Blogging virgin's intro and rediscovery...

Hola!

Okay that is about the extent of my Spanish speaking ability...which is sad because I've lived in Texas my entire life...oh wait! "Donde es el bano, por favor?" AH HAH! At least I'll be able to find a place to pee if ever randomly stranded in Mexico, or the west side of Houston...

Everyone has some sort of outlet, right? Whether it be reading, dancing, running, yoga, lifting weights, hiking, biking, rock climing, shopping, cooking, competitive sports, generally actin' a fool, drinking, recreational substances, locking yourself in a windowless room with no sound, everyone has something they turn to in times of overwhelment (is that a word?) and the need to bring it back to the semi-sane level. And on a side-note, please don't share your outlet with me if it is pushing the limits of kinky and/or just plain weird...whatever floats your boat needs to stay at the dock and away from the harbor.

Personally, I am rediscovering one of my favorite pastimes and outlets...free-style writing. As a generally misunderstood yet insightful kid, writing was always something in which I academically excelled, but also a way to put into words what was screaming bloody-murder in my head. The "why's", "wth's?!", "huh's?" "YAY's!!", "hahahah's!!", "this is bull%$#@'s!", "thank you Lord in Heaven's!", "well that was stupid of me's", "leave me alone's", "can I JUST be ME's?!?!", "these people are nuts's", "oh no's...", and so on and so forths of my existance filled up pages and pages in countless diaries and journals I kept just to a.) keep my sanity, and b.) sort out my thoughts and talk myself through  things. To me, if it was written down in black and white, the important details and practical solutions became much more obvious. And trust me, when you are halfway decent at writing in a rural East Texas town, it gets noticed. Lets just say that my hometown high school hasn't been an academically recognized campus, must less acceptable, by the Texas Education Agency in ooooohhh about eight to ten years...sad...Gov. Ricky Perry is a genius (*gag*) by the way, just sayin'...beyond that I had multiple recognitions and awards for creative writing, sailed through research papers and written projects for high school AP English, received top scores on reading/writing portions of both SAT and ACT (don't ask about the math, it wasn't pretty), became an editor and regular column writer for my community college newspaper staff, earned a minor in Journalism, yady yady yada...sounds greater and fancier than it really is, in general I just wanted to write. But at this point I feel like I should step back and elaborate more on the "About Me" section of this blog...specifically on where I came from. I must say this as a disclaimer: I am NOT making fun of my hometown, I am simply stating the obvious. That rinky-dink town and the people in it taught me to keep an open mind, appreciate life, love, family, friends, core values, pride in my state, history, good barbeque, and that there is indeed a bigger world out there. So for all former classmates/current residents that are prepared to be offended, get over it and laugh with me because you know it's all true. And if anyone does happen to take offense, whatever, that's their own fault. I won't apologize for their shortcomings and lack of sense of humor (never have for that matter), and I'll see them at the reunion next summer. *smug, cheshire-cat grin* Okay...*deep breath*, and GO:

I was born and raised in a conservative, old oil-boom town in North East Texas of about 11,000 people, where everybody knew everybody and their momma/daddy/granny/dog/cat/goldfish and all the business that goes along with it. If you have ever driven East on I-20 from DFW, you have probably blinked and missed driving through it. Friday night high-school football is more than just a game, it is literally a way of life. City police officers knew pretty much everyone by face and name (mainly because they grew up there too), and depending on whether you were liked or not, you could get out of a lot of tickets. (No Mom & Dad I promise I do NOT know this from personal experience...teehee) My avid NRA member Dad once carried his handgun on campus, in his pocket (he's got a CHL and better aim than a military sniper, calm down) because he had received several serious threats on his life from a really "disturbed" student. He told the officer that patrolled the school what he had, Officer *LOUD COUGH* replied "Okay Don, be careful and let me know if you need backup." And that was the end of that. See what you can get away with?? You see the same people at bars and pasture parties as you do in (Baptist) church pews on Sunday morning. Mainstream chain restaurants included Sonic, McDonalds and Whataburger, and the one (yes, singular) movie theatre has (and still has) only four screens. But wait, they now have a Chilis?! Whoopteedoodah...although Chili's does have a fantastic new natural margarita, OMG...anyway...The mayor has probably at one point been either your plumber, school teacher and/or principal, burger joint owner, or even minister. Excuse me, "preacher" as we call it...Cowtipping is an actual late-night activity, and you're hard-pressed to find a vehicle that doesn't a.) have a v-8 engine/lift-kit/cattle-guard combo, and b.) some sort of personalized bumper or window sticker (Brent #8, Cheerleader Mom, Captain Amy Lynn, 'Yeah, it's a hemi', you get the idea). Most womens' hair is big/teased and dyed three or more colors (one of the colors is always blonde), makeup is caked on, jeans are at least a size too small, and a staple in the jewelry collection is an overly-chunky turquoise cross necklace. Big hair seriously irks me, I have a whole tangent on just that subject. I just can't wrap my head around WHY a self-respecting woman wants her hair to look like a a combo of a squirrel attack/eletrocution?! The pick and Aqua-Net are not your friends ladies, put them down and walk alway slowly...If the image of Dolly Parton came to mind, you're not that far off. Ever been the website "People of Wal-Mart"? Yeah...welcome to southern small-town America...Girls typically do one of four things after high school: have babies/get married (in that order), get married period, go to the local community college for a year before working full-time as a secretary or bank teller, and the "smart" ones go to college.

Luckily I had enough sense and self-respect to not sell myself short, along with a tough and interesting support system at home. To explain what it was like growing up with my immediate family will require multiple, completely seperate posts...no really, you will want a full explanation of these wonderfully complex and crazy people I hold so near and dear to my heart. To gain a better understanding of them is to get a clear, analyzed, Freud-like diagnosis of how I turned out the way I did. But in the mean time I will do my best with the "tell me about your childhood" part of Dr. Freud's analysis...

I grew up outside of the city limits of my hometown, in the "country" if you will, with two educator parents and *ahem* "creative" older sister. My best friend from high school compared the scenic drive to our house to "the forest on the Blair Witch Project." I have to admit, it is scary as hell driving that county road after dark. You saw roadkill of every sort: squirrels, snakes, armadillos, deer, coyotoes, buzzards that attempted to eat previously listed deceased critters, huge bullfrogs, turtles, and the occasional stray cat or dog that people cold-heartidly dump on the side of the road, ect. (I'm a dog lover, it breaks my heart) Our basic 3-bedroom brick house sat on about an acre and a half, across the street from a wealthy cattle owner, and in a close-knit neighborhood of families and friends. I had no concept of playing Nintendo or watching Nickelodeon, becase I was too busy with the other neighborhood kids riding bikes, building forts, riding horses, playing with the dogs, digging for bugs and worms, rescuing baby birds, swimming, catching frogs and toads, and just played outside in general. Saying that my mom drenched me with the water hose a time or five is not a far-fetched statement. Despite the country roots and unbringing, I was always a little different. My folks are very educated and interesting people, and the combo of the two sets of genes ended up being more a tossup than anything when they had me. It was like the most random traits from both of them were thrown together with optimistic hopes they would turn out okay, kind of like my first attempts at cooking...although I like to think I turned out better than burnt hamburger helper? Granted Mom said that I was the "easy" kid, but I was also a handful when it came to opening my big fat mouth. (and for anyone who has been around me after a couple drinks, it has caused quite a few potential fights...hey, fat girls shouldn't wear mini-skirts and flaunt around like they're the cat's meow...everyone knows it and thinks it, I just happen to be the one to speak the truth...go home and change honey, and stop being in denial) On more than multiple occasions, I would usually ask "too" many questions just to figure out a person...I find this hilarious! I was always an (annoyingly) inquisitve child, and if it didn't make sense in my head, it was pretty certain that said plan would not follow through....which still gets me in trouble to this day. I like to think that my initial conception was a fun way to start out...after a night out of tequila sunrises, nine months later the world was graced by my presence. Needless to say, I was a surprise! ANYhoo...my dad is a very logical, black-and-white thinker with a great sense of humor, short-temper, and is a (too) proud conservative republican. I won't hold that against him, only because he's my Daddy and my hero! He's the product of a truck-driver and teacher's aid, grew up dirt-poor, had three older brothers, and worked his fingers to the bone for literally everything he's had. You will never meet another man that is as set in his ways as my dad. Frighteningly good at math (algebra, geometry, statistics, trig, calculus, all of it), a natural athlete, but also a true Redneck at heart...and sometimes in real life. My mom...oh Mother dearest...is a stunningly beautiful, intellegent, loving, absent-minded, stubborn, kind-hearted firecracker. She demands your respect everywhere she goes, whether you want to give it to her or not. I love that about her, and I like to think she passed that trait onto me and my sister. Mom had this "look" that would strike instant fear in your heart and make you stop DEAD in your tracks...*shudder*...She grew up the oldest, and only girl, with two younger brothers, to a teacher/counselor and saavy businessman. Mom paid her way through college as a cheerleader and beauty queen (pardon, "scholarship program" winner) with her million-dollar smile, natural grace, singing voice of an angel (hence where the sister got her talent) and the uncanny ability to be a strong precense when speaking. She worked as a teacher and libririan for years until retiring a few years ago. Avid reader, slowest driver in the left-hand lane, antique restorer, has absolutely NO thought-to-mouth filter, and (rightfully so) a b*%$# on wheels if you make her angry. She has been through so much in her lifetime, has a heart of gold and the no-nonsense state of mind to prove it. Mom and Dad both grew up in my hometown, went off, and then came back to settle down. Mom's younger brother was actually Dad's childhood best friend, and he has been in love with her since day one. When I say best friend, I mean best friend. Dad had his own stocking at Mom's house during Christmas time. It took her a few extra years (15+) to realize that he wasn't the repulsive little scrub friend of her brother's, and that they were actually pretty perfect for each other. And to wrap it up, my lovely sister: Jena, Jena Jena...blonde-haired, blue-eyed bombshell standing at 5'10" with a sharp wit, quirky sense of humor, and a smile that will bring a grown man to his knees. (Mom's genetics were good to us) Currently she is a licensed professional counselor (us H-girls pride ourselves on being educated) for a retirement hospital, and emerging Texas-country music artist with a killer voice and range. (Shamless plug: find Jena Walker on Amazon.com, iTunes, and of course her website: www.jenawalker.com) Growing up with her was always, ummm, interesting...even after 30+ years and a recent official diagnosis, Mom was in denial that Jena was over the left-field-fence ADD. It was always thought that she was just absent-minded, *ahem* creative, and just plain ditzy. Which she still is even on medication, but that's not the point...again full descriptions will come in later posts, but this was the girl who put her shoes in the microwave and tried to put the frozen pizza on as a shoe...I am not joking, serious as a heart attack. That is just a small sample of many years of odd/random antics. Polar opposite siblings was the understatement of the century...

In a small town of only so many people and families, it is extremely difficult to do ANYTHING without someone knowing your entire family history, much less be an individual. Seriously, you have no idea...there are some stories I have heard about my dad that have scarred me for life and would have been a lot better off not knowing. And it really doesn't help when your *ahem* "creative" and stupidly talented older sister is five years older than you, and you both went to the SAME high school, and even the SAME colleges. Did I intentionally follow in her footsteps? Nope, it just worked out that way. Not to mention I was offered really good scholarships and we pursued different majors...I felt like I had a lot of talent in different areas (drill-team, theatre, orchestra, national honor society, AP student, prom comittee, youth for christ, drug-free student group campaign, ect. ect.) compared to my parents and sibling, but all I was ever known for was usually associated back to them:

"Oh you're Coach H's daughter? You must be awesome at math!" (not on your life buddy, totally bypassed that end of the gene pool, and here's some advice: NEVER assume), "Jana is your mother? It shows! You are so pretty with her green eyes and smile, are you in pagents too?" (yes I am a spitting image of my mother, and that was her means of paying for college since she was on her own, but are you friggin kidding me?? Sorry, I have pride), "Jena is your sister? Can you sing like her? I just loved to hear her sing when she was in school, especially the national anthem!" (yes, no, and pin a rose on your nose...yes she's an obnoxiously amazing singer and we are very proud of her, thank you Captain Obvious) What added to the frustration was the fact that every cousin and their dog that I had also went to the same high school: "You're Anna's cousin right? Wasn't she saludictorian? Karl is her brother, I loved to hear him play the piano. He was an honor graduate wasn't he? You H's are so smart!" (please don't "rat-king" the cousins, we are all very different people) "Lisa is the band drum major right, are you in the band too?" (no, orchestra, theatre and drill-team thanks, but I guess that makes me less cool since you didn't know that and she's a year behind me...by the way, I'm a friggin decorated dance/drill-team officer and my name gets called out at football games too, jackhole) , "Bret is so talented in drafting, he should be an architect!" (Captain Obvious, didn't I just run into you?), "Brittany is so pretty, she looks a lot like Jena! Most people think that they're sisters and you and Lisa are sisters! Isn't she in drill-team? " (yes she is in drill-team, again so am I...I'm one of the ones in white in the friggin front...and just because some girls are brunette and some are blonde doesn't mean they should be sisters...that would mean I have millions of "should be sisters" in the US alone...my sister is blonde, I am brunette, we are actual genetically linked/blood-related sisters with absolutely NO doubt of where we come from...you are a class a moron, get over yourself) *Sigh*...genuine sympathy goes out to cousins Lisa and Brittany, who were one and two years behind me. They were probably much better and tolerating the lineage comparison, but being hardly ever taken seriously as my own person really bothered me to the core. So much in fact, that by the time my senior year rolled around I was in a constant state of misery. Yeah yeah, what average teenager isn't constantly depressed? But when you grow up with/see/talk to/deal with the same close-minded people and small-town gossip (that doesn't even matter in the grand scheme of things) on a daily basis, and you're not that fond of it all to begin with, it wears on you. I was always looking at the bigger picture (not the theoretical polaroid that constantly glared me in the face) and had dreams of just pursuing something that only I would be know for. I love my family, very proud of their accomplishments, but I was just me and felt like not that many people really noticed. Who knows, maybe your legacy lives on after you've go onto bigger and better things?

I really don't have that many complaints about this part, although it didn't always have its perks, but what brought the family association level from from a seven to a ten was the fact that Dad worked at my hometown high school. Yes, all my high school years were spent in Dad's shadow and corner of his eye. The perks I liked was a reserved spot in the teachers parking lot (right by the school and next to my dad, despite Coach Banks objections...yeah, you didn't like YOUR car being towed HUH Banks?! How you like THEM apples?!), I could pretty much come and go as I pleased with no hall pass, and my last name was never mispelled. (before I got married/changed my name/moved away, it was a nightmare...I almost didn't get a college scholarship because the dumb lady mispelled it...kudos to her) I was a good kid and student, involved in a lot of groups/activities/my church (yet I still got asked if I could sing like my sister, or was in the band like my cousin, thanks for noticing my individuality people), didn't get in trouble (I.E. smart enough not to get caught), and just avoided the small town teenage drama as much as I could (you want to talk about 'Mean Girls', do I ever have some stories from high school...), but there was never any doubt that he was only a short walk-down-the-hall away...for me or for my teachers. Bless Dad's heart though, the only teachers he really saw concerning me were some of my math and chemistry teachers...again, this is where I say NEVER assume. Do letters and numbers really, like really need to go togther? I'm a writer and speaker, when in the hell am I ever going to need to balance chemical equations in my profession or lifetime? (frankly I could care less what the formulated breakdown of sodium chloride may or may not be, all I know is that it's salt and it tastes wonderful on my french fries) Poor Dad, he accepted the concept a long time ago that math and chemistry/physics just flew about ten feet over my head. However, is everyone able to write a 35-page research paper for a 6-week, university-senior-level independent study on interpersonal and non-verbal behavioral interactions, earn an A+, AND get a publishing credit for a professors research, as an undergraduate? I think not, and I take my accomplishments where I can get them.

As said earlier I was generally misunderstood as a kid, mainly because I would never partake in something just because everyone else was doing it. And the previously listed factors didn't help my burning desire to be taken seriously, or at least noticed, as an individual and not associated to another person in my family. People knew me because of the family association, and some fellow classmates knew/liked me through being involved in so much stuff, but I was never "popular" by any means. In all fairness, popularity isn't everything and doesn't deserve reward just for the hell of it. But the one factor that always stood out and I could never grasp and logically conceive was the overall attitude, gossip and D-R-A-M-A of my hometown. The details of it are so tedious and complex that you really have to know all the big-whigs and "families" of my hometown to understand why people constantly had their panties in a wad. I never had the desire to get involved in any of it, just because it was all so ridiculous and frankly exhausting to keep up with it all. My view is that people are entitled to do whatever they want, whenever they want, as long as they aren't harming themselves or anyone around them. What they do is their business and their's only. And privacy? Psshhhh, guuuurl please...keeping noses out of other people's business is a completely foreign concept in that town. If there's a "scandal" on Tuesday, you bet your life that everyone (that 'matters' *thumbing of the nose*) will know about it by Thursday. Yes we saw the Baptist preacher leaving the liquor store, but if the man wants a good glass of bourbon to calm his nerves every once in a while, leave him be alright?!! Benjamin Franklin said it best: "God created beer because he wanted us to be happy." Now if he's drunk as a skunk and a hot mess at the pulpit Sunday morning, gives the congregation the finger, then proceeds to drive his car into the Mercer's pond before swimming out and saying God does not exist and he's renouncing his faith, then you can be concerned. "He who is without sin cast the first stone." John 8:7. Honestly 99.99999% of the time, the people spreading the gossip and drama are those who know nothing outside of the town, the history, and the people in it.

In the end I have to say this: not everyone from my hometown fits in this narrow-minded, big-haired, clown-faced, gossiping, all-in-all insane mold. Numerous people I knew growing up have gone onto great and wonderful things, some came back to our hometown and settled to raise their families, some are off fighting wars, researching for a cancer foundation, freelance screenplay writing in Los Angeles, so on and so forth. One of my closest girl-friends to this day came from the same town, graduated college, got married, and is now working and living in Oklahoma City while her husband finishes his time in the Air Force. To the ones who never left, but are happy, I say good for you...but its definitely not for everyone. Life happens, and you make the best of what it has to offer you. Life just happen to hand me a deeper insight to myself and an opportunity to grow as a person and in my carrer outside of the traditional and familiar. When I look around and see all the blessings in my life, I wouldn't change any of my experiences for anything in the world. There is always a lesson to be learned, in all walks and events of life. The main lesson I learned from that town and it's people is that you can indeed be your own person, and be happy, but you have to make that decision on your own. No one else can make it for you. Pennies for your thoughts :)