Hi My Name Is
*taken from Sunday Scribblings via Krista at The Silent K.
Hi my name is Kelly. I go by “Mocha”, but have answered to far less. In my classroom 10 years ago I agreed to go by “Bitch” but told the 8th grade smartass who uttered it that she was not allowed to use my first name ever again.
I have been a mother for 21 years and still couldn’t tell you the first thing about how I did that. I am jealous beyond measure of the mothers I know now who fret about the skill of parenting because that was a luxury I wasn’t afforded. I did a damn fine job raising that girl and was lucky to find a partner who helped me raise her and the two sons he later gave me.
I am constantly looking for what’s next in life and that restlessness has a price. Not too long ago I hit a wall where that’s concerned and feel oddly like I am trapped in a corner.
I talk fast and use my hands to help express myself, but in my head the words are slow and measured because I want to say the right thing. I look to be profound in my comments to the students I see every day because I fear sometimes that their fragility will take them from me and I won’t be able to say those words again.
Writing is a hobby, but words I put to paper will likely never make it to this screen. I keep some writing hidden or do so anonymously. The words still need to get out. When I read things like this I am inspired to continue using my words and try to do so without resorting to upper case.
I generally speak in upper case and even when I don’t I command a room because I have learned how to get the attention of thirty 14-year-olds so doing so with 100 adults is really not that difficult.
I am not motivated by money but I have been known to set my sights on something and take on extra jobs to pay for it. I do not miss being on food stamps nor the emotional struggle I felt trying to get off of them. Paying for your own food after getting it free takes a toll on the psyche.
I am loud and raucous and don’t take shit from anybody. When I’m quiet and it looks like I’m taking your shit, I’m plotting.
I am interested in religion as an educational exercise and the most fascinating people I know are Calvinists, but there are some serious hangups for me on that front. I’m glad my boys like their Youth Group, but I cautiously monitor what they learn from their white, privileged leaders and then use that opportunity to help them think for themselves.
I’m super pissed about reading the latest alumni newsletter from my university to see that the scholarship recipients are all white. Well, I’m happy for Vishnu and all, but still I think it’s culturally deficient to display all those white people and boast about the scholarships they’ve given away. I won’t ever send them any money. Ok, fine. I never did anyway. But now I really won’t.
I am currently interested in mental health. I tell myself it is general research, but it is not.
My love languages are physical touch and gifts. I hate that second one because it sounds like I am greedy. I am. I just don’t want to appear that way. I have to touch or be touched every day. My understanding is that skin is the largest organ of our bodies and it requires stimulation.
I love taking pictures and am always surprised by the shots I like the most because they never seem to be of my family. I know what they look like and cameras can’t always capture the myriad things I know intimately about my family, but when they do it becomes an instant favorite.
I used to like to cook and my kitchen has made it impossible to enjoy the task when I’m constantly rearranging my space to fit my needs. Chopping vegetables or fruit please me. There is nothing more comfortable and homey than beginning to saute The Trinity of peppers, onions, and celery. I like fruity wine and dirty martinis and usually regret the shots people talk me into. Tequila makes my throat hurt and my voice disappears the day after drinking it.
I am in awe of my mother’s confidence to try new things, my sister’s confidence in herself and my father’s ever-changing nature. My other sister is newly free from a man I don’t think was good for her, but I am galvanized by her determination to go it alone. I am proud of where I come from.
I am the person you want to stand next to at a party for I can hold my own in conversation. I let my face do the talking. I am transparent if you care enough to pay attention to my words and my body language.
I am a reader of fiction and biographies, but self-help books are a waste of my time. I have my own ideas and have yet to learn something I didn’t know from a self-help book. I am Common Sense. I want to get lost in imaginative worlds when I read and escape reality, not shine a light on it.
Hi, my name is Contradiction in Terms. I am a Foregone Conclusion. Some days I can flutter and coo. Others, I am all schmaltz. I am tender. I kick ass first and take names later.
Hi.
My name is Kelly. And you still don’t know me yet.


