#1000Speak Amazing Compassion for Horrible Grammar

“I seen it”

“You SAW it. It’s your grammar. She doesn’t like you because your grammar sucks.”

Tears instantly ran down my face. My heart gained fifteen pounds in five seconds. The words on my phone became blurred. I no longer cared what he had to say. I needed to walk away.

My heart hurt.

There was no reason to reply to him, it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t been hackling with the hens about why I wasn’t invited to the new blogging group. He didn’t want to be in the middle but that’s exactly where he was- right dab in the middle of my heart ache. But it wasn’t his words that hurt, it was hers.

I sobbed for hours.

She was friendly to my face which gave her words the ability to slice my heart in half.

Tears slowly escaped one by one for days.

Time spent writing was time wasted in vain. It’s time I can’t get back, time that could have been spent with my husband and children.

I sulked for weeks.

Quitting was the most viable option. If every blogger lacked compassion, walking away would be easy.

Then again, I’m no quitter. And I am firm believer that no two people are exactly alike.

Announcing to my blogging crew the possibility of my departure was harder than telling my Puerto Rican father I was pregnant out of wedlock.

The “no, you can’t leave” I expected was actually “no, you aren’t leaving” from them. Their reaction melted my heart. I felt wanted.

 

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These are people I have never met. People who could walk pass me on the street and not recognize me. People who have never heard my laugh or seen me smile. People who like me for who I am.

These are people I adore.

Within days of being told my grammar sucked The Original Bunker Punks (the actual website) created something to not only make me feel better but to help others in similar situations.

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The Original Bunker Punks (their Facebook page) have stood by me and created a movement in order to spread compassion across the blogging community.

These people have taken me under their wings and taught me the tidbits of knowledge I should have acquired in school. The compassion in their criticism is crucial. Each of them have helped me become a better writer because of something they have done or said along the way. I have flourished because of them.

For that, I am forever thankful.

Without compassion from The Original Bunker Punks I would not be here writing this right now.

#BunkerPunksForLife

 

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Now it Matters

It never mattered before.

It’s always been a stupid holiday for stupid people in love, it was never for me. I never had a boyfriend on Valentines Day or even a date. I was never anyone’s Valentine. No pity parties allowed because never receiving a gift means never having to buy one. My glass is always half full- with booze of course.

Being forever alone wasn’t THAT bad.

My Mom bought me gifts as a child but that doesn’t count. It’s like taking your cousin to a dance. No one may know you’re cousins but you know and it’s enough to make you feel like a loser.

My Mother has always been an amazing gift giver. Every present from her is perfect,  it’s exactly what you never knew you wanted, and you have no idea how you ever lived without it. I loved her gifts but yearned for more from the boys at school.

By the time middle school rolled around other girls were getting gifts from their boyfriends. Small boxes of chocolates, cards, balloons and some were even lucky to get stuffed animals. But that wasn’t me.

Even in high school I didn’t have many boyfriends. There were more friends who were boys than there were boyfriends. I wasn’t a complete loser but I never had a guy lined up on Valentine’s Day.

My ex-husband bought me a gift once. I can’t remember what it was so therefore it doesn’t count. The gift was overshadowed by him spending the previous night at a strip club in Tijuana. I was infuriated that my gift may have been accompanied by herpes. In lieu of the events leading up to the present exchange, his gift is irrelevant. In fact, let’s just consider the whole marriage null and void.

One disappointment after another.

But it all changed for me in 2009.

That was my first Valentines Day with Brandon. Jaelyn was 14 months old and I had been dating Brandon for about 9 months.

We lived together, we worked together, we had the same days off, so we spent all our time together. Love was in the air.

Brandon could have given me the prize out of a Cracker Jack box and I wouldn’t have cared. My expectations of the holiday were at an all time low. I braced myself for the worst.

But It’s still one of my most favorite holidays we’ve spent together.

Brandon gave me flowers. The roses were hot pink with veins showing through on each petal giving them a zebra print  pattern. I walked by similar roses a millions times in the stores and commented on the pattern. The hot pink flowers were always my favorite.

Brandon listened to me.

The chocolate was in a frilly red heart. Ferrero Rocher a personal favorite.  What’s not to love about a delicious little ball of chocolate filled with a wafer,  creamy chocolate and a hazelnut? They melt in your mouth with just the right amount  of crunch. Its amazing.

Brandon gets my love for hazelnuts.

The card was sweet. His personal message on the inside brought tears to my eyes. Such sweet and innocent words from a man declaring his undying love for me. No one had ever wrote sweet words to me and about me before. My heart smiled  for days.

Brandon knew what I needed to hear.

The actual gift was perfect. A pair of white gold open heart earrings from Kay Jewelers. I had been admiring them on the commercial for months. I love everything the Open Hearts Collection stands for.

“If you leave your heart open,  love will always find a way in.”

Brandon understands how important sayings like that are to me.

It wasn’t the gifts that meant so much to me. It was the meaning behind each one. They all held special place in my heart because of the hope they carried. Hope that I found someone who understands me, listens to me and wants to give me everything I want.

Brandon gave me hope, hope of a sweet forever spent together.

That year started a tradition. We ordered a pizza and watched a movie because that’s the kind of people we are. Neither of us need a fancy restaurant or expensive gifts, we just need each other.

We have spent every Valentines Day since, eating pizza and cuddled up on the couch watching whatever movie sounds good that particular night.

On that Valentine’s Day in 2009 I knew every year for the rest of my life I needed to be his Valentine.

I need to know someone understands me, listens to me and loves me- besides my Mom.

It never mattered before but it matters now because I’m one of those people who are stupid in love.

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The first Valentines Day card from Brandon.

 

Chiny-Chin-Chin

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The Beard, Brandon

Brandon would give me anything in the world, but he won’t let me see his chin.

We have known each other since we were 14 and 15 years-old. Back then he didn’t have a beard, for obvious puberty reasons. It seems like a lifetime ago, which is prolly why my memory has failed when it comes to what his chin once looked like.

While mentally visualizing a younger Brandon, recalling some facial features is easy. His eyes were soft and innocent but have hardened over the years and his once chubby cheeks have slimmed down but my mind is blank when it comes to his chin. His face is a puzzle and his chin is the missing piece.

We have childhood pictures of him. In almost every one it’s not a front face view. His head is turned to the side or his chin is tucked towards his neck. There are even some that have a shadow covering his chin. Brandon has probably made every chin picture disappear, like the Bearded Mafia would reject him if they ever saw his chin. Is this a conspiracy theory or am I paranoid?

When first realizing the memory of his chin had slipped away, my heart had broken. How could I forget what my husbands chin looks like? My love for him is deep and passionate. Countless hours have been spent yearning for his body and yet somehow a piece of it has slipped away.

Since Brandon has declared numerous times the beard is here to stay, no one will ever see his chin. To beard or not to beard has never been an issue. My love for him is beyond physical appearances, with or without it he owns my heart, always and forever.

But that beard though.

He has such a sexy beard. It has a unique color. There’s red, brown and even blonde strands swirled throughout it. Each strand is thick and coarse but when pulled together it feels much softer than it looks. It’s long enough to twirl with my fingers and play with. Every time I stroke it, he closes his eyes, tilts his head back and moans. His response to my touch makes the beard stroke experience much sexier.

Lineup 5 bearded guys and blindfold me. Allow me to touch only their beards and I could tell you which one is my husband. I know his beard like the back of my hand. 

The memory of Brandons chin may have slipped my mind but only because I have so many fond memories of his beard.

I’ve stroked his beard in other states. I’ve tugged on it jokingly. I’ve swirled it passionately. I even held it while we had our first kiss as a married couple.

Long live the beard and his chiny-chin-chin.