I am not one to be very superstitious.
But looking back on things that one may find worthy of being superstitious of, one might find it quite easy to for me to be such.
A Black Cat. All black. Big, poofy, nails of steel.
Yeah I wrastled...I said wrastled, that near feral kitten right on down and brought it to my grandmothers to live happily ever after.
That cat subsequently randomly attacks you while you pet it, leaving scratches so deep one might think you had a bad encounter with the Wolverine. And I personally would like a good encounter with the Wolverine and his muscles...just sayin. But cat all purring and eyes shut in pleasure one second, and the next its claws to the arm, eyes bulging in complete fury, it doesn't end well.
This cat also decides to barrel up, almost army crawl like, behind you just because he is in the mood, and attach himself to the back of your leg. It mimics an unsuspected attack from behind by an enemy. You flail forward not quite sure what hit you. Nail puncture marks to the back of your leg like you were riddled with bullets. He will then detach and run so quickly away there is no time to react and seek revenge.
This cat also enjoys hiding in dark stairwells, with his black fur and all, and spring up hollering when you have the audacity to not notice him and step on him. Like this is our fault. You either have to be light on your feet or you fall to your iminent death at the bottom. My grandfather once called me, having narrowly survived such an attack by this cat, from the bottom of the stairs, on his cell phone, unable to move, well with the exception of his fingers, so he says. He luckily lived to tell about this harrowing encounter with said cat. He is also a known exaggerator, ( and perhaps I did inherit a trait or two), so it is very likely that he tripped on the last step and slightly bumped the wall across from him and the cat laughed in his face, so he had to think of something good. But you didn't hear that from me.
So this Black Cat is just plain nasty and one might consider it unfortunate events or some bad luck...but I'm not superstitious or anything.
Gray Hair. It is simply said that if you pull out one ten will come in its place, if you're superstitious. And I'm just saying, this girl now has to fully dye her head of hair. It's no joke. And its terrible. My hair is long. Like the longest I have ever had it in my life. I'm not sure what the point of this length is anymore. That's another subject. But the dying process of this hair is ridiculous. Initially, when the gray hairs started coming in I picked them out like it was my job, one by one, day by day, or when I felt like actually styling my hair, who am I kidding? Coincidence? I'm 35 people. Just 35. Wirey gray hair is not welcome here. But to test this theory on another, I may have picked a gray hair from my sisters head the other night. I may be closely watching her scalp for results. I cannot suffer in this alone. How fair is that? For her sake, I will again state, I am not one to be superstitious.
The number 13.
Taylor Swift has it as her lucky number.
To me, she's just doing that to be a bit rebellious. Stop writing the number 13 on your skin Taylor. Didn't your dad ever yell at you when you came home from school with ink writing on drawings on your skin? Seriously, my dad.
A sure fire way to get his blood boiling would be to sit at the dinner table with ink doodles on your skin.
He would state that it was going to seep through our skin and we were going to die from ink poisoning.
How do you explain people living and breathing with multiple tattoos on them Michael?
My daughter, she was born on the 13th of February.
And she is every bit of a rebel. Like from the uterus she preplanned being born on the 13th just so she could go up against the number itself. It would be completely typical. She is my daughter. 10 days late. On purpose. Typical.
Yet, she is stronger then I.
I produced a girl that is fiercer then I and she can own that number 13 like no ones business. A rebel.
It went balls to the walls and said, 'yeah, take that.'
Then it decided to kick me when I was down too...cheap shots.
It occasionally strapped me into a roller coaster of the heighest heights and the most jarring turns.
My back is killing me.
I pushed back daily on that dumb number 13 for those three sets of eyes that look at me all innocent and fill me, and that's what I had in me. At the end of the day, all went neglected and felt like the bottom of the barrel besides those three babies. They got the best of me, and that's it...and I owe them so much more. And I whisper it into their sleeping ears as they tumble off into sleep each night.
So if you got the shaft from me in the past...2013 was my crowning glory.
If you felt like, seriously this girl is like the debbiest downer in the past...2013 was the bottom of the rung for me.
If you felt like you had lost me in the past...2013 I went into hiding.
If you held me up through a lot and you feel like I didn't notice...seriously you brought me to my knees on numerous occasions by my humbleness and and gratefulness. Words failed me a lot of the times. I basically sucked.
If you feel like you needed something from me in the past and at the end of 2013 you were still around waiting, because you are awesome and irreplaceable...it's coming...
Because then this sister remembered 2014 was coming and I would love for you to join me there.
I always liked me some even numbers, nice and fair. Don't you?
And I can feel me rising. That laugh. It's loud and it's obnoxious, but it's mine.
That mouth...it runs like verbal diarrhea sometimes, but it feels so good to have it start to flow again. To stand up for me. Say what I feel. Apologize for when it says things out of line to those that don't deserve it, but not regret when they do. Because the quiet, for Ms. Lyons,signifies pain and hurt. If this girl is quiet and she is around you, check vitals and if they are fine, presume a storm is raging inside.And I want to put the oddness behind me, I don't want to be quiet anymore.
So I've missed you guys.
I owe you a hug.
I am sure for many of you, I owe you lots of time.
And a drink.
The Lyon is back.
Get ready to hear me roar.
And if you don't like it...go break a mirror in my name. I will be over here knocking on wood.