. He can control his falls and trips like no one I have ever seen outside of Hollywood. This hold is either going to be a comedian or a stunt person! But what truly fascinates me about my youngest is his impeccable timing. He seems to intuitively know when a perfectly timed burp will get the most laughs or when to loudly proclaim "whoever smelt it dealt it". When he erupts in a fit of giggles, know that no one is saferom his shenanigans. And those shenanigans are nearly always infectious!

A place I would live but have never visited

I have never been much of a traveler. I prefer my adventures to be within a day's drive from home. I am perfectly content to allow my sister be the world traveler. This post is about a place where I would live yet have never visited. For me, this was a very easy topic to tackle. I have always said that if I had the means, I would pack up my children and move to Sweden.

Why Sweden, you ask? Well, for starters, it is one of the countries that my family comes from. My mother's parents were Swedish and Norwegian, so it makes sense to me that I would want to go to my "motherland". The pictures that I have seen of the country show a stunning landscape of snow, mountains, agriculture, forest and lakes. While most people automatically assume that Sweden is covered in snow most of the time and quite cold, the opposite is true. Southern areas, where the bulk of the population resides, has a climate similar to what I currently experience here in Ohio, with four distinct seasons.

Another advantage, in my opinion, of living in Sweden is their standard of living. The country provides universal healthcare and tertiary education for its citizens. Two things I find sorely lacking here. It has the world's eighth highest per capita income and and ranks highly in quality of life, health, education, civil liberties and other metrics of national performance. The country also maintains a stance of neutrality when it comes to foreign affairs.

Sweden also appeals to me on a much more personal level as there is a relatively low number of people who believe in god residing there, the country was one of the first to embrace gender equality and they have a relatively high number of single people living in the country. Sweden has a culture that is deeply rooted in its history and revolves around the changing of the seasons.

Ever since I first heard tales of trolls and elves and gnomes and fairies, Sweden has always held a special place in my soul. I hope one day to visit so I can behold the beauty and richness the court has to offer. Who knows, if I do, I may never come back!

Ten Interesting Things About Myself

To be honest, I don't consider myself to be an interesting person. I want the simple things in life: a happy and healthy family, a job I love, a home of my own and to share my life with people who deserve to have me in their lives. I think I am actually pretty boring. I am a single mom precariously walking the fine line between sanity and having a total mental breakdown. I work too much. I am always stressed out over something. And I cry entirely too much about the things that I have no control over. However, I have had some very interesting experiences over the last 42 years, 51 weeks and 1 day (for those of you trying to do the math, I turn 43 this coming Sunday LOL). Here are ten interesting things about me:

1. I'm not the crazy cat lady, even though I do own two of Satan's furry minions. Instead, I am the crazy recipe lady. I have two book shelves dedicated to cookbooks, cooking and food magazines, recipes I have printed from the internet or cut out from magazines and collected from product packages. I also literally have several hundred bookmarked on my laptop and even more spread out through the internet. Need a recipe? I am your go-to girl!
2. When choosing my children's names, I was sure to include names from other family members. My sons share names with their grandfathers and uncles. My daughters share names with a grandmother, an aunt and a cousin. 
3. I suffer from borderline personality disorder. 
4. My cats are named after my two favorite styles of beer: Stout and Porter.
5. I am extraordinarily clumsy. If there is a silly way to hurt myself, I have probably done it. Cut myself on granola? Check! Tripped on the bottom stair and broken three toes? Check! Burnt off an acrylic nail lighting a cigarette? Check!
6. Three of my all-time favorite movies are animated ones from Disney: Fantasia, Beauty and the Beast and The Little Mermaid. In fact, Fantasia is the main reason I have such an affinity for classical music. 
7. My eyes are grey, but depending on the makeup and clothes I wear and my mood, they will change color ranging from sapphire blue to gun metal to almost black. If they are close to black, you better run!
8. Once upon a time, in a lifetime far, far away, I worked as a stripper. For nearly 8 years of my life I was known as Aimee by day and Katt by night.
9. I am a beer geek through and through. I am writing a cookbook where every recipe includes a craft beer and I am working to become a cicerone.
10. I suffer from what I call creative ADD. I write, I paint, I draw, I craft, I love taking photographs, and I work as a chef. My mind is always in a creative jumble, which often results in insomnia. 

My First Love and First Kiss: Part Two

Who could ever forget their first love? Not just their first crush, but their first TRUE love? The first person they ever uttered those panic inducing, terrifying words to? I know I couldn't. My first love was everything I had thought love could be in my young, naive mind. Everything and so much more. It was reckless, it was passionate, it was heady, it was crushing. All in all, it was absolutely, wonderfully, horribly perfect.

His name was Larry and he was a junior when I met him, I was a freshman whose life was in utter disarray. My mom had gone into the hospital right before the school year started and the news was far from good-terminal brain cancer. Even though my mother and I never saw eye-to-eye, I was losing her right when I needed her most. That's when he entered my life. I remember the first day that I met him was New Year's Day 1988. I had spent the night with my best friends and a group of us got together to hang out. To me, he was larger than life and something about his presence immediately drew me to him. He was seeing someone at the time, but that didn't stop a friendship from being forged between the two of us. When she moved out of state, we began seeing each and I tumbled down a path into young, crazy love. When she unexpectedly moved back, everything between us came to a screeching halt. I was left hurt, confused and felt like every heartbeat would be my last.

Luckily for me, she had a strict father who placed restrictions on when the two of them could see each other, so after the initial hurt wore off, he and I started spending time together again. Deep down in my heart, I knew I was just a fill-in, but at that point in time, I would do whatever it took to be with the boy who so captivated my heart. They eventually split up and we got back together. I was over the moon happy and felt like nothing would ever tear us apart again. Ah, young love! I only had eyes for him and I was confident he only had eyes for me. That was until I found out that he had sex with one of my best friends behind my back. Several people had approached me about the situation and my friend even admitted it to me. However, he denied it ever happened. I was crushed. Nothing could stop the river of tears that streamed from my eyes. My days were a blur of anger and hurt and resentment and betrayal. Ever love song that I heard made my heart crumple inside, and a few times my knees even buckled out of the grief of the situation. To make matters worse, my mother's health was failing fast, which left me reeling in another way. I felt like my entire world was falling apart and there was nothing I could do to stop it. It all came to a head over Memorial Day weekend when my sister and I got into a huge fight and I left home. Frantically, I tried calling my boyfriend to come get me away, but he had plans with friends. I called one of his best friends, who came and picked me up. We spent the entire day out with his family, going to a softball game then out to eat. After, we went to one of my favorite places in the world-Caesar's Creek Gorge and walked around and talked under the moonlight. I don't know when during that night the plan took form in my head, but that night it would be tit for tat and I lost my virginity to one of my boyfriend's best friends. I'm not proud of what I did, but I do not regret it, either. It was what I needed at that moment in my life when everything was falling apart. A few days later, my mom died. Looking back, that whole summer is a blur. I don't remember when we actually broke up, but sometime during that summer or the beginning of my sophomore year, the relationship came to an end for good, or so I thought.

He went on to date one of my best friends and as we vied for her time and attention, became enemies of sorts. Part of me still hated what he had put me through and I am sure he felt the same towards me. They dated for all of my sophomore year and well into my junior year then one fateful night brought us back together. A group of our mutual friends got together over Thanksgiving weekend and we were both invited over. I didn't want to be anywhere near him, but at the same time I wanted to be with my friends, so I relented and I went. Somehow through the course of the night, it was evident that all of our animosity masked the feelings we refused to admit to each other. We still cared for one another. When dawn broke and everyone began to part ways, the question of who would be taking me home came up. One of my best friends saw what was unfolding and insisted that he take me home, he didn't want to see me hurt again. My ex was just as adamant that he would be taking me home, reassuring my friend that everything would be fine. I left with my ex and we spent much of the weekend together, thoroughly enjoying each other's company. His brown eyes had never melted my heart like they did that weekend. His deep voice never sounded richer to my eager ears. And his hands on mine never felt more perfect. Yup, we were well on our way to getting back together.

Needless to say, the two of us getting back together caused some big problems. I lost my best friend when I chose to be with him. And the rancor amongst some of our mutual friends was obvious. It didn't matter to us, we were back together and so in love with each other. We continued to date through my senior year, my graduation and most of the following summer. The good times were amazing, the bad times were downright awful. We both did each other wrong, but we also lifted each other up. The dichotomy of our relationship was dizzying for us both and the whirlwind finally came to an end as summer was coming to a close. No matter how badly we treated each, nothing had prepared me for the onslaught that our breakup rained on me. In my mind, I kept telling myself that we had always overcome the obstacles in our path, that we would overcome this, too. I was never so wrong in my life. This wasn't an ordinary breakup, this was love turned into seething, blinding hatred. Not long after, he moved to Florida and I was left to nurse my wounds through winter.

The last time we saw each other was in 1991 and I often thought of him over the years. There was never any illusion of us randomly meeting and a grand romance rekindling. It was more of a mild curiosity. You can't spend 4 years of your life in someone's life and not look back on them fondly from time to time. Several years ago our paths crossed on MySpace and we began chatting. We exchanged a few sad emails as we updated each other on the losses we have both had (my father, his brother). When I joined Facebook, I sought him out and added him as a friend. I find myself browsing his pictures from time to time when my heart wanders back to our high school days. If I come across a picture that I know he will like or laugh at, I will post it to his wall and from time to time I will comment on a thread where appropriate. Our lives have taken us in such opposite directions that we really don't have much in common anymore other than those 4 shared years, but he will always be my first true love and he will always own a piece of my heart. Part of me envies anyone who goes on to marry their high school sweetheart, but I know that even though we talked about it, we were never meant to be forever. What we had was so over the top, there was no way we could sustain it for any true length of time. And you know what, that's perfectly fine. There's an old saying that people enter our lives for a reason, a season or a lifetime. His season was 4 years, but those memories will last a lifetime. Do I regret the wrongs I did him? No, I truly don't. I don't believe in regrets. I firmly believe that every action and reaction shapes us into the people we are today and I think we are both better people as we learned so much from each other. Am I sorry for some of the things I put him through? Fuck yes I am. I am not proud of the wrongs I did him and I hope that after all this time he realizes that. I tried to love him in the best possible way I knew how, and there were numerous times that love went astray. Things were bound to go insane when two personalities as forceful as ours collided that fateful New Year's Day. I am just glad that after all was said and done, we are both able to be friends of sorts and share an occasional humorous memory.

This post is a part of a 30 Day Writing Challenge that I am participating in for the month of April. 

My first love and first kiss: Part One

Aaahhhh, young love. It makes us do-and say-crazy things! It is so over the top that after experiencing it, a life is never the same. While thinking about today's writing prompt, I couldn't decide if I should write about my first crush (it certainly felt like love to me) or my first boyfriend (the first man that I ever uttered those frightening words to), so I decided to tackle both topics before moving on to the topic of my first kiss.

My first crush felt like so much more than a mere crush. I felt my feelings for him from the tip of my nose to the tips of my toes and every where in between! His name was Heath and we were in the same grade together at Springboro Junior High School. He was a little bit taller than me with brown hair, the most amazing brown eyes and the best butt I think I have ever personally seen to this day on a man. He played basketball and ran track and we shared some of the same classes. He lived close enough to me that he would come over in the evenings and we would shoot hoops and talk together until the street lights came on. He was every thing I ever wanted in a boy-smart, cute, athletic and nice. God, he was so nice! Different from most of the other guys I went to school with who were always so full of themselves or so awkward that the mere thought of talking to a girl spun them into a panic. He was beautiful and confident and oh, so perfect in my young eyes!

I remember being on the newspaper and yearbook staff and going to the home basketball under the guise of photographing the events, but in reality I went so I could watch and fawn over him. I would say 75% of the pictures I took had him as the star. We had quite a few of the same friends, so we hung out together at parties from time to time, but the evenings spent playing basketball were what mattered most to me. He was the one person I always felt I could be myself with. No drama, no bullshit, just a boy and a girl sharing time together and enjoying each other's company. The summer before we started high school changed all that. He went to Egypt to spend the summer with his mom and my mother was in the hospital with brain cancer. He came home just before the start of our freshman year and we talked briefly about my mom and that was the last time we ever hung out together. I'm not sure what caused our friendship to drift apart, but that late summer day was the beginning of the end. School started and we went our separate ways. When I think of high school, he is always the one person I remember most fondly. And I always wonder whatever happened to him. Where does he live, is he married, does he have children? He was such a prominent force in my life that he will always hold a special place in my heart-my first love.

This post is a part of a 30 Day Writing Challenge that I am participating in for the month of April. 

My Earliest Memory

Memories...

Fragments from our past that resurface from time to time to remind us of what once was. What will never again be.

Yeah, I know. I sound like a real downer. That happens when your childhood experience feels like a giant rip-off. Bitter? Hell yes I am. But before I go off on a rant that is better saved for Day 24, I am going to focus on the day's prompt that lies before me. This post is supposed to be about my earliest memory. Can I even pick on single, solitary moment? They all kind of run together into one big blur. Was that an actual memory? Was it a dream? Do I actually remember that moment or is it only because someone has talked about it so much that it feels like a memory. I knew this one was going to be difficult, I just didn't realize how much so...

Looking back at my childhood, the earliest memory that comes to mind was when my mother had her appendix out, and the memory itself is very foggy and fragmented. I may have been 2 or 3 at the time, the very oldest 4 and I feel that is stretching it. I had the mumps when I was 4 and I have a fairly good recollection of that. Anyway, back to the topic at hand.

My mother had appendicitis sometime within the first 4 years of my life. I have no memory of visiting her at the hospital, and I seriously doubt that I did. I don't even remember her not being at home, I just remember being told that she had surgery and was really sore and that I had to be gentle with her so I didn't hurt her. For a child of my age, I found it all very confusing, but I did as I was told. I remember her wearing her long sleeping gowns and her green fuzzy zip-up robe for several days and taking a lot of naps with her on our ugly green couch. The smell of sweat was an ever present scent, not over powering, but simply there. Which makes sense seeing as how she was always  bundled up and under a blanket, plus the heat from two bodies being curled up together. We both seemed to always have a fine band of perspiration along our hair lines as well, from the shared heat of the confined space.

My first memory is neither a bad memory nor a good one, it just simply is. Some people's first recollection may be of a life changing event, but mine is rather mundane. Part of me feels like I am cheating myself and my readers by not writing about a more momentous occasion, but it is what it is. This is my first memory.

This post is a part of a 30 Day Writing Challenge that I am participating in for the month of April. 

Five Problems with Social Media

Don't get me wrong, social media is a wonderful tool that I use every day of my life. It has helped me forge new friendships and business connections that I never would have if it wasn't for the internet. It has also helped me reconnect with friends and loved ones from my past. Hell, it has even helped me find my voice and given me an outlet for sharing my opinions. All good things in my opinion. Unfortunately, social media is not always a good thing. Here are five things that I consider to be problems with social media:

1. The world is seen in either black or white. Everything online is so polarized these days. People see things exclusively in white (their opinion) or black (any opinion that is contrary to theirs). It has never been more obvious than during this election cycle. Every day I see people viciously attack one on another because of a difference of opinion. An opinion is a view or judgement formed about something, not necessarily based on fact or knowledge. Opinions people, we are all entitled to them. They are not right or wrong, they just simply are. Let me repeat that--They are not right or wrong, they just simply are. We all have' em. 
2. The fakeness of it all. Every day I see people makes posts about how wonderful their life is, how perfect their spouse is, how angelic their children are, etc, etc, etc. I call bullshit! Nobody's life is wine and roses day in and day out. There are those refreshing people who don't try to bs their way through social media and I love them for it. I try valiantly to be one of those people myself. No illusions with me. If I'm happy, you know it. If I am pissed off, you know it. Sometimes to the point that I embarrass myself. But I would rather be a fool than a liar. 
3. The disconnect it can sometimes create. While I have been fortunate to make some amazing friends through social media, it can also create a disconnect from society. It is easier for many people to sit behind a keyboard all day (and night) and communicate with the world around them. Unfortunately, I have noticed that many of these people lack the critical skills need to effectively communicate with others face to face. A perfect example of this from my personal life goes back three years ago when I was dumped via Facebook messenger. Instead of doing the right thing and ending the relationship face to face, or even voice to voice over the telephone, I was told over chat that it was over. I have friends that have similar stories to tell, including one who was recently fired over Facebook. Social media gives many the courage to do and say things that they would never do in real life, the courage to do amazingly cowardly things.
4. The competition it creates. For many, social media is a popularity contest-no more, no less. It used to be said that he with the most toys wins, but a lot of people carry that attitude online these days. If you don't have enough friends, you are viewed inferior in some way. You don't have 1,000+ friends? There is obviously something wrong with you... People, life is not a competition. Social media shouldn't be either. 
5. Bullying. I was an abused child, I have never hidden this fact from people. I was also bullied in high school, once again, I have never hidden this fact. As an adult, people still try to bully me online. But guess what? Zero fucks given. I don't really give a damn if you don't like my religious outlook (or lack of) or that I am pro-choice, or my opinion on any other number of topics. I am who I am and I believe what I believe. Nothing anyone says or does is going to change that. But that doesn't stop the bullies. The bullies that call me names, the bullies that tell me I am weak, the bullies that try to play my friends off of me for their own sick, twisted pleasure. I don't know why it doesn't bother me as an adult when it hurt so deeply as a kid, but it's water off this old duck's back. Unfortunately, not everyone is as strong as I am when it comes to social media bullying. Words hurt. Actions hurt. The wound may not always be physical, but the pain is every bit as painful. I don't know what it is about the internet that brings out the worst in people, but lives are ruined because people feel entitled to be assholes in a public forum without pausing for a moment to consider the consequences of their actions. 

This post is a part of a 30 Day Writing Challenge that I am participating in for the month of April. 

Thirty Day Writing Challenge

One of the things I enjoy most in this world is writing. I currently write on a number of various topics on the internet and am working on a cookbook. Right now, everything I post is non-fiction in one form or another, how to's, guides, recipes, reviews, etc. As a child, I was quite a prolific creative writer and published the very first time when I was in fifth grade in a young authors program. Throughout school, I wrote a variety of fiction stories, myths and copious amounts of poetry. As I grew older, I distanced myself further and further from the realm of fiction, tackling more non-fiction topics as my creativity became stifled by the demands of work and parenting. When 2015 morphed into 2016, I made a promise to myself that I would start writing creatively again. A couple of weeks ago, a meme popped up on my Facebook feed titled the "30 Day Writing Challenge" and I decided to embark on this challenge beginning this month. Each day for the entire month of April, I will be tackling the corresponding challenge. I'm sure the results will be an eclectic mix of funny, sad, eye opening, enlightening and more. For those of you that are interested in following along, here are the 30 prompts with links to the individual blog post.

1. Five problems with social media
2. My earliest memory
3. My first love and first kiss (First crush, first true love, first kiss)
4. Ten interesting things about myself
5. A place I would live but have never visited
6. Someone who fascinates me and why
7. What tattoos I have and what special meaning they have
8. A book I love and one I didn't
9. My feelings on ageism
10. A fruit I did not like and why
11. My current relationship status
12. Two words or phrases that make me laugh
13. My commute to and from work
14. My life in 7 years
15. Three pet peeves
16. Bullet list my entire day
17. A quote I try to live by
18. My favorite color and why
19. Five fears I have
20. Put my music player on shuffle. Write down the first 3 songs that play and my initial thoughts of them
21. My zodiac sign and whether I think it fits me
22. My morning routine
23. A family member I dislike
24. Something I miss
25. Four weird traits I have
26. Things I'd say to an ex
27. What I wore today
28. The word or phrase I use constantly
29. The night of my 21st birthday
30. One thing I am excited for

It is my hope that these prompts will help to energize my creative spirit and help me forge ahead in my writing career. I love writing non-fiction, but the time has come to awaken the sleeping creative spirit that lurks inside of me and begin publishing more and more fiction as well.