THROWBACK THURSDAY: FINDING THE VOICE WITHIN...

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.    Robert Frost

**Bloggers note: Throwback Thursday’s always entertain me.  For some reason, nothing’s more amusing than looking back on one’s life or other’s lives especially people you’ve met as an adult or later in life.  So it made me want to do a Throwback Thursday of my own.  No it won’t be of pictures but I will do a throwback post/memory/ or story on Thursdays. (Bear with me as I’m attempting to add structure to this blog O’Mine)**

Some people believe you are born with your specific personality and general character make up, for me this couldn’t be further from the truth.  I believe there were specific moments in my life when I became exactly who I am today.  Now, yes, it’s been massaged, developed, and has grown but there were specific forks in the road that set me off on the path I’m on and the paths I’ve chosen have mapped my personality. 

To understand this theory you have to understand a bit of the person named Nika. I have 3 names, a first name and two middle names (this means something seriously lol). Nika is one of my many nicknames.  I was a kid that had a very vivid imagination.  I’ve alluded before that I was and am an avid and professional daydreamer. I was born and raised in Cleveland, of parents that were pro-black, and  revolutionists in their heart. I have one sister.  As a kid (and quietly as an adult) I was allergic to everything under the sun.  I had many ailments including being a chronic nose bleeder, so my activities were limited.  I was a little active when I could be, but I mostly read.  I was quiet for the most part and stayed in my thoughts.  I never learned to color between the lines (true story even now lol).  I never did my own my hair. I rarely made my own friends.  I hated doing things on my own. I had the knack of creativity but only if I cared because I was also very laid-back. My sister, who at that time was the creative one, determined and planned every game we played. Once for an entire summer, my sister had an imaginary friend.  I tried to fake like I had one too but here’s the thing, my imagination couldn’t drum a person to save my life.  No matter how hard I tried to fake, that imaginary person was just not…well….there. HAHAHA! So I don’t know what that says about me, but that’s the kid I was just very matter of fact. 

But this “matter of factness” wasn’t always great.  It got me into a lot of trouble as a kid.  I was way to blunt, way to quick witted (a quality under appreciated in kids), and I spoke my mind far more than a child was ever allowed.  So more often than not, I stayed getting spankings.  I came from a spare the rod/spoil the child family.  And trust me no rod was left behind, if you get my drift.   Except for this one time, this one time I verbalized my distaste (if you will) and it went unpunished, This, my friends, was an anomaly in my household.  This was my crossroads.  Be it good or bad, this is when I began to unabashedly express myself (with NO filter) Now, this trait is what led me down the road of daily spankings BUT it also gave me my voice.

Let me detail you this life changing day.  Included in my laundry list of things about me, as a kid, I held sleep in the utmost regard in other words I was hella hella cranky if you woke me up.  This is something my immediate family knew and therefore implemented a delicate way to wake me.  However, not everyone respected the rules.  Let me explain, this one day I fell asleep at my aunt’s house and my mom was ready to leave so my aunt decided, against my mom’s warning, to wake me up.  But not just wake me up, but to wake me in a very abrupt and rude way.  I remember it as if it was yesterday.  She kicked the chair, it was one of those wicker chairs from the 80’s lol, and told me to “Wake my fat ass up”. 

** Now mind you if you don’t know anything about me from following this blog, you DO know I’m sensitive. And I was even more so, in the fourth grade.  Yup, I was only 9 at the time. And at that time I was super sensitive about my weight as everyone in my family was super skinny and I still had baby fat, which was a stark contrast to the folks.  But you must also note my family is one where certain words were terms of endearment, so to speak, so bitches etc. weren’t offensive AND everyone in my family cursed like a sailor.  I won’t make excuses for it and say it was right or wrong. It was just…normal. LOL**

Okay back to the story and trust the rest is quick and swift.  I opened my eyes slowly, looked her dead in the eye and I said, to my aunt who happened to have some weight on her as well, “My fat ass? Let’s talk about YOUR fat ass…” And with that my friends, the rest of the story is history.  I proceeded into a 15 minute blackout spewing every profane word in the dictionary.  See I was quiet to some, but really I was taking it all in. And I truly learned from the best.  My curse word combo game rivals the most foul mouth sailor you can ever find from here to Timbuktu.  I gathered my things, I walked to the car, got in the car, and went back to sleep all while cursing to the high heavens.  **Again, I won't say it was right...I won't say it was wrong. It just was. **

Needless to say, there wasn’t one closed mouth in the house.  Everyone was shocked especially my aunt.  Now normally behavior like this would have gotten me a personalize, hand delivered, no holds barred, primera de beating.  However, when my aunt turned to my mother to tell her she thought I was having a breakdown from my parents’ divorce.  To her dismay (and mine), my mom replied “No, I told you not to wake her up.” And got in the car and dove off.

And then a star (or devil) was born……

The End.

“Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us.” Oscar Wilde