A few of the blogging hockey wives decided to start a blog challenge where over the course of the next 10 days, they post up 10 different things about themselves that you may or may not know about them. I thought it was fun, so I thought I’d tag along for the challenge.
Here are the 10 challenges:
Day 1: 10 secrets
Day 2: 9 loves
Day 3: 8 fears
Day 4: 7 wants
Day 5: 6 places
Day 6: 5 foods
Day 7: 4 books
Day 8: 3 films
Day 9: 2 songs
Day 10: 1 picture
So without further adieu, here are my 10 Secrets.
10. I have a few scars on my legs from when I was in Thailand (back from when I was 9 years old). My mother and I went there to visit family that summer. While we were there, I contracted malaria…thanks to the conditions we were in out in rural Korat and the mosquitoes biting through the net to get to me. My mom woke up in the middle of the night and saw mosquitoes lined up on my legs and arms while I was sleeping. She commented that my blood must be sweet, because they were only coming after me, and no one else under the netting. As a result, I got sick, and wound up with scars the size of quarters on both of my legs. Despite what the Dalai Lama says about killing mosquitoes…I will kill before being eaten alive again.
9. I played basketball in junior high and high school. In high school, I didn’t play for the school’s team. I played for the all-star league in the Midwest. That meant that I was on my own the majority of the time to train and practice (the high school girls basketball coach was my P.E. teacher, so she let me out of P.E. to practice on my own for the league). I also had a private basketball coach to work with me during the week. I practiced with my teammates on the weekends in gymnasiums over an hour away from where I lived. I played for the top team for several years. By my senior year, we fell into second place in the finals.
8. I can sing. After college, I enrolled in a music school in Washington, DC. I graduated as their number one student…expected to take Broadway by storm. As life would have it, I wanted to pursue something else after I moved from DC.
7. I used to work in politics. Actually, it was my first job. When I left politics in DC, a couple of senators on an elevator were talking about me. One of my friends happened to be on the elevator at the time and heard one of the senators say, “That’s sad that she’s leaving politics, but I know whatever she sets her mind to do, she will be amazing.” That was one of the sweetest things I’ve ever heard anyone say about me. After I left DC, I ended up in politics again when I stayed in Indiana for three years. I actually got the appointment because of my political background in DC. When they asked me what my registered party affiliation was…I pleaded the fifth and ended up working for the OTHER party. That’s what the senators loved about me…I was a “Democrat” working for the Republican Party. They said that it was a smart choice hiring me, because it helped them to bridge the gap in understanding what the Democrats were trying to do. Truthfully, I’m a middle of the road kind of voter. I’ll vote either way, just so long as I’ve done my research on the candidate. I don’t let party affiliations blind me or how I will vote.
6. Wonder why those Senators on Capitol Hill spoke so highly of me? I used to throw luncheons. As in…I invited presidential candidates to these luncheons, where select members of the media were allowed to meet with each individual candidate and talk politics. Not so bad for a 23 year old, right?
5. I produced and starred in a production of “The Vagina Monologues.” Let’s just say that I crossed two things off of my list of things I wanted to do in this lifetime: 1) produce a play and 2) star in a hit play.
4. I used to be broke. When I say broke…I mean…I was working for the government making $24,000 a year broke. My mom felt so bad for me that she used to bring me food. Trust me, I was starving all of the time. I dropped 20 pounds in the first 6 months working for the government. Between paying for my college loans, a roof over my head, utilities that were more than the cost of the roof over my head…I had practically NO MONEY to even buy food. Rockstars used to give me money to help them out. One of them paid me $50 just to hand out fliers, because he came by my house and saw that I had NO FOOD in my kitchen. He had seen that I had dropped a bunch of weight, so he thought the reason why was because I wasn’t able to afford food (so right he was). Rockstars always put me on their VIP lists so that I could get into their shows for free. One of the things I learned from my experience here…I NEVER want to be that broke again. That’s why I left politics for good…so I could make a good living in the private sector.
3. I don’t talk to anyone in my family except my younger brothers. I have two. One is 29 years old, the other one is 16 years old. Charlie (the eldest of the two), I talk to most of the time. I think it’s because he can relate to what I’m going through. He gets along with everybody. But as my Mom used to say…she thinks he just feels bad for me. Why? Well, I’m the black sheep in my family. I didn’t marry at the age of 18. I don’t have children. I chose a career. I’m the first woman to go to college. I don’t believe in Christianity. My family…they’re the backasswards type that’s prejudiced. They are a sexist family that hides behind their religion. Watching True Blood and those hick families on there…totally reminds me of my family. They’re sexists, racists, and every other ‘ists’ out there. Me…I’m not like that. I can’t stand people like that…which means I can’t stand my family. As you can see, I’m not 100% white. I wasn’t born a boy. I’m a female that defied their beliefs. Why do you think I live in New York City? People here are more like me…they’ve evolved. My family is not normal. They’re in that other world that us city dwellers fear to tread. I also think they hate the fact that I ‘appear’ better than them. They like to snap at you and say the most hateful things to bring you down to that ant they’re stepping on. And yeah…it does hurt a lot because you have no idea where that hate came from when it’s aimed at you. After reading all of that…just imagine what they say about female hockey writers. Believe it or not, they think I’m a liar. I don’t cover hockey. I’m not in that locker room. I dont’ travel for NHL games to cover them. After all, why would a woman get into hockey to begin with unless she’s stalking players or looking for her hockey player husband? [Yep, that’s what they said TO ME!] Kind of hard to have a family that doesn’t believe in you, calls you a liar (when you’re telling the truth and always have told the truth). Why? Because women don’t do that stuff…you know…get into sports and all [understand why a) I don’t talk to them and b) I live in NYC?]
2. I am almost done with my bucket list. If I had only 100 things on my bucket list, I would be done by now. I started the tradition years ago. I look at the bucket list every New Year’s. I highlight the things I’ve done, and add a few more things I’d like to do. Every now and again I think that when I finish that bucket list, I’ll be done with this lifetime. I think that’s why I keep adding a few more things. But as each New Year comes, I find that of those three things I’ve added, there are 35 things I have completed. It’s just a reminder that I’m living my dreams…but then again…I see I’m running out of dreams to live.
1. I hate cooked carrots. With a passion…I hate cooked carrots. When I was five, and while my brother was still baking in the oven, my Dad decided to chip in and cook for once. He was on this super organic, healthy food kick (this was when being healthy just tasted so awful). He made cooked carrots…and he burned them. He told me I couldn’t leave the table until I ate all five of the huge burned carrots piled on my plate. I tried. I really did. After about an hour, sitting at the table by myself after my parents had already left the table, my mom came in, saw me trying to eat the carrots…and crying…she finally said I could go. She told me not to tell my dad (and she threw the rest of the carrots away). While my mom and I were laying on the couch watching television, I started to feel that rumbling in my stomach. I jumped up and ran to the bathroom (stepping on my baby bro in his oven on the way). I threw up…and I threw up ALL NIGHT LONG. It was officially the worst moment of my entire life! Since then, I will not eat cooked carrots. My dad laughs because I won’t eat cooked carrots and cites that moment from my childhood. I still look at him and think…that’s not all I won’t eat…I won’t eat his cooking…PERIOD. I think “INSTANT FOOD POISONING” when I think of his cooking. I’d trust my life with a NY food cart or Taco Bell before I’d trust my Dad’s cooking…and I have a very sensitive stomach.