Still Figurin' Out Who I Think I Am

This one's about more forgetting, July, and three books.

30DBC PROMPT: "Serial madness. Write everything."

Good afternoon, kind readers! Welcome to the second entry of this as-of-yet untitled new blog creation. It sucks when you've written yourself out of room and your blog becomes measured not in the number of entries or views or ratings, but in megabytes. Nothing like seeing your words reduced, quantified and capped as a commodity.

So this serial prompt thing, anyway...what a racket! I'm still as confused as ever, and I don't think I have any stories in my life that merit taking up three entire entries. I guess I'll just continue along the same thread of forgetting, and hope I can come up with something worth both yours and my while.

Anyone else out there languishing in the irony that is "write everything" and "didn't think I'd forget"? I've written nearly 1,000 blog entries for WDC, and y'all know I don't like to do things half-assed. I've forgotten more blog entries than some of you have actually written (and that's not a knock at all toward anyone...it's just a fact).

That being said, there's no direction to the serial portion of my "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS"  entries. Y'all know how stupid long my entries are; I don't think there's a math formula available to calculate what or how many blogs I'd need to write everything. We'd be here for a ridiculous binge/purge of my writing, and nobody's ready for that (especially me). And with that in mind, I'm gonna gracefully move on because I have nothing more to add today and I'll likely need the few extra megabytes I'm saving now for when there's a real prompt to write for.

BCF PROMPT: "What is your favorite month or months of the year? Write a myth about it."

I'm a straight-up summer baby; I may have even used those exact words before. July's the month that gave me life into this world, and I stayed true to form by waiting up until its very last day to make my initial appearance on planet Earth. Even in the womb, I was probably dreading the day of my birth because I was comfortable where I'd been the previous nine months, and the thought of being born on the first of the month was probably scarier than being born at all. It's bad enough that because my last name starts with "A" I was typically first in line for too many things growing up, and being first means your exposed to so many things without having the benefit of seeing someone else go before you. I blame my dad for that...why couldn't his last name start with a "K" or an "M"? Hell, I'd even settle for a "D". I can't fault my mom, who actually moved down the seating chart when she took my dad's last name because her maiden name begins with "Ad", and I'm stuck with "Ai"...although the reason I was born at the end of the month was probably because she served me an eviction notice as a non-rent paying fetus and needed to transition out so I could get on the legal bankroll, or something (just playin' Mom, in case you read this and think I have ill will of some sort for being born).

But yeah, I'm hardcore summer all the way. Mainly because I can't stand winter and snow and cold and no. I'm a Zodiac Leo and I'm most of what you've heard about it, but I still need to be experienced to be believed. I'm a land creature and a born leader. I rule fairly and openly...the king of the jungle. Fiercely protective, occasionally very productive, and I know my rights so I'll raise my voice only when it needs to be raised...because the quiet ones only speak up when they have something important that needs to be heard. You can put that on my tombstone.

Here's a myth for you that I just created: Every day in July is a freakin' party. So many people celebrate whatever 'cuz hey, Summer. Maybe they have kids in school and it sucks holding outdoor events in snowstorms, or it's just easier to get together when the sun shines and optimism reigns. Things are always better when it's sunny, ya heard? Well, no. July should be the party month, but that would require Hallmark revamping their entire calendar around my birthday, and that should not be a big deal ever. People asking me when my birthday is and me telling them it's in July is like asking where I'm from...if I say NY, they tend to assume NYC because that's New York even though Buffalo is on the exact opposite end of the state, and the 31st is that much farther away from the 1st. So when the calendar hits July I don't run around screaming "It's my birthday!!", but maybe I should.

And here's where I go into my yearly spiel about birthdays...if everyone treated people the same every day of the year as they do on their birthdays, we'd be a much happier society. I'm not sayin' we need cake daily (but some might argue with me that maybe...), but just the niceties you tend to expend on people under the auspices of "It's their birthday", well, y'all can do that in real life and in real time. Little shit goes a long way, ya know? It doesn't take much to make people feel special...just a kind word or act of gratitude is all. Doesn't take much to make someone feel important, so try it out soon...you might like it.

MUSICAL BREAK!!

The Tragically Hip covering their fellow Canadian Gordon Lightfoot singing about a cursed day in North American history. For the longest time I never knew the gist of the song; I'd always made the correlation that it was about me and my struggle. I knew nothing of Detroit; I just took a Sharpie to every calendar I saw and blacked out July 31st, because I don't need the reminder that I'm getting older.

"The printing press is turning and the news is quickly flashed
And you read your morning paper and you sip your cup of tea
And you wonder just in passing is it him or is it me?"
Lyrics.  

THE DAILY BOX SCORE:

"Name 3 books that made your childhood a happier place."

I remember going to my grandmother's house on Sundays when I was a kid, and immersing myself in the kid lit she had on a bookshelf. It was full of books my mom, aunt and uncle grew up on...ragged copies of Dr. Seuss and Curious George. Long before I discovered cable TV, those were the ends to my means on a Sunday afternoon. Green Eggs And Ham was my joint back then, and who doesn't love a monkey getting into trouble? If ever I was in a situation where I had to give a book as a gift to a little kid, those were my go-to selections. You can't go wrong there.

As I got slightly older though, I drifted over to Judy Blume and Tales Of A Fourth Grade Nothing  , taking in the exploits of Fudge. It almost felt like a rite of passage reading those books. I also gravitated to The Hardy Boys, Encyclopedia Brown, and Choose Your Own Adventure titles. Musta been the "thirst for knowledge" thing kickin' in.

Parents, start your kids off young with the reading thing (or puttin' 'em on ice skates; same thing)...they'll take it with 'em the rest of their lives, and they'll be better off for it (even if they renounce it in their twenties...they'll come back).

How about this? "Note: Well, it's out now with Jack's interview,..."? For all y'all that haven't been members of the great WDC community as long as I've been, it's a big deal to now have faces behind the names of The StoryMaster and The StoryMistress . I'm not frontin'...it's been life-changing for me to be able to have an opportunity to take my words out of a notebook and put them someplace where an entire world can see them. I don't even know what life would've been like without the care, love, appreciation and dedication those two have created for all of us. I'm grateful times infinity, and just seeing a cute pic of the two of them is the peanut butter topping of the hot fudge sundae WDC is.

Your boy Harry Potter loves Buffalo, and Jimmy Kimmel has declared there will be a war on Canada   if the Bills move to Toronto. I love my Canadian friends, but you can't take my football team. Ever. I've stopped listening to every damn news release about the whole thing, because it's not gonna be settled 'til October anyway. But Jon Bon Jovi can eat a dick kielbasa straight up if he thinks he'll be owning this team soon, in my town, where him and his music is pretty much banned from.

And speaking of football, there's a new entry up from my favorite off-site blog over at The Broad's Side  . Ladies, the NFL hates you. Wife beaters are the new currency, apparently...not drugs or other bad decisions. Sending the wrong message...way to go about "defending the shield", Mr. Goodell.

Alright...so I'm done here today, which is great because I'm starving and I can't eat and blog at the same time (coordination problems). Snack time...and then the rest of the day is mine. Peace, why can't we all be brothers, and GOODNIGHT NOW!!