family

I’m pissed off today… so please bare with me because I have got to get this off my chest.

I began blogging years ago when it first came out. I was over at Dairyland and then I moved on to many other services including Typepad and Blogger. In the beginning I would talk about all kinds of random things, maybe updating with something once a month. Nothing truly of significance.

About five years ago I began documenting my struggles with infertility. It was a very hard time for me, and no one in my immediate circle could relate to what I was going through. I quickly grew tired of the “it will happen soon”, “don’t stop believing” crap that was being tossed at me almost on a daily basis. My blog allowed me the opportunity to vent rather anonymously about everything I was dealing with. The drugs, the poking, the prodding, the broken friendships, the jealousy and rage I felt… everything I could not just say to those around me.

Eventually, I began developing relationships with people online. We grew close, exchanged emails and phone numbers. I began opening myself up more… telling more about who I was… and then the attacks came. I crossed the line and revealed I was adopted. Not just adopted, but happily adopted. I loved my parents and was ecstatic that they had chosen me, and raised me. On top of that, as an infertile woman, I too would eventually adopt.

The emails and letters of hatred I received became too much, and I finally had to let it go. I quit the site and stopped updating there, let friendships fall to the wayside and did my best to move on with life.

Since then I have had other blogs… I have one dealing with my fat ass and my desire to lose the “fat” part off of it, another is about my photography, and then there is this one… and a few that are somewhere about something I have forgotten about.

Now, with that said, I am sure you noticed that the common factor about all my blogs has been me. I talk about my issues, my work, my life, my feelings. I do not sit and write about Tom’s day or how Joanie is enjoying her pizza.

These blogs are about me. Me and only me.

This blog is not about:

• Ashley
• Brendan
• Tom
• Dick
• Harry
• Laura
• Meghan
• Chris
• Jane
• Kevin
• Paul
• Ange
• Tito
• Any brothers or sisters
• My cousins
• My relatives
• Mom or Dad
• My neighbors
• The cashier at the Wal-Mart
• Nosey people named Sharon
• The mailman
• RoRo and C.W.
• My BFF’s
• My girls
• You

Was that list clear enough? Of course, people do get mentioned. That’s only natural. But I have always respected my friends and family enough to not do personal shout outs. Just because I choose to blab all over the world that I am MONIQUE doesn’t mean they want me to say who they are. That’s common sense. And of course I know that if you know me you will know who my husband is… DUH.  

So, if you are reading this, and are offended because I am not talking enough about your son, your kids, your brother, your uncle, your sisters cousins friend who she knew in high school then oh well. Stop friggin reading it. And stop creating drama where none is needed because you are an attention whore.

If I wanted to blog about family life my blog would called Blogging The Castro’s, not Blogging Monique Renae.

I honestly try to make an effort everyday to post something on my blog. Sadly, I fail at it miserably. I do think about it several times a day and then by the time I get home from work, I’m just like blah. I usually leave for work around 7:30 in the morning and don’t get home until 6:30 or 7. And that’s only if I head straight home.

My after work time usually consists of me answering emails, drooling over new things I want from Amazon.com, checking on other sites I maintain, updating my Flickr account and getting my daily fix from the other blogs I try and read everyday. After I do all that, I’m usually really tired and convince myself that I can post something in the morning. Clearly that never happens. However, I am committed to doing better. I have an awesome group of readers who keep coming back and me only updating every 2-3 days isn’t fair to them.

In other life news, I have been talking to the ex regularly. Not because I want something to happen - because I don’t! - but because even though he was a big loser back then, he’s not necessarily a loser now. (Haha.) I will admit he is a big jerk now, who is very very aggressive but sadly for him I am not that same girl I was all those years ago. On a positive note he is slowly realizing it.

That leads to another bit of news, The girl he got pregnant, and then married, and then had a son with had a bad asthma attack a few days ago. She is now in a coma after her lung collapsed. It’s all very sad. They say she is now brain dead. She was my age. The ex arrived there this morning and they are now preparing to take her off of life support. It’s so strange how I had not heard of her in all these years, and then the ex pops up out of nowhere, and we are discussing her, and all of these feelings come to surface only for her to pass away a few weeks later. Parts of me feel so guilty.

Shortly after I heard all that, I got word that my cousin was sick and in the hospital with a possible brain tumor. Today I’m going to call around and get some more information. I have to say, this is one thing about being distant from family that gets to me. I’m usually the last to know just about everything. If it weren’t for my mother, I’d be completely in the dark.

Anyway…

Something else that’s kind of newsworthy is that I braved all my insane neurotic body dysmorphic issues and joined 365 Days on Flickr. I absolutely hate having my picture taken, and with this group you have to take a picture of yourself every day for a whole year. You can take a picture of anything, as long as its YOU. So, a finger or toe would work. However, I am so determined to “get over myself” and take these pictures. I spend what feels like hours overanalyzing every single shot, hating every single one, pointing out every imperfection… it’s torture!! I’m on day 10, and I probably have taken over 500 hundred pictures of my goofy face. I’m trying really hard to fight the urge to take a picture of my pinky. Of course, knowing me, I’d find something wrong with that.

Now, do not confuse my utter hatred of pictures of myself as me not having self confidence because I have that coming out of every pore. No one can now or ever tell me that I’m not a badass. However, I don’t like how my badassness looks on camera.