Just Me

For those of you that know me well know that I am not exactly what you would call conventional. I speak up when lots of times I should keep my mouth shut (though this has improved with age, or I have simply become better at determining who is worth my effort and who is not.), I say things that at times are inappropriate, I am loud, always loud, occasionally extremely loud. I was born loud. I thought that I was in charge from the day I came out of my mother’s womb.

Some people sum it up as crazy. Wild and crazy. Free spirited. Etc.

I have always been told as long as I can remember that I have an old soul. With the creaking bones to prove it. And the wrinkled hands. My bones have popped and cracked since I was eight. I remember my Granny putting her ear against my back in order to hear my shoulder blades grind and creak. She was fascinated. I simply explained, “They always do that.” And they still do.

When I lived in Missouri they explained me by saying, “She is from California.”

When I lived in California they explained me by saying, “She is from the city.”

And when I lived in the city there just simply was not an explanation for me. OR excuse. Depending on your point of view.

 And now I am back in the small town California again. Life is a circle.

Old Soul + Red Hair + Chandler Temper + a dash of Comanche blood + quite a bit of Scots + being jerked up around a posse of linehands = plain ol’ me.

Plain ol’ me frequently pisses people off by just being myself.  There was a point in my life that I had slowly tweaked myself to accommodate other people in my life. This was a very long and slow process that took many years. When I realized what I had done to myself I swore I would never let it happen again. It took some time to find myself again after that. Not a fun search.

I realized as of late that I have done a few tweaks lately. This coincides with myself unhappiness. I become not happy with myself because I know at some level that I am betraying myself. I punish myself. I gain 12 pounds. I become grumpy. I can not be happy to all the loved people in my life if I am not happy with myself.

This is it self. Cut the shit.

I am me. I am a lot of things. But most of all I am me.

I am loud. I am crafty – in the artsy kind of way. I like to drink. I haven’t always liked to drink and have gone years without drinking at times simply because I didn’t want to. But Now I like to have a drink. Or four when the occasion calls for it (like Tuesdays). I hate whiskey. I hate the smell of whiskey. I like tattoos. I would like to have more tattoos and someday might. I love spicy food. I like loud music. Really loud music. I like to dance. I like to garden. I have a potty mouth. I like dirty jokes. I like horror movies. I like blood and guts. I have no problem with talking about gross things while I’m eating. Or when other people are eating. I like yoga. I like sci-fi. I am sarcastic. The smell of Old Spice makes me want to vomit. I like myself when I am skinny enough that my doctor doesn’t like it. I usually have to work on putting on some weight (my doctor is really happy now). I like roller derby. (Right here is when I feel the urge to break into a Don Williams song. “I like little baby ducks, big pick up trucks…”) I like heavy metal. I like Don Williams. I like frogs singing. I like city lights. I like a dance floor that is so crowed and sweaty that you don’t know who you are dancing with. I like seeing all the stars from a mountain top. I am a trivia junkey. I like smoky bars and family picnics. I like bluegrass and hearing my Granny sing. I like stripper height high heels. I LOVE high heels in general. I change my hair on a whim. Short…long…roll the dice. I like Tejano music. I like hot weather. I am a nudist at heart (12 pounds or not). I like chewing someone’s ass off if I am in the right. I love a good fight period. (What can I say? We are being honest here right?) I like to watch hockey because the players beat the crap out of each other. I believe in the right bare arms. I never cut myself any slack. I make to-do lists on a compulsive level. Did I mention I have a high volume level?

I can go on forever.

Anyway.

I am me. Even if it pisses people off. I guess the moral of this story is; in order for me to be my true self, that is abrasive to others.

All I have to say is…they are not alone. Maybe we should start a ‘Dealing with Shannon’ support group. I am sure that there are a lot of unspoken members out there in the masses.

In the words of one of my childhood heroes.

“I am what I am and that’s all that I am. I am…………..Shannon.”

Advertisements

4 Comments

  1. Aunt Beth said,

    May 18, 2012 at 5:38 AM

    I love you just the way you are!

  2. GRANNY said,

    May 18, 2012 at 9:18 AM

    YOU ARE A WALKING CONTRADICTION: DON WILLIAMS —–AND —-HEAVY METAL!!!! THAT DOESN’T GO TOGETHER AT ALL! I’M GLAD YOU LIKE YOUR GRANNY’S SINGING. SHE IS VERY FLATTERED. SHE WILL DO SOME MORE TONIGHT AT THE JAM SESSION. WISH YOU COULD BE HERE.
    HONEY, IN THIS LATEST “LET IT ALL HANG OUT” ESSAY, I SEE YOUR MOTHER, YOUR DAD, YOUR GRANDAD AND A LITTLE BIT OF YOUR GRANNY, TOO. WE ARE ALL INDIVIDUALS AND THOUGH MOST OF US TRY TO BE BETTER THAN WE REALLY ARE, SOME PEOPLE GO CRAZY WITH THE TRYING. WE LOVE YOU, NO MATTER WHAT. BUT I DON’T UNDERSTAND YOUR TASTE IN MUSIC, DARLIN’. TEE-HEE.

  3. Claudia said,

    May 18, 2012 at 5:09 PM

    I’m impressed, you know who you are!!! I’m 64 and still don’t know who I am. And you do have an ole soul, that’s why you know who you are.

  4. Vic said,

    May 21, 2012 at 7:29 AM

    Well, honey, we knew that and we still love you……or maybe that’s WHY we love you ! Either way, you say it best.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: