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Name: BJ Hamrick
Gender: Female
Interests: Jesus Christ. A Certain Blue-Eyed Boy. Pink Hair. Photography. Harmony. Words. Rain. Deep Dark Mugs of Hot Chocolate. Innertubes. Mud Between Toes. Vibrant Color. Naps. Runs to Nowhere.
Expertise: My expertise? Isn't that discrimination... or something? Must one have expertise to have a Web Blog?
Occupation: Freelance Journalist
Industry: Media
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
Member Since:
9/2/2004
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| This is not a joke.
After today, I am no longer blogging. Ever. Again.
On this page, anyway.
Yes -- after 2 years of threatening, I am kissing Xanga goodbye. This is a sad day, actually -- because I have been dating Xanga for about 5 years now. We were at the point where we needed to break up, though. At least -- that's what all my friends were telling me.
You can find me here on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. There are lot of cool features at the new place -- I think you'll like them (like easy sharing of posts with friends, and easy commenting).
If you forget the new blog URL in the future, just remember: you can always find me at www.bjhamrick.com.
Can't wait to meet up at the new place. Drop by and let me know what you think!
**HUGE thanks to my friend, Debbie, who totally made the new template. She rocks!**
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| This week my new friend Erynn Mangum asked if I would do an interview on her blog. What? Like 9 questions where I get to talk about nothing but myself? Of course I said yes.
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Photo: August, 2007
Column: May, 2006 (The same month I met my husband)
Dear M.O.M. (Mother Of Mine),
You always dreamed about the day I'd prance down the aisle in a big white fluffy dress, keeping time with the organ music. When I reached the end of the aisle I'd pause to make the biggest commitment of my life, and you'd stand there watching with tears of joy in your eyes.
Today, your dream came true. Only you weren't there. If you had been, you would have been ashamed to see me wearing a white cotton t-shirt and keeping time to the Hanes song, "You Can't Over-LoveYour Underwear". That's right -- I was walking down the aisle. The Wal-Mart aisle.
And I was making the second biggest commitment of my life: choosing a Mother's Day card.
Now this may seem like a simple task to you. What you don't understand is that I have what doctors call "Greeting Card A.D.D." It's life-threatening. If I spend too much time on the Greeting Card aisle, I gradually go insane and start knocking shelves onto innocent bystanders. You know the type of bystanders I'm talking about. The ones who cry when they read Hallmark cards.
I cry when I read Hallmark cards, too. But that's only because I can't seem to find the right one for you. I can't figure out whether I want the card to be funny, or nice, or downright sappy. So I bounce from one card to another. Don't they make a mixture of all three moods? Perhaps my problem isn't Greeting Card A.D.D. after all -- perhaps it's Multiple Card Disorder. Yes, that must be it.
So I hope you don't mind the fact that you won't be getting a Mother's Day card this year. It's not that I didn't try. It's just that the nice man in the little blue Wal-Mart vest escorted me back down the aisle. And right out the front door. And asked me never to come back.
I guess your dream of watching me walk down the aisle won't come true any time soon -- even the Wal-Mart aisle. In the meantime, Happy Mother's Day, Mother Of Mine. I love you.
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| I reached a milestone last week. I finally finished my B.A. degree. All (1) of you who’ve followed my column over the past three years (I know you’re out there, Mom. Mom…?) can now breathe a sigh of relief.
You no longer have to hear me whine about grades. Midterms. Finals. And the irreversible gain of the Freshman 15. (I put on 15 pounds every time I changed majors. Not good when you’ve majored in everything from premed to watercolor painting.)
In the end I settled on a major in Talking. The school guidance counselor was intent on the idea. (I have no idea why.) He was even tricky about it. He told me I would graduate with a broad education in the field of “communications”.
Which as you can imagine sells really well. Especially during a recession.
I’m grateful to have the support of my family and friends during this economically and emotionally depressed time for me. They ask caring questions like:
• When are you going to get a real job?
• What time does the Young and the Restless come on? (We know you must
have the T.V. Guide memorized by now.)
• Have you ever thought of going back to school?
They have a point. I could go back to school. But there’s a huge part of me that wants to believe the last four years were not a waste.
So I practice. I figure if someone’s going to hire me, it will be because I am proficient in my field.
I talk when my husband’s home. I talk when he’s at work. I talk to the mailman. I talk to the mailbox.
Yesterday, however, I made the mistake of talking to Aunt Agatha. Things were going well until she interrupted me with a life-shattering question:
“Do you EVER shut up?”
All of the sudden I realized: Who was I kidding? Who would ever pay me to talk? Who would ever pay me to do anything? The last four years were a complete waste.
Depressed and alone, I wandered into the grocery store. For once, I didn’t feel like talking. Apparently the store manager did.
“Are you OK, ma’am?” He asked. “You look like you need a listening ear.”
He began to ask questions and I began to talk. Tears rolled down my face as I told him about my wasted life. My wasted money. My dog named Pip.
The more I talked, the more distressed he looked. His eyes bugged. Little beads of sweat popped out of his forehead.
”Ma’am,” he finally said, “I’m really sorry, but I just can’t listen anymore. If I give you $5, will you shut up?”
Aha, I thought. I might just make money from this education after all.
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Readers Say...
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B.J. Hamrick possesses a dry wit wielded at the end of a wickedly funny pen. Her columns inspire, inform, and inoculate against column-reading boredom. Her column will be a welcome asset to any regional paper. Highly recommended. ~Author Mary DeMuth
B.J. Hamrick is an up-and-coming fresh-voiced writer who is truly humorous, a rare commodity. I highly recommend her as a syndicated columnist with a unique twentysomething twist on life. - Author T. Suzanne Eller
I never miss your column and enjoy it very much. We laugh
at the way you understand life so well. DO NOT STOP! ~Bryan
Thanks for such a well-written, refreshing piece. It's on a
par with some of my favorite observation pieces on NPR. Love it. Love it. I'll
watch for more. ~ Amy
I have been subscribing to [the newspaper] since 1978 and I
have found over the past few months your writings have made the paper, more of a
joy to read. ~ Anthony
Just wanted to let you know I find your writing absolutely
hilarious... honestly each week I read your column I think it gets funnier and
funnier. ~ Jason
I think you have a great tone to your writing. They're
funny, self-deprecating, personal and uplifting all at the same time. Not an
easy thing to achieve. ~ Lisa
I enjoy your articles in [the newspaper]… we all need to
laugh all we can. ~ Martha
I really enjoyed this story! I was laughing throughout at all the great imagery.
~ Aaron
I have never read anything
so beautifully expressed. It touched me deeply... I always enjoy reading what
you write. Thank you. God bless you. ~ Phyllis
I stumbled onto your columns in [the newspaper] and found
them most enjoyable. You have a gift and I'm glad you're using it… ~ Rick
I’m also a columnist with [the newspaper], and just wanted to tell you that I
enjoy your writing tremendously. I like how you express yourself, and I wish
I’d had your talent when I was your age . . . heck, I wish I had your talent at
MY age! ~ Anonymous
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