What Humble Did Episode maybe 5? But who is really keeping track.

  Interesting Humble fact: Humble tells strangers on the Internet facts about herself in the 3rd person.

  2nd interesting Humble fact: Humble got new shoes.

I admit this is not really interesting, until I explain that over the course of 7 years, this is my 6th pair of shoes I have owned. In fact last year I only owned 2 pairs of shoes.
And then I realized that at 27 years old  I was still living by the rule of "You have 1 pair of shoes and that's more than I had when I was growing up and why would you want another pair? People are starving.You hate polar bears!" that I was told, possibly 1,058 times while I was a little H.
 
I also came to the realization that starving people and polar bears probably don't give a rats ass what I wear as long as I appreciate it fully, and donate my change and dollars every time I check out at the grocery store, and every time anyone, ANYONE, asks me for a buck. I don't expect a thank you from the universe or anything but sometimes when I am running out of gas, I call upon the Universe and remind it about that 3.00 that I gave to some renegade homeless man wearing a Flash shirt and pulling up 2 shopping carts full of what looked like baby dolls, empty beer cans, and a box of puppies so please Universe insert some Tom Cruise magic into that gas tank because singing "Livin on a Prayer" full blast is only going to get me to the next block! I always get there. I say always, but I mean mostly. Universe has a box of puppies to look out for and I understand.


The first pair of shoes that I got (outside of flip flops and fashions I wore in high school) was when I was 21 and they were Gray Converse. In my mind at 21, anything nicer was just more than what my daily life required and because PUNK ROCK. This was 7 years ago and up until 1 year ago, it is all I have worn aside from the occasional pair of flats that I would ruin in a weekend. I wore those Converse EVERYWHERE. I was pregnant in them 3 times, went into labor wearing them, stained them at more concerts than I can count, met new friends while wearing them, got in fights, had nervous breakdowns, went to rehab wearing them, left rehab wearing them...minus laces, played with my kids at parks, walked miles in them when I had no car and basically lived the best and worst of my life while wearing these shoes. They mean so much to me. I am seriously thinking of bronzing them and showing my grandkids, "Behold, Grand Humans (I will call them that) at how fucking cool I was. Everything I had to learn to be Grandma Vader, was learned while wearing these."  Their joke parents will chime in with something embarrassing like how one time a Praying Mantis landed on me and I screamed, stripped naked, peeing myself while wearing them and OH WASN'T IT SO FUNNY LET'S TALK ABOUT IT.

See the thing is, I don't really care about all the stuff I have acquired over the years. But I do appreciate what I have.  Sure, it's nice to have nice things, but things get ruined, broken, lost forever...more so if you have lots of children running around. I learned this the hard way when during a move, ALL of the little porcelain figurines my mom had given to me since I was a little Humble, shattered into bits and pieces. I was devastated. I had childhood memories of them always being in my room, and they were gone. Since then, things have been damaged beyond repair, the last being a Cinderella snow globe that was given to me on my wedding day. It was a year ago and I made the grave mistake of showing it to one of my daughters. I put it down on the floor and turned it on for her. I hoped that she would love it as much as I did. Cinderella was "my princess", the one I obsessed over when I was 4, the one who I dreamed of becoming. She had a bunch of animals that cared about her and she pulled a big fuck you to those bitches that locked her up. And in my mind at that age, I wanted what she had. A big puffy white dress and a prince to marry. I loved the fuck out of that snow globe, especially because my mom had given it to me. When I showed it to her, it was my way of showing her all the things I dreamed of having, and thought that I had, many moons ago. Cinderella makes me deep. And then in a blink of an eye, she picked it up to turn it over, and CRASH.

Thinking about it now, it kind of makes me teary eyed. It was all I had left of my wedding day. My dress was gone, my wedding rings had been pawned, and the prince? Well you get it. I yelled, I screamed, I cried. I probably traumatized her for life. Every one that was there watched me sob and bleed everywhere while I picked up shattered glittery glass.


And then I saw her face. My daughter was horrified. I grabbed her and hugged her close and realized that should my house catch on fire, SHE would be the first one I searched for. Because she is small, and young enough to not know that smoke means run away. NOT the Cinderella snow globe. When I die, it will be my children that flash through my mind. The people that I love will be there too, but mostly it will be my kids. I doubt I will even remember or give a shit about anything that wasn't a person that I loved. Can you imagine? "Oh, it looks like this is it, the absolute end of my life...do I have time to reflect? Crap just think of the first thing and focus on that...AWWW I REMEMBER MY CINDERELLA SNOWGLOBE!"


Yea, I didn't think so.

A few days later I read this quote:

“You see this goblet?” asks Achaan Chaa, the Thai meditation master. “For me this glass is already broken. I enjoy it; I drink out of it. It holds my water admirably, sometimes even reflecting the sun in beautiful patterns. If I should tap it, it has a lovely ring to it. But when I put this glass on the shelf and the wind knocks it over or my elbow brushes it off the table and it falls to the ground and shatters, I say, ‘Of course.’ When I understand that the glass is already broken, every moment with it is precious.”
- Mark Epstein 
Thoughts Without a Thinker

Thanks Universe.


So here are my shoes. The ones I love so much and will show my Grand Humans and the ones I will probably still be wearing when I meet my Grand Humans. Because PUNK ROCK.

                                          
                                    
xoxo Humble
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I was going to write something super amazing, but instead I did this.

This is me right now. Whining and facial time.
You like it. Don't deny!

One year ago, okay, over a year ago, when I set out to jot my ideas down for all of cyber space to see, I never thought I would be where I am now. I am not tootin my own horn, and no, I don't think "I'm the fliest bitch on the net!", but I do know I am awesomely grateful for the people I have met, the friends I have made, and for the people who do in fact think I am pretty fly. A month ago, A WHOLE MONTH AGO, is when I posted that I would be pulling back from my Facebook page, and concentrate more on what you are reading right now. And somewhere between then and now, I panicked. Sometimes I just want to be heard, RIGHT NOW, and so it goes that I post a status and I receive instant gratification. My need for being heard is sometimes more or less equal to my need to just say something. Whether it be funny, insightful, or completely obscene. It's like an itch that begs to be scratched. Or picked. Or chewed. You get it.


But something even worse happened in the last 4 weeks since my last post. Something I didn't plan for and thought I was strong enough to handle. I started caring about what people thought. Sure, some people have told me I am an idiot for not knowing 1,001 grammar rules, some people have said that I am actually not funny, or even very humble. But those are not promises I ever made, so I just brushed it off. If you go to my about section, I never call myself any of those things, and it's not really my problem what people assume when they first get to know me vs. how I really am.


The truth is, you don't know me. You know things I have told you about me. You see how I interact with people, read the words I write, and make a judgement. And since what I write is truthful, and no different than how I would talk to my friends, you can bet I am in reality a lot of those things I have led you to believe. There is a reason my page is called "Slice of Humble" though. It is impossible for anyone on the Internet or even in my real life to know me 100 percent. And the folks that are pretty damn close (and they know who they are) know exactly what I am talking about.


So about that panicking over something that happened? What happened? Well, I kind of started noticing that I am getting over 500 likes a month (maybe more, I just got 500 in the past 4 days) and I have started being considerate about the things I am saying and sharing. Every once in awhile someones comment will sting. Not because I believe it to be true, but because I just stopped to check my phone for 5 minutes right after I yelled at my kids to please clean up the fucking living room so help me Tom Cruise I did not make this mess!! And the comment catches me off guard and I for just a second I want to just say "Oh fuck you" and throw my phone right out the window. But instead, I keep my cool, I respond as nicely as I possibly can (I don't want no bitch face hand slap over some random fool on the Internet, thankyouverymuch) and then go back to picking up my scratched CD's the baby has boomeranged across the kitchen. And then someone will say "Maybe if you are going to have a page or a blog, you shouldn't be so sensitive" Oh I am sorry, was I supposed to turn into a robot devoid of all emotions so I can entertain you? Wait just a second, I never did this to entertain ANYONE. I did it to entertain myself, and I happen to love it, maybe not all of it, but for the most part everyone is AMAZING and I am a lucky lady to even have been given the opportunity to connect with people and speak my mind.


So about the panicky part? I didn't know what to write, I want to make you laugh, I want to make myself laugh, and I want to learn and grow through all of this. That's all. For a whole month, I lost sight of that. I got scared. I do that sometimes too, ya know? I feel it when people say tongue in cheek things about how I am getting so popular, and when people tell me they admire me, or that they want to know more and more and more about me. Well, that's all really sweet, but I sometimes just don't know what to give. I overthink shit, I get social anxiety and then I get in over my head. But I am learning. Hell, this whole post is pretty damn therapeutic. I just want you to know, I am over my panicky frozen state. I have thought long and hard about it, and even if this isn't where I imagined I would be, this is where I want to be. What can I say? I am a humble little whiny bitch.(sometimes)

And I am happy, so happy, that you are here. Hang out with me for awhile if you please.

Xoxo Humble