No seriously. My memory about my past sucks. I’m often jealous of people who recall their first memories from early young ages. I do not have this ability. Most of childhood doesn’t follow any time of order and doesn’t make sense when I think about it and there might be a slight chance that I’m making it all up. I’ve always thought that my first memory was that of my first sip of alcohol. I have this strange idea that as a young tot, I waddled somewhere in my house and saw a rocks glass full of brown liquid. Brown liquid in my mind meant apple juice, I love apple juice. So not realizing how that apple juice usually does not smell like Johnny Walker, I took a gulp. I was instantly drunk. Ok, no I wasn’t but it burnt like hell (still does. Hate Johnny Walker to this day). I don’t remember anything besides that. My next memories come from elementary school, the time period where I learned that I had no couth. I have a few fond memories:1st fond memory-I called two boys in my class gay. Let me set the scene for you. The first elementary school that i went to from Pre K to 2nd grade (well every school that I went to from Pre-K until high school) was a Christian based school. We wore uniforms and had special times set aside for bible study. Exciting school! This school was very small and went form kindergarten thru 12th grade. Some kids went their whole lives in one academic building, again, exciting school! Fun fact, there were only two kids in the 8th grade and guess what their names were. Ralph and Lauren. I thought that was the COOLEST thing ever. No one else agreed, clearly I was ahead of my time and a repressed fashionista. Anywho, back to the 7 year old who thought it was a good idea to call two boys gay. So everyday when we lined up for recess we got into two lines, a boys line and a girls line. One day these two boys were arguing with another boy who wouldn’t let one of them cut in front of him. A girlfriend of mine asked me why they were arguing and I replied “because their boyfriends!” in a loud voice. I vaguely remember everyone either “oooooh-ing” or laughing. I clearly remember getting punched in the arm. Good ole Christian values being expressed. 2nd fond memory-I had a best friend in elemenary that I loved dearly. Presently, she doesn’t speak to me for no reason (well maybe she’s mad at me because she got knocked up by my ex boyfriend?). While on the playground one day, we (mainly me) were belting out the lyrics to “I’m Every Woman”, such an appropriate song for 2nd graders. After the second go around of singing, she changed the subject to mention her siblings. She kept calling them her brother and sister. Me on the other hand, kept correcting her and saying they were not in fact her brother and sister. Why would I say such a thing? Well her siblings had a different last name than her, which is the same thing with me and my brothers. I knew that my brothers had a different father than me because they called my father by his first name, and said things like “Ashley, you’re father wants you”. I told her that her siblings were indeed her half-siblings. She started to cry and once again, I was being punched in the arm. After 4th grade, my memories in school are pretty clear. I associate events with who was principal or what teachers I had at the time. However, most big events that happened in my childhood, I associate with being 9 or 12 years old. The last time I visited St Vincent (where my father is from), I was 9. When I went to Israel I was 12. These ages get mixed up every time I tell these stories.
My bad memory is not something that has gotten better with age. I remember high school pretty clearly. But the years since are kind of a blur. The ways that I remember what has happened in my past is by what college I was attending at the time and what my hair style was like. If the story includes me having long hair and living in North Carolina, It had to be my freshman and sophomore years in college. Anything happening while I was spotting a sharply cut bob, it was the fall and winter of 2007 and 2008. If I had long hair but was living in Connecticut, it was the summer of 2008. Every fall since 2008, I have cut all my hair off. Like Halle Berry pixie cut short. I feel like I’ll start writing about my hair (I love it so much that I should probably dedicate a section to it) so I’ll just end that there. If it wasn’t for the few Facebook albums that I have that I visit OFTEN, I would be even more confused. I’m trying to do better with my recollection issues but it’s a battle and I don’t really care that much to remember what the date was that I got my first kiss or tattoo. As my ex boyfriend would so lovingly whisper in my ear, “OF COURSE YOU DON’T REMEMBER THE FIRST TUESDAY I SAID I LOVE YOU! DAMNIT ASHLEY, YOU ONLY REMEMBER WHAT YOU WANT TO REMEMBER!” So let’s say it all together “My memory SUCKS!”
On March 5, 2011 I wrote a blog expressing what atributes I wanted in a man. Clearly that has not worked out like how I planned but I am a firm believer in speaking things into existence. I shall update my list, expressing that I want a man who will also…
Who has a great memory.
Who won’t see me as flighty but as someone who never wants to settle.
Who has many passions and desires.
Who does not worship the ground that Jay-Z walks on. Or address him as “The Great HOV”.
Who will assume that 9 times out of 10, I’ll want him to drive.
Who will understands that hair wash day means exactly what it sounds like. It’s an all day process that is not to be rushed.
Who refers to his ex girlfriend as “she-who-shall-not-be-named”.
Who isn’t a Virgo.
Who has a favorite Michael Jackson song.
Who can say an amazing prayer.
Here is my original post:
all I want is a man who:
shares my love of the Philadelphia Eagles; my like of the New York Knicks.
will tolerate that I will never stop watching The Golden Girls.
will understand when say that I am not hungry, it really means that I’m about to steal food of his plate without asking.
knows that it is hard for me to be on a date without checking my phone.
won’t get mad that I cannot stay on my side of the bed.
will not judge me when I say I’m scared of roller coasters.
will co sign my spontaneous behavior
will also share my affection of over weight white cock-a-poos who are named Lola.
would take the hint when I say nothing is wrong and not asking me the same question repeatedly but at least try and figure out what would be bothering me.
is accepting that I will put my all into us and not take me for granted.
will motivate when I quit.
loves me, short hair or long hair.
won’t hesitate to put me in my place and then initiate make up sex.
and a man who won’t read this post and already have these qualities.
Le sigh. Wishful blogging.
3rd major (I use “major” lightly) epiphany in my life in 7 years. Hope I got it right this time. Last shot. Last chance.
But not my last time to be inspired. Nor to dream.
Always looking forward. Looking back bores me. Also my memory isn’t that good. A win win.