Shy Like Me

Shyness has a strange element of narcissism, a belief that how we look, how we perform, is truly important to other people. - André Dubuson

I've always been shy. It's as much a part of me as breathing. I was extremely shy as a child and when I grew into a young woman I lost a level of extreme shyness, but it is still here, just barely visible on the surface.

Growing up, I used to hate being shy and quiet. I felt like it was a bad quality or trait to possess. I always felt like I was missing out on something special by being reserved. I longed to be the life of the party, the belle of the ball or simply have the ability to capture the attention of a crowd of people who hung onto my every word. And of course, the boys that fascinated me the most were the ones who were popular and outgoing.

Over the years, people have mistaken my shyness for standoffishness, aloofness and snobbishness---it never crossed anyone's mind that I was simply quiet. My reserved nature made them unwilling to get to know me.

As a child, writing in my trusted diary and later journaling as an adult were my methods of expressing myself. What I couldn't express verbally, I expressed on paper. I still have the ability to place on paper my most passionate, personal thoughts and feelings...it always liberates me somehow.

I always thought it was strange that I was blessed with a good speaking voice (at least I've been told) and yet I was shy. All though school, my teachers and professors were constantly encouraging me to participate in public speaking competitions/events. And I complied and enjoyed them thoroughly. I even placed at these events. No one ever knew that those first three minutes in front of an audience were the most frightening for me. After that I was always okay. Even today that is one of the most difficult parts of being an author, the public speaking aspect. However, I find that after those first three minutes I'm fine and can talk to you from now to eternity about the joys and lows of being an author.

Even now I still consider myself somewhat shy or maybe just quiet is a better word, even though my family and friends would totally disagree. When I'm comfortable with a person my layers tend to fall away. There are actually two sides to me and depending on what role you play in my life, you may have only witnessed one or the other.

I've morphed into something quite curious. I often wonder how one can be shy, quiet, outspoken, opinionated and fiery. . . that's me all rolled up into one. If I'm passionate about something or someone, I can't be quiet---it's like I'm compelled to project it to the world. I'm very outspoken. I have strong opinions---we just have to agree to disagree, after we have debated the topic to exhaustion. Oh, I'm definitely fiery and sassy (just ask my husband) and sometimes I am too real for my own good. I tend to tell it like it is.

Yet when you break it all down, I'm usually the quiet, observant one who simply soaks up life and my surroundings like a sponge. And. . . get this, I've found that you don't have to be the life of the party to capture people's attention. I find there is something magnetic that draws people to a quiet aura; a pull that attracts them to my quiet spirit.

I finally realized that being shy is not so bad after all. Sometimes being shy helps you to see and appreciate the world through a whole nother set of eyes. Sometimes the best observations are made through silence, by simply listening.

Low-down, disgusting, heartless %$#$$#@

I've learned over the years that by being an emotional person, I internalize a lot of stories I hear on the news or read online, especially if they deal with children and child abuse. Children are my weakness and those stories hit me hard. To the core of my being.

Roughly a week ago, I read an online article and it is still with me---I can't seem to get the graphic images out of my head because I am so upset and angered by the incident. With me, the only way I can let bad feelings dissipate is to write about them; writing acts as my therapy.

Before I get started, let me preface this by saying that typically I don't curse. Trust me, I have to be really upset in order for me to start with the four-letter words. So readers beware and pardon my french!

I am so freaking angry right now. A Duke University associate professor, purposely adopted a five-year-old black boy, for the sole purpose of making him a sex slave. Yes, unfortunately you heard me right! This is one of the most disgusting, cruel, heartless and totally evil scenarios I've heard of in a very long time. It breaks my heart.

This person, if you care to call this piece of shit a human being, along with his gay partner, intentionally went out of their way to adopt a black child "because they are easier to adopt." This mother%%#@&% then proceeded to not only have sex with this baby, while his prestigious university community thought he was noble and grand for adopting this child, but broadcast his acts online to his filthy, disgusting pedophile friends.

The final act of evilness resulted in him being apprehended by the FBI when he attempted to have another man (an undercover agent) travel to North Carolina from out of state to have sex with this baby for money. Yes, he was a damn baby pimp!

A moment of silence while you let your brain comprehend what I just stated.

This perverted motherf%#@&* deserves everything and more that he receives when his ass is carted off to prison. Authorities need to burn the key and then bury it six-feet deep. I hope he is shown not one ounce of dignity or humanity. Disgusting, low-down, heartless %$#!!%&. How dare he use and abuse this child for his sick, perverted pleasure and then have the audacity to broadcast it across the Internet? Sick bastard! How dare he take the innocence and trust of this baby? How dare he warp this boy's precious body and soul for life? How dare he? How dare he not value human life?

I am sick and tired of these grown ass men messing with our children. They are so sick they will travel to other countries to have sex with children, willing to risk everything. Unbelievable! I sincerely believe that they can't be rehabilitated and it's useless, unproductive and too expensive to lock their perverted asses up. I suggest they all get the same punishment: a snip and cut, with a very big, sharp knife.

"No body wanted him anyway". Like he was doing that child a favor. I wish I could personally place him in a locked room with African American male prisoners and have them give him a big dose of street justice. On second thought, no amount of punishment would be horrific enough compared to how this monster has damaged this child's life forever.

His ass will truly rot in hell!

You Are Cordially Invited To My Pity Party!

No RSVP is necessary. Simply show up feeling defeated, discouraged and miserable with the world on your shoulders. Feel free to invite a friend or two. Misery loves company.

I'm knee deep in the midst of my very own pity party and I don't even know why. Or maybe I do know why and simply can't deal with it. I'm sure, as always, my impromptu pity party will be over and done with by tomorrow. As always, it starts with a bang and ends with a wimper.

I'm a moody person (wish to God I wasn't) and sometimes my bad moods simply slip up on me without any major announcement. I wish I could get some form of a warning: WARNING, WARNING, ELECTA! In just two days, you are going to get a doosey of a bad mood. Prepare yourself, hang on tight and hope for the best.

I feel. . . I feel like my life is in limbo. I also feel like a cry baby, like I wear my emotions on my sleeve and I admit, I feel totally powerless at times. I know where I want to go, I clearly know where I want to be, but the problem appears to be in the many paths to get there. It's so totally and utterly frustrating to feel you know your divine destiny and yet can't quite complete the mission.

I consider myself one of the most positive people I know. 95% of the time I count my blessings, give praises to God for my life, health and strength and I'm more than appreciative of the people, family and friends, in my life. I consider myself divinely favored.

The other 5% is where my problems begin and end. I feel like I'm my own worse critic and I never give myself enough credit or praise for the accomplishments in my life. I try not to compare my current situation with others because most of the time, 95% of the time, I realize I'm exactly where I'm suppose to be at the moment. What's meant for me is meant for me and no one else. And the absoulute beauty is that no one can change that. It is said, it is written, it is done.

However, lately I've wanted to speed up the process and arrive at my destination. And since I haven't (arrived) I come away frustrated and my faith dims. I begin to question my destiny and when I question that, I question who I am as a person. I feel lost and off balance. Instead of being positive and uplifting, doubt and fear set in. . . the twins of destruction.

I know for a fact how powerful our words and our thoughts are. We should use our words to change our situations and call the things that aren't as if they are. I truly believe that with all I know. However, sometimes I'm weak and I get tired of struggling and hoping and striving and taking three steps forward only to take one backwards.

I just want to arrive! Serve! Give back! Make a difference! Live out my destiny!

Is that asking too much?