As a young child I never had to struggle hard to be an original. I was always the odd girl out. It seemed as though I was defined early on by my differences, separated and culled from the herd simply because of who I was, not who I wanted to be. It started as early as my first breath, just after being squeezed from my mother's loins, when it was noted that I was a fair haired babe. Odd, certainly, but not earth shattering. Growing up though, enduring the countless family functions where I was always described as the 'Milkman's daughter', or being easy to spot in a crowd as the only toe-head in a sea of brunettes, grew tiring.

Then there was the fact that I had the odd ability to cry at the drop of a hat. But never on command. (Significant difference of ability. One is fairly embarrassing, the other could lead to top billing on a marquee and a possible golden statue.) I was known as the Crybaby, renown for my tender feelings and irritable tear ducts.

I longed to fit in growing up. It never occurred to me that I was an original. I wasn't that bright. What I should have done, instead of trying to find cover and hide myself in the crowd, was embrace my oddball unique traits and endorsed them. Life would have started being fun a whole lot sooner. Sigh. But I was always a late bloomer. My boobs can attest to that.

But that's a whole other post.

Now, as a mature (shaddup Boo!) woman, I embrace my avant-garde personality. I am more than a mommy, less than a wife, and a whole slew of other unidentifiable qualities that make me who I am. Love me or leave me, here I am. Boob rings and back fat. I'm shaking it all. (Admittedly, some parts jiggle more than others, but I'm not telling which.)

As I have mentioned time and time again, I started blogging to get through a difficult time of my life.

Snort! Understatement of the Year alert!!

But what I haven't mentioned is how daunting entering the blogosphere really was. I was putting myself out there, for everybody to see. But how do I make you all see me? In the vast, endless sea of blogs out there, how do I get a person to visit me? How do I stand out from the crowd? How do I become the blonde once more in a sea of very cute brunettes?

(All right, that really sucked as a metaphor but stay with me...)

Having a kickass template helps, of course. And stealing borrowing clever cartoons doesn't hurt either. But as I anxiously watched my site meter stay stuck at the seven, I realized this wasn't enough. I was going to have to go out there and impress the big guns. The cool bloggers, and hope that if they would come, others would follow.

Because we humans are really nothing but overgrown lemmings, right? Lemmings with opposable thumbs.

In my search for readers, I discovered some wonderful blogs. Some were big time bloggers, who managed to have gasp!! more than a few hundred page hits a day, while others were small and lesser known; content with their knowledge that while they may not have advertisers knocking at their door, they were adding something to the lives of those who read them. I was intimidated and impressed by all of them you, who managed to make me sit up and take stock, and strive to be a better writer, woman and human.

(Bowing in gratitude, as her bathrobe gapes wide open. Damn, I'm classy.)



It seems as though I have finally impressed somebody myself. A truly witty, little (as in short in stature, get your minds out of the gutter people!) daddy blogger has bestowed upon me a Thinking Blogger award. Apparently, this post grabbed him. Probably by the shoulders and shook him really hard. Thank you, Bennie. I am humbled to know something I wrote inspired you, when your daily life continues to awe and inspire me and countless others. If you haven't discovered this artist daddy yet, hop on over and take a peek. You will walk away with a different perspective on life.

This shiny little blog button has made me take stock and think about all the other bloggers who make me stop and think on a daily basis. As a rule, I am to nominate five more bloggers for posts who have made me think. But really, my life is too short for nonsense, and my time is too precious to waste on poorly written blogs. All the blogs in my bloglines make me sit up and take note. It seems absurd to have to weed through the masses to find a few flowers.

You are all my flowers. Gush.

But rules are rules and who am I to balk at an arbitrarily imposed rule? So, I am just going to randomly bestow Thinking Blog Awards to five people off my bloglines. Kind of like winning a lottery. If you're name isn't chosen, buck up. It doesn't mean I don't love you, it just means my finger didn't land on your name when I closed my eyes, spun my chair around and pointed blindly at the screen. You all are good Thinkers to me.

I promise.

Mama Tulip, Average Joe, ECR, Emma, Mrs. Chicken; all of you, please revel in your newly bestowed bloggy button.

To the rest of you, well, I guess you are shit out of luck. But I still love you. Cross my heart.

Would I lie to you?

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P.S. I know I was supposed to nominate specific posts, but I just couldn't do it. You all generate too much greatness. Just know that at one time, or another, or perhaps more than once, you have inspired me. Which is why I keep coming back. Well, that and I have no life and no real friends. But let's just stick with the inspiration thing, okay?