The 100th post extravaganza!!!

Okay, not really.

But, hey 100 posts since November! Pretty cool, eh?

I suppose I should use this post to reflect. Since deciding to make a blog, I've gotten to practice my writing. I've written nearly every day, and I've been able to write about what *I* want to write about, even if it's just something stupid like an MTV program. I've been able to use humor and people have actually understood it and sometimes even liked it. Heck, I even got a really cool award thanks to Mrs. CPA, which made me ridiculously happy.

Most of all, though, I've "met" so many people who are funny, kind, bright, entertaining, and just plain wonderful.

It's not an easy thing, to write honestly. There have been times when I have written an enormous post and deleted it. Because it felt good to write it, and to get it out, but it wouldn't feel good to have it out there forever. As hard as it is to believe, I still do have some secrets that I keep, because it just hurts to much to let them go.

It gets easier, though. With every post, it is easier.

I took a class my last semester of college (last fall) and in the class we had to do a lot of writing. A LOT of writing. As usual, the first assignment of the course was to write about yourself and your life; your hopes, dreams, whatever.

This was an online class. I would never meet or know any of these people.

I decided I could take it one of two ways. I could do the basics:

"Hi everyone! My name is That Chick Over there! I'm graduating in December! I'm majoring in Teaching and Learning/ Environmental Health! I'm thirty and I have twins! I'm married! I want to be a scientist when I grow up!"

All of that is true, of course. But it doesn't reflect me. Not at all.

So instead, in that one class for that one semester, I told the real truth. I grew up poor and I feel inadequate most every day of my life. I worry constantly about my children and the crappy world they are growing up in. I've experienced racism first hand. I was the victim of a violent assault when I was fifteen and I've never gotten over it. I use humor to mask a lot of pain sometimes. I live far away from my parents and I don't think they really miss me all that much. That I want to feel closer to my siblings. That I'm often really just a scared little girl who tries to act like she knows what she is doing.

The most amazing thing happened, in that one class, for that one semester.

Everyone else told the truth too.

People said:

I was abused as a child.
My parents are alcoholics.
I used to be a drug addict.
I was poor.
I'm poor now.
I want it to be better.

And it was okay. It really was okay. No one was afraid to say the truth. There was no judging. It turned out to be the best class I had ever had in my life. I was expecting nothing from it, and I gained a huge amount of insight.

So I guess that's what I hope for my blog.