Well here it goes..
I've always wanted to start a blog, but never really knew how to go about it. I mean now it all seems fairly simple, but for some reason I always thought it would be much harder. It must be my procrastination. So how do I go about this now? Do I stick to one topic and talk about that only? Do I branch off to many different topics? I originally wanted to start this to get things off my chest. Also another reason being, I want to be a critic one day so I figured what a better place to start. At least if I can get a great blog started, with people who may actually want to read what I have to write, well that's a great start isn't it? I don't know if I should try and start from the beginning, or if I should just ramble on and throw in point by point when they come to me, I'm just kind of at a loss. Do I have the attitude like I'm talking to friends? Or should I be professional about it in case someone important reads it? To a certain extent I think I'm getting my hopes up. Like someone important is going to want to read this. Or how about someone at all? I mean sure, I can post my blog website on Facebook and I'm sure a couple people might read it pretending to be interested, but how do I get myself out there? I want people to want to read what I have to write! I have opinions! I feel like this is absolutely necessary. I mean, if I don't try at least, I'm not going to get anywhere. At least if i put some effort into it I'll know that I tried. Something is better than nothing. Sometimes I feel like I could sit at this computer for weeks and never stop typing. Sometimes I cant write a thing. I used to write all the time. Poems, letters, songs, etc;. Then one day I just stopped. Back in those days though I was depressed. Maybe not clinically diagnosed, but it doesn't take a doctor to tell you your sad. I used to be one of those people I call "attention seeking whores". Well not the whore part, but I most definitely was an attention seeker. I cut myself, I did drugs, I looked for love in all the wrong places, I ran away from home, I got in fights, I dropped out of school. The whole shebang. (Not sure if that spelling or word is accurate). I was just a bad bad teenager. However, I have reason to believe that something does not come from nothing. I didn't just magically become a horrid person overnight. No. This is something that took time. Years and years to be honest. It all started when I was approximately 5 years old. Well actually lets start from 0-5. I was born on August 29, 1988 in Lethbridge, AB, Canada. My fathers name is Patrick, and my mothers, Shelley. My mother already had 2 children prior to me. My half siblings: Lindsay and Tyler. That being said, when I was born who was the one that was put up for adoption? Well that would be myself. Seeing as there was already 2 children in the picture, we couldn't have a third. In a sense I understand. I mean she was already dealing with 2 kids in a dead end job so another kid? I'm glad that she did it, and I understand why, but in the end, I cant help but harbour some animosity. My mother didn't want me. I should be allowed to be somewhat bitter shouldn't I? I mean wouldnt you? One of the two people in the world thats supposed to love you unconditionally and forever, and she doesnt want me. Ok ok. Pity partys over. I suppose in writing this I realize that I may have more animosity than originally thought. I knew that in writing this it would bring up old emotions, I just didnt think that it would happen so quickly. However, let us continue. After being put up for adoption by my mother, my father spent two years in the court system adopting me. I mean of course I dont know the exact details, but Ive seen the official court documents giving my father full and permanent custody signed in 1990, so its not hard to realize how long it took. I have brief glimpses and memories from my childhood, but then again, who can remember it all? I remember my father used to work up north alot when I was little so I would stay with my grandparents in Coalhurst, AB. Its about 10 minutes outside of Lethbridge. My "Nanny" and "Poppa" as I called them, or Marion and Harvey Kilfoyle as everyone else knew them, were the greatest grandparents anyone could ever have. There house was pretty fantastic too. There was a hot tub in the basement. In the basement! You cant tell me thats not cool. I remember sitting in that hot tub all the time with my poppa singing the theme song for "Married with Children". Love and marriage, love and marriage, goes together like a horse and carriage....you know the one. My poppas office was right next to the hot tub room and there was this little door separating the two rooms. I think it was probably about a foot wide by a foot high. That was my door. I would always go through that little door. From the hot tub to the office, from the hot tub to the office. I didnt need the real door, I had my own. It was a very sad day when I got too big to fit through it. Eventually, my father got a job where he could be home every night and there was no need for me to stay with my grandparents anymore. Of course I would always visit seeing as we only lived about 15 mins away, but it was never quite like how it had been before. One day I remember going over there to visit, and my poppa called me into his office. I was 5. He sat me down and very seriously asked me if I would like to learn how to play the piano. Being only 5 I got really excited and said yes. He told me I would have to take lessons and practice everyday, and if I did that he would buy me a piano. I agreed and the rest is history, I ended up playing for 9 years. Almost completed all ten grades of The Royal Conservatory and everything, Thats another story though. We arnt there yet. Growng up with only my father and grandparents was great. I was extremely spoiled seeing as I was an only child and the youngest grandchild. I had almost anything a little girl could want. A big bed, tons of stuffed animals, pretty clothes, all of it. I think too in a sense, they kind of felt bad for me. See I wasnt exactly born the cutest little baby. I was born with a lazy eye. My left one. It was completely crosseyed. So you can only imagine what I looked like. I had glasses from as long as I can remember. I was five when I had my first eye surgery. Im not exactly sure what they did, as I was so young, but I know it did not work. I still needed glasses and my eye was still crooked. I was 12 when I had my second one. I know in that surgery they did not fix it, but they did. They did not fix the actual reason why my eye was crooked, but cosmetically they fixed it. They simply loosened muscles on the right side of my eye, and tightened them on the left. So my left eye is still "broken" and does not have very good vision in it, but at least it looks nice now. I remember my poppa had a boat rental company in the Waterton Lake National Parks. It was on Cameron Lake. Every summer we would go out there and camp, fish, boat, build sandcastles, all of it. Those were some of the best times of my life. I think for the most part now, we may have completed 0-5. Im sure ill remember more as i write, but for now, thats all she wrote. About that time perios anyways. So now we come to age 5. Im living in Lethbride with my father in a house. We have the upstairs, another family has the basement. I dont remember alot about that old house. I remember my father had a big tire in the backyard that he was going to make me a tire swing with. In the basement was a single mother and her son, who was about a couple years older than I. The little boy decided that one day he was going to play in the backyard and urinate in my tire!!! He took a pee in my tire! Stupid kid. I remember I was so upset. I cried for a couple hours. I couldnt believe that the boy had just ruined my tire. I look back on it now and realize obviously it wasnt that big of a deal, but to me that day, I felt like he had ruined my entire life! Everything got sorted by my father and his mother, and I got my tire swing(from a different tire), but I never talked to that boy again! Another memory I have is when I lost my first tooth. I was sitting on the couch in our living room watching the ORIGINAL Power Rangers. Twas' my favorite show. I was eating a box of raisins, you know, the kind that comes in the little red box? The name escapes my mind now, but it will come to me. Anyways, there I was just sitting on the couch watching Power Rangers, eating raisins, and minding my own, when all of a sudden I bit down on something extrememly hard. Ouch! I took it out of my mouth thinking that maybe it was just a hard raisin or something and lo and behold! Theres my tooth!! I was so excited I ran down the hallway to the kitchen where my father was just screaming and jumping up and down. Now that I think about it, Im not sure if I was excited because I had lost my tooth, or if I was excited because I knew that because I had lost my tooth, the tooth fairy would be coming, resulting in me getting money. Thats all for now folks. Ive been sitting here for about 5 hours now. Time to take a break.