Chinese Sexuality / American Sexuality

Hi, it's me, long time no blog (that's something of a joke since we might have gotten the phrase "long time no see" from the Chinese since they have one that directly translates to that). But I'm not going to worry about the gaps between blogs anymore. I'm just going to do my best to post whenever I can. I hope everyone will understand that I'm really busy with classes and trying to explore China as fully as I can. I don't know if I'll ever get a chance like this again. But, from September 28th to October 4th I was on vacation for the National Day Holiday (pretty much the whole country is on vacation from October 1st to October 7th). I went to Xi'an and Beijing and I was so busy that I had no time for blogging. And in Xi'an I didn't even have Internet! And when I got back to Nanjing I literally did nothing for 3 days because I was so exhausted. Hopefully I'll be able to talk about the stuff I saw later.

Right now, I would like to discuss sex in China. Sex isn't really something most people are comfortable talking about. But I have just become insanely curious since talking with my Chinese friend. She's 6 years older than me and extremely intelligent but she is very naïve when it comes to sex and sexual relations.

I became aware of this fact when we were on our vacation in Xi'an. We were visiting the Big Goose Pagoda and when we were wandering through the Buddhist temple's gardens we came upon an unusual sight: chickens mating.

Me and my American counterparts immediately said something along the lines of "chicken sex..." and starting laughing nervously. Our Chinese friend was confused and said something like "What?! They're fighting!" We calmly explained that they were definitely mating. She was still very confused. She wondered why they would behave the way they were behaving. We said that it was the way chickens make chicks. If they don't do that the eggs aren't fertilized and that's what we eat. If the male doesn't "mount" the female the eggs are just the chicken's "period." She said "Oh... I thought if you just put the egg in heat (incubate it) it would make a chick... hm." So this event sparked my curiosity.

Later, I learned from the same girl that in China, boys do not think about sex. They think about finding a girl to marry. They want to court her and they will think about which fluffy stuffed animal might be the cutest to her. They do not think about ways to get into her pants. They will also pay for everything and are even expected to have a car and a house ready for both of them to live in before they can get married. And a girl is considered "damaged goods" or a "dirty tramp" if she has sex out of wedlock. Which seems very old-fashioned to a modern American girl like me. So, it seems that Chinese teenagers don't think about sex very often or at all. The plot thickens.

So, then I learned that in middle schools - and even in high schools - Chinese girls are expected to have boyish haircuts and where baggy clothes: anything to downplay their burgeoning womanhood. The schools have a policy against something that translates to "early dating" and they do everything to prevent relations between boys and girls. Also, the term "early dating" invokes feelings of deep shame in Chinese people. So much so that they are trying to downplay the harsh term by creating another one that means the same thing. My Chinese friend told me that if a girl received a love note from a boy she would immediately turn it in to her teacher to prove that she did not try to start an "early dating" relationship. And that her teacher told them that there was no point starting a relationship at their age because it would lead to nothing. They would just end up going through relationships like they "go through DVDs in a DVD player." And the students listened to the teacher.

I just find this to be a striking contrast to American students. If any authority figure (teachers, parents, etc.) tells them to do something the chances are high that they will rebel and do just the opposite. Apparently it is not the same for Chinese students. Perhaps it is just a result of their upbringing and Chinese cultural history. The Chinese have always been ruled by one powerful force: first Emperors and Dynasties and now the Communist Party and it's leaders. And that history of obedience has lasted for 5,000 years. However, I have also heard it said that Americans are motivated by ideas of sin and morality while the Chinese are motivated by ideas of shame and family honor. Perhaps the difference lies there.

But, the Chinese media is censored by the government and it does not portray sex or any form of sexuality while the American media is saturated with sex.

I still have no idea exactly how Chinese people learn about sex (and what exactly they learn) but it seems to me that by not talking about sex and not advertising it anywhere, the Chinese are at least being consistent. In the US, how can we expect abstinence only programs (which the Chinese seem to be applying in some way) to work when all kids see on TV and in magazines is sexual imagery?

So, while the Chinese system seems to be successful in keeping teenagers from having sex (as far as I can tell) the American system is in horrible shape. Teenage pregnancy rates are the highest they've been in a long time. Certainly the highest out of all the first world countries. I think it's a clear sign that abstinence only does not work in the United States.

When I was a kid I was given all the details I wanted. From my school and from literature my parents provided. I was never told I had to wait until I was married for sex, just that I should wait until I found someone I was in love with. And I have only had one sexual partner in my entire life and I'm engaged and ready to marry him.

Basically, my point is, education about sex does not cause kids to have sex. People need to realize that. Maybe in China they can get away with telling their children nothing because of their culture and the fact that there is no sexual material readily available. But, in the US, kids are confronted with sex all the time. They need to be prepared for it. Abstinence only does not cut it. People never think that educating kids about drugs will cause them to go out and get high. They think it will help them make smarter decisions about drugs. Why would educating them about sex be any different?

This post went in a direction I didn't expect it to go in. Oh well, I hope the whole thing is coherent and full of wisdom. I don't want to go back and read over everything I wrote.

I hope you all enjoyed my impromptu essay!

~Brianna~

Dr. Pepper and Sour Gummy Worms

Ahh! I must blog everyday! What is wrong with me?! I feel like every time I do this I should be like "Blog, please forgive me for I have sinned, it has been *blank* days since my last post." So, Blog, please forgive me for I have sinned it has been 8 days since my last post...

If it's any consolation I haven't blogged because I've been trying to avoid my thoughts rather than try to make sense of them. I've been feeling homesick and missing my Eric and my family members. So I've just been watching Weeds almost non-stop whenever I'm sitting in my room. I've been doing anything to distract myself because it's like I have this gaping, abyss-like hole somewhere in my mind that wants to suck me down into wallowing in self-pity and crying because I'm homesick. So, I bolt the door shut with Weeds and activities.

But it's been really strong lately and I have broken down a few times. Right now I have it under control. I even went to an import store and saw lots of products I haven't seen in like a month. It made me nostalgic and I did want to buy all of them but I restricted my purchases to poptarts and sour gummy worms for now. Seeing the Dr. Pepper and sour gummy worms made me think of Eric, but it didn't make me cry so that's good.

I'm excited to go to Xi'an and Beijing next week. There are lots of activities planned so I need to make sure my camera is fully charged. I'm also going to try to meet up with one of my mom's business contacts. She is in insurance and told her bosses about me going to China and they got super excited and got two Chinese people in touch with me. So I'm going to meet up with Chen Nanyang in Beijing and probably be treated to a lot of food and drink. I don't drink though and it's like impolite to refuse a drink in China. I'm going to have to figure out how to deal with that. I would really really not like to get drunk. Also, they'll feed you until you burst unless you tell them repeatedly that you're full and leave food on your plate. I think it will be a really cool experience though.

I don't really feel like blogging anymore. I will have to write more later. I promise to come back.

XOXO,
Brianna

So Tired So Sleepy

Hi!

So I'm keeping my promise by blogging today. I feel good about that. I just don't really feel like writing about anything so I'll probably write about everything. I feel so drained. Being sick is really messing me up. Also, I'm afraid people won't invite me to go places with them anymore because I keep not going. It's already started, people have stopped inviting me. They just leave without me. I want to go I just don't have the energy. I don't know if they know that though.

Eric (my fiance, for anyone who doesn't know) thinks I complain about being sick and stressing about my classes too much so... I won't talk about that. I have always done that. I'm trying to figure out why. I don't think of it as complaining either though it probably still is. It's just something that's bothering me, at the forefront, at the tip of my mind, so to type. So since that's what I'm thinking about that's what I type about or converse about. It's really just talking about what's on my mind, not complaining. I just wish I had good things to talk about. I wish there were good things at the forefront, at the tip of my mind. But instead I've just been trying to shake off being sick and trying to go to class and do my homework. I'm not exactly having amazing adventures in China right now.

I read somewhere that the average adult laughs 7 times a day. I haven't been laughing a lot lately, definitely less than average. I need to find a way to watch The Daily Show and the Colbert Report. Those shows always crack me up. Coughing has replaced laughing.

What is there to laugh about anyway when random tragedy can strike at any time? I mean, my problems are trivial and meaningless compared to what's happened to Eric's aunt: home evasion, boyfriend shot dead, shot 4 times then kept under blankets for three hours with no medical care and just some sips of water. All because the cops wouldn't stop a speeding car. Maybe in a few months she'll have physically recovered and then in two years maybe she'll emotionally recover. It's horrible. I wish I could do more than just sit behind a computer screen but I can't. I want to give Eric a hug but I can't. Bad things didn't use to happen around me but whatever good luck I had evaporated a while ago. I almost feel like I did something wrong to lose the shield that prevented tragedy from happening to me and people I care about.

At least Eric's family is gathering around his aunt, creating a support network. She was estranged and now that they almost lost her everyone has realized how important she is to them and is reconnecting with her. At least that's one positive. I understand that, I've been through it.

I've been through this enough now that I can discern a pattern in the way that I react to horrible things:

Step One: Shock. I numbly take in the information about the event and ask questions when necessary.

Step Two: The horror of it hits me and I start to cry.

Step Three: I stop crying and file the event somewhere else in my head, maybe I cry about it later.

Step Four: I try to avoid mentioning the details of the incident to the people most directly involved. I use euphemistic phrasing if it is brought up and I don't bring it up myself. I don't often ask for information. I don't want to upset them. In some cases this has led to me not knowing all the details about an event. But sometimes I don't think I want them. It's like I try to pretend it never happened. I don't like upsetting people unnecessarily and I don't want to dwell on things because then I won't get them out of my head. I have a vivid imagination and I can always see it all playing out over and over again in my head. So, I just try to go about my everyday life and not think about it or I'll never stop. I think I also do it because I can't deal with other people's pain. I feel so helpless when confronted with it. I don't know how to comfort them. I really want to help and I want to be there for them but I don't know what to do. There's nothing I can do. I hate that. Hugging is my only recourse.

Well, that's all for tonight. I'm going to read my newest eBook on my laptop and lose myself in someone else's story. When I get hungry I'll eat a ham and cheese sandwich with some milk tea and then go to sleep. Just trying to go about my everyday life.

Brianna

P.S. My water tastes like dirt. Bleh.

Guilty Long Post to Make up for Not Blogging

Ok, I have been doing a terrible job keeping my blog up-to-date. That changes now! I solemnly swear to write a blog post everyday. There! I wrote it, and it's the truth (Tenacious D reference, heehee). I hope the Honors program will forgive me, I've been sick and getting adjusted!

I'm feeling better though, my stomach is now allowing me to eat food again, though it seems to have shrunk in size, which is probably a good thing. I would really like to lose like 15 pounds while I'm here. That's about 5 pounds a month. That doesn't seem like an unrealistic goal. But, I want to lose it in a healthy way. Not because I'm sick and can't eat. I have a gym membership and since it was like 45 American dollars a month I must use it. I will work out and get fit, toned, and skinny. Mid Autumn Festival Resolution. Not that people make Mid Autumn Festival Resolutions...as far as I know.

The Mid Autumn Festival is coming up. I don't really know too much about it. Basically it's a celebration of the harvest season or something like that. There is traditional food like moon cakes (yuebing), jiaozi, zhongzi, and yuanxiao. The Chinese Americans in my group say it's all amazing and they're really excited to eat it all. My history teacher said we might see images of a moon goddess. She told us the myth about how the ruler during the Xia Dynasty's (which is the earliest Chinese dynasty and there is no physical evidence to prove it existed just a historical record that has been proven accurate on other events) wife ate an herb in the forest and became so light that she floated up to the moon. She was too light to get back to Earth so she lives there with just a jade rabbit for company and she is lonely. I'm sure I'll learn more about it soon. We get a break from school for it. However, we have to go to class on the weekend to make up for the days we miss during the break. So it's kind of like yay! aw.

Back to the skinny thing, there are no fat people in China. Seriously. No joke. I only see skinny people. There are maybe a few who are carrying a couple extra pounds but you couldn't call them fat. It's pretty amazing. I'm not sure if it's their dedication to exercise or a high metabolism or good diet or what but it's something I envy. But I fit in well enough, I'm pretty average size here. Which is good because I can buy clothes easily. I'm the right height, right shoe size, right body size (though I still would like to lose 15 pounds and be back where I was in high school) for the clothes. Which is good because they seem to come in one-size-fits-all for the most part. Ok, enough of that.

So, since I've been sick I asked Liang (our bilingual RA) to help me get some medicine. It was really interesting to here some of the Chinese ideas about health. For example, in the West, if you are sick people will tell you to stay in bed and rest. Liang told me that even if I don't go to class I should still get out of the room and walk around outside, get some fresh air. Of course, as I have covered, I don't really consider any air here fresh. I don't think they have air purifiers either. Liang didn't really seem to understand what I was talking about though she thought it was a good idea and wondered why they didn't have any.

She also took me to a fruit/vegetable/meat market where I bought 4 bananas. I was looking at the apples when this huge bug flew up from somewhere in the pile and started buzzing around. I, having a tremendous fear of bugs, immediately panicked and began hiding behind people and trying to run away from it. Everyone else just went about their business and didn't even notice it. I felt really silly. But, I didn't buy any more fruit. The smell was pretty bad in the place especially since my stomach still wasn't doing so good. Liang commented on it being awful as well.

I think that's all I'll write for now. More later. I will try to talk about some differences between China and the US.

Brianna

Sick

I haven't written a blog post in a while because I've been feeling sick. I don't know what it is about China but it seems as if the country is trying to kill me.

I think the food tastes delicious but then I've got stomach cramps and I can't force myself to eat anything. I can't even tell anymore if I'm hungry or just in pain. I don't know what to do. I've taken lots of stomach medicine but now I'm worried that the stomach medicine on an empty stomach is hurting more than helping. So I haven't taken any in 24 hours. I just want to eat a simple sandwich. However, I feel too weak to go out and get one. I think I even know where to get one. I think that is something that's bringing me down too. The fact that I have to go out to get anything to eat. I just wish I could stock up on stuff to make food but there's really no way to do that with my tiny mini-fridge that I'm sharing with my roommate. We just have a square foot of chilled space and a toaster oven that I'm afraid will catch on fire. I don't really know what to do.

Then, there's the allergies or sinus problems or whatever you want to call them. I have had every issue with my nose from runny, stuffy, drainy. Right now it's relatively clear thanks to Claritin. My supply won't last forever though. And I wake up every morning with a sore throat. Right now though I'm just full of mucus and pressure. I can feel it in my ears and my head. I get random sinus headaches. Every time I swallow my ears pop and the mucus in my throat sloshes around and makes me cough. I wish I had some Mucinex even though I've never really used it so I couldn't say if it would work or not. They must have something like that here but I wouldn't know how to recognize it. And I would have to go outside and walk in the heat and humidity which would not be helpful. I can barely even manage to just sit here.

Eric accuses me of being an old lady complaining about my aches and pains. But I really just want to feel normal. How am I supposed to have a good experience here if I can't even move to go out and experience it? If I don't get better soon I might just have to go home so I don't die. What's the point of staying here if I'm just going to be sick the whole time?

Excuse Me While I Kiss The Sky

Today, I could see the blue of the sky.

I never thought that just the sight of a sliver of blue sky could fill me with such happiness. It was pure blue and the sun shone through and I felt a place inside me that I didn't even know was empty fill up with joy.

OK, that's a tad melodramatic. But you don't understand how much you need to see the sky until it's gone. Every day a light gray smog cloud drops down and grips the shoulders of the buildings in this city. It smothers the sun and the sky until everything looks even more dirty and ramshackle than it really is. I find myself yearning to look up out of the haze of gray hot humidity and see a cheerful blue.

Sorry, I sort of sunk into histrionics again. But I don't know, I want to write this blog like prose so in case I ever feel like writing a memoir or something I have some excellent material to draw from. Plus, I want anyone who reads this to feel like they're actually seeing and feeling what I'm describing. I mean, I'm supposed to be a writer. Therefore, I strive for exquisite description.

Anyway, to offset the gray urban landscape I've been placed into I have purchased a small bamboo plant. I really think I'm incapable of caring for plants but I once managed to keep a bamboo plant alive for a few years so hopefully I can manage with this one too. If not, I can callously say that it was only 45 kuai.

For now I will gaze rapturously at the slice of blue the universe has begrudgingly offered up, following the example of the bamboo. We turn our leaves to the light.

Blogging From China / Doing Laundry

Nihao!

Wow, I'm blogging from Nanjing, China. I have been needing to start doing this. I originally started this whole blogging thing for a class and now I'm using it to get honors credit for a Chinese Culture class I'm taking. I seem to only blog if I need to for a grade. Oh well, I'm going to have to do it every day for this one. I'm already behind because I'm starting like 9 days late. But I have a good excuse, I've been really busy and tired. There's been so much stuff going on in the last 9 days that this is the first chance I've had to really start this blogging thing.

I was thinking about going through and summarizing all the events and things that have happened to me but I think I'll pass. I'll probably just talk about them as they come up naturally.

Right now I'm sitting in my hotel room/dorm waiting for the laundry services to open up. I have to admit that I was really scared to do my laundry here. I'm so used to doing it myself and the idea of other people handling my clothes is really scary. If they shrink or get destroyed or something I don't have any clothes left basically. I only packed a limited number. I went down a few minutes ago and the laundry room was closed. I looked in through the plexiglass door from the gray cement room with ping pong tables and some hard pink chairs and wooden end tables and saw my clothes neatly folded up on a self. So, I'm not so nervous anymore. I just have to wait until they open.

Dropping the laundry off was an experience in itself though. The woman said "wash and dry" and I agreed. I tried to communicate that I wanted my clothes washed on gentle cycle in cold water, tumble dry low but that didn't work so well. There is a girl in my group named Jessica who is American/Chinese and speaks Mandarin fluently (but can't read or write it) who tried to help me and another girl (Alex) out. She said the woman was very rude and that our clothes would be ready in "About a day, I don't know!" We had to make sure each load was under 2 kg. So I had to do three loads, one for shirts and other soft fabric clothes and two for my jeans: 3 pair per load. I had to pour laundry detergent into plastic cups for each load. I borrowed some of Jessica's since we had this plan to all share detergent. I felt weird about it though, I'll probably just buy my own. I don't want to have to go into other people's rooms and take their detergent when I need to do laundry.

So, after we left the clothes we had to go from the basement to the building next door's lobby. We had to pay for the laundry services there and get tickets to pick our clothes up. Mine was 42 yuan or $6.20. I don't have much experience with laundromats but I think that's kind of expensive. Oh well, at least they folding my clothes for me so they wouldn't wrinkle. That's priceless to me.

I like to keep my blog posts organized according to subject so I think this one is done for now.

Xiexie

I Fall in Love with Fictional Characters

Greetings.

I feel like I should maybe explain the title of my blog: "Brianna's Brain." When I first created the blog and it had that empty space where a title should go I started panicking. I felt like I had to choose a really good title because I didn't know if I could go back in and change it later.

So I picked "Brianna's Brain."

I think the literalness of it works since I basically am attempting to display my gray matter all over your computer screen.

But I mainly chose it because of an episode of Star Trek called "Spock's Brain," even though it's pretty much the worst episode ever.

Yes, I am a little bit of a trekkie. I am, perhaps, (warning: lame joke approaching) bi-trek-curious. Ha. Ha. My fiance Eric wishes I didn't like Star Trek. He is die-hard Star Wars and he thinks I should be too. I don't really see the problem with liking both. Star Wars has the action, romance, politics, religion thing covered. Star Trek has the tension, science, fictional alien culture, Spock thing covered. Of course, these things do overlap to some extent. Except for Spock.

I got into Star Trek because of the new movie that came out recently. It was so awesome and I just wanted more of it. So I watched the entire Original Series of Star Trek on Youtube and Hulu. That's all I've seen of it. I haven't seen any of the older movies or any of the other series.

But the entire time I have been typing about Star Trek I have been hiding something and I think I should just come out and admit that...

I am in love with Spock.

It's pretty much real love too, not just a crush, as far as I can tell. Spock is thus one of the four men I am romantically in love with.

Lucky for my fiance he is the only man I love that is real and not just a made-up character. I also do not think I would leave Eric for any of my fictional loves. But then I have never actually seen them in person. I am 90% sure I would not leave him for a fictional character.

But anyway, whenever I would watch an episode of Star Trek that I hadn't seen before I would be holding my breath until Spock appeared on the screen. I first fell in love with him when he was played by Zachary Quinto but Leonard Nimoy really is Spock. So that makes it creepy. Nimoy is so old now! I wonder if he's aware that at least one engaged 21-year-old lusts after his younger image. *shudder* He's also a good foot taller than me. I can't help it though. What can I do? Spock is sexy.

Why is Spock sexy? Well, he has pointy ears which I have had a thing for since I was a small child reading books with elves in them. He is also highly intelligent. I am drawn to dizzying feats of intellect. Also, every woman who falls in love with him fails to get him to love her back unless he is under the influence of something (like blue flower dust). I feel like I could get him to love me.

Perhaps that is a fatal flaw of womankind. We desire unattainable men because we think we can attain them when no one else could. Besides the fact that he is, in fact, imaginary, Spock is essentially unattainable. He is half-human half-Vulcan and he professes to not understand human emotions. He tries to be all Vulcan: logical, honest, and emotionless. Then, Spock displays random emotions that he claims not to possess. He is also frequently hilariously sarcastic. Perhaps that's another reason I love him: his sense of humor. He is also incredibly loyal to his friends and he is willing to sacrifice himself to save them, even though he would never admit that he would do something like that. That's why I think he is capable of true love. I don't really have time to get into it, but here is a short list of the reasons I love Spock:

- He has a very strong sense of what's right and what's wrong and he doesn't let anyone shake his confidence in his convictions.
- He is a certifiable genius.
- He is very liberal and open-minded.
- He is incredibly brave and adventurous and he's willing to risk his life for others or for a cause he believes in.
- He is something of a pacifist because he does not believe in taking a life.
- Even though he is a pacifist he will kick serious ass without hesitation if it's the only option he has.
- As I have mentioned before, he is incredibly loyal and he sticks by his friends.
- As I have also mentioned before he has an amazing sense of humor.
- Besides being a science/math/computer whiz he is a musical genius as well! He can play symphonies perfectly on piano the first time he sees them (I have a soft spot for guys who play piano)! He also plays a Vulcan harp.
- Besides being a science/math/computer whiz and a virtuoso, he knows stuff about history, literature, and the arts as well.

These are just a few of the reasons I love him. But, I will admit that he is not perfect. I don't want to talk about his flaws now though.

Anyway, Kirk is always saying that Spock can't love but I think he's completely wrong. He (platonic) loves you Kirk! Why can't he love a girl? Your only examples are the stupid girls who throw themselves at him. They are being ridiculous! Besides the fact that they are all wrong for him, they are so clueless! They claim to love him for who he is "the Vulcan and human parts" and then they go and try to get him to wax poetic to them or kiss them passionately or something. If they really loved him they wouldn't need that. They would be totally fine just to allow him to be his emotion-denying self and deal with the ways he expresses love.

If it was me, I would first find a way to get on the Enterprise and interact with him on a daily basis. Perhaps I would get him to teach me how to play 3-dimensional chess. I know nothing about chess so it would probably take him awhile. I am slightly worried that he would refuse to teach me because he's too busy. But, since I know almost nothing about chess I think he would be too intrigued to refuse. I would then be my normal self and hope that he would find me "fascinating." I think he would. I can be quite fascinating when I'm not paralyzed by shyness. I would definitely have to forget about that around him. I would also not be an insensitive jerk like the rest of the crew members tend to be. If I ever brought up his Vulcan heritage I would not make racial slurs about it. I would only say good things. I can't think of any bad things anyway. I would also take up my flute again and try to get him to play music with me. Then, I would wait. I don't know how long I would have to wait. I think at least five years. He needs time to fall in love. So I would give him time and just be his beautiful charming friend. Then I would wait for him to let slip any more-than-friendly feelings. He might not. Then I would be very sad and probably leave the Star Trek Universe. But, if he did that would be so amazing! I would have to be incredibly vigilant though since his slips are so subtle. Oh, I would also have to become good friends with Kirk and Bones, maybe Scotty too. I think they would help me if I asked in the right way; they think Spock needs to get some. So if Spock did let it slip that he was interested in me I would make a romantic gesture. I would not throw myself at him and confess that I love him, no, that is for Star Trek bimbos. I would move incredibly slowly. I might touch his hand or something when it was obvious that I didn't do it accidentally. Then I would probably gauge his reaction to that and leave him alone for a bit if he needed it. Yes, it would be an excruciatingly long courtship. But I think in the end it would be worth it.

I hope you don't think this post was incredibly silly, geeky, and a waste of your time.

I don't really have time to talk about the other fictional characters I'm in love with, or my fiance. But I feel like I should at least say who the two besides Spock and Eric are: Achmed and Zuko.

Achmed is an immortal assassin king in a series of books by Elizabeth Haydon called "The Symphony of Ages." He is probably more unattainable than Spock. For one thing he is already in love with a beautiful girl who is annoyingly perfect. He is also incredibly paranoid and doesn't trust anyone. Luckily though, he can't have the girl he wants, she's married to someone else and has a kid. But, to be fair, I think he deserves her more than her husband does. But anyway, he is described as being hideously ugly. He is not human. He's half-firbolg half-dhracian. I don't feel like getting into what that means. However, I don't think I would find him unattractive. He's just so amazing! He is probably one of the funniest characters I have ever encountered even though most of his humor is incredibly biting. He is a genius (I have a thing for geniuses). He seems to understand the human condition perfectly. People are also always up in his face about things he's doing and he is always able to make them look like idiots because he's right and they're wrong. He conquers an entire kingdom with a little help from like 3 people. Yeah. He also creates his own weapons and uses them with ridiculous skill. His personal mission is to rid the world of evil. He has a ton of flaws and secrets. I think that is one of the things that makes him so appealing. That's all I'll say about him for now. To really talk about him in-depth I would kind of have to summarize a lot of the books he's in. But anyway, I don't have a strategy for seducing him. I can't figure out how I would even get close to him. His military network would probably kill me before I could even get a mile away from him. He's also devoted to that girl I was talking about. And he is so biting to the people he loves. I don't know if I could take his teasing. I'm too sensitive. But, I can't help loving him. Maybe I could find a way to make it work.

The other fictional character I love is Zuko. This one is probably the most embarrassing. He's a 16-year-old on a Nickelodeon anime-type show called Avatar: The Last Airbender. In the show, people use the four elements: earth, water, fire, and air, kind of like magic. It's based on Asian martial arts and culture. Zuko is an exiled prince who can control fire. He steals the show even though for most of it he's the bad guy. When you first meet him he's really arrogant and hot-tempered. And he's hunting the hero of the show. But then it becomes clear that he's a really complicated guy. He was exiled by his father, the "king." He got exiled because he spoke out against his father's decision to use untrained soldiers as a distraction in battle. He didn't want innocent people slaughtered for no reason! So his father made him enter into a duel with him. He refused to attack his dad. His dad then viciously attacked him and scarred him for life in more ways than one. So, he was sent out to find the hero and capture him, that's the only way for him to regain his father's love. So he becomes obsessed with finding the hero. But he's really a decent person, somehow he managed to avoid being twisted by his horrific dad. No one has ever shown him any mercy, yet he's always showing mercy to people. He never kills any of the guys who attack him even though he could. He is not a genius. He's not the brilliant child. He struggles to get all the skill he can. His sister is great at everything and she teased him throughout his whole childhood. Then she plays power games with him by manipulating his desire for love from his family. The only one he ever got real love back from was his mother. And his father killed her or exiled her (not sure which) when he was a small child. His uncle is the only one who currently shows him real love and it takes him forever to be able to accept it. Eventually he learns that he doesn't need his dad's love. He realizes that he can be the bigger, better person and deny his dad. Then he goes to join the good guys and they reject him at first. I'm not really sure why I love him so much. Maybe just because he was raised in a really twisted family yet somehow managed to become a person with so much integrity and courage. He also really needs a hug.

I hope this post wasn't too boring. These are some of the things I think about when I'm falling asleep at night. I indulge myself in fantasies about these guys to stop the incessant babble about school and life that goes on in my head. I make-up stories where I create a fictional character version of me that could fit into their world and win them over. It really helps me get to sleep. Something I should be doing right now.

Goodnight,
Brianna

A Hard Day's Night

It's been a hard day's night... and I've been workin' like a dog...

Hi. Today is Monday.

I'm having a very hard time talking about things that do not have to do with school! I'm stressing out.

This blog, i.e. ENG 411H Reflective Project, is due tomorrow/today.

My rough draft for ENG 411H is due Thursday. I haven't even finished reading one of the books I want to write about for that paper! I don't have the book, it was shipped today though, so hopefully I'll get it soon since I expedited the shipping.

I also have to read another book for that class and I haven't been able to get as far into it as I need to be.

My revised Shakespeare paper is due Thursday. I don't know how to revise that paper. I wrote it the same way I would have written a paper for ENG 411H: with close, detailed analysis of the text. I probably wrote it that way because that's the only type of papers I've had to write this semester. However, that is apparently the wrong way to write about Shakespeare. I got 96% on both of the tests I've taken so far in that class. So, I need to figure out what I did in those and apply it to my 87% paper. I'm not sure I'll have time to succeed.

Then, for Wednesday, I have to read three 5-10 page short stories and critique them.

Next Wednesday is also me and my fiance's 6 year anniversary.

Then, for next Wednesday, I need to write a 5-10 page short story and print out 22 copies of it.

I also have to finish my application for study abroad. I have to write the application essay, which is about 500 words, and the scholarship essay, which is about 1,000 words. I need to get that done sooner than April 15th. Basically, it needs to be done ASAP.

For Friday, I need to complete a poetry portfolio and turn it in to my teacher's box. That will probably be the least difficult since I just need to print out all the poems from this semester and organize them.

That feels good to get out. I don't keep planners because I forget to write in them or I lose them. I keep everything in my head. It is kind of nice to see it all out there in black and white though. Now I just need to relax and try to breathe.

Maybe now I can write a post about something NOT related to stupid school.

~Brianna

Crash! Bam! And you're okay

Hello!

Here is a poem I just wrote in my ENG 371 class. It's basically an expression of how I'm feeling right now. You don't have to really read too much into it; you just need to try to feel the emotion behind the words. Sometimes I feel like I don't like poetry because I just end up saying, "But I don't get it!" I think I'm starting to realize that you don't really have to "get it" you just need to feel it!

Crash! Bam! And you’re okay
wandering through
the hallowed halls of
higher education hell
perhaps the tuberosity
of your fifth metatarsal
feels strangely strained.

You’re feeling the
disabling of your
fuel pumps as you
try to juggle
twenty-thousand
didgeridoos full of
nonsense.

What! Don’t stop! Get
your gluteus maximus
into gear and power
through food cravings
and mind-numbing
boredom that makes
you turn your
white-knuckled skin
into elastic card houses
that sink away too slow.

Your pen scurries high
voltage across the lines
and you feel concern for
your latent osteoporosis.

Why do you take on so
much? You’re juggling
flaming chainsaws for
Jesus Christ lizard’s sake!
But the legend endures
through end-of-week levels

You’re going to break
the shaft of your femur.
Gyrating up stairs, along
walkways, into cars like
the Porsche 918 Spyder
Concept. Quicker than
the hallowed Carrera GT.

Maybe you’re in a
Placebo-controlled study.
Study and observe the
effects on the human
psyche. Tears like therapy
but more like the jagged
edges of liquid pain.

When do you stop?
Does it ever stop?
The road ahead is:
icy, rocky, blue,
green, banana!

There is a clear decline
in sexual interest, sexual
arousability when you
skip showers for
Shakespeare and are

slightly angled, seen from above
but you don’t want to quit
life in its frenzied
über-crazy-manic-slam

Driving through slushy
tendons and muscles
that rebel and squeak
as you freefall
into post puberty.

The adverse effects are clear
and present danger. The
biggest surprise is the
moments when you
can relax and just
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Windfall

Hello.

Here is a short story I wrote last summer. It's based on one of my particularly vivid childhood memories. Enjoy!

Windfall

A willow tree once grew in the backyard of a modest house in suburban Phoenix, Arizona. It had towered majestically over the patchwork of dried yellow and green grass that made up the lawn. The orange honeysuckle and purple bougainvillea that lined the brick wall of the yard had seemed ostentatious when compared to the willow’s solemn beauty. The summer sun, which stripped the grass of its lush vibrancy, once sent rays of light to slant through the willow’s trailing leaves. However, the sun could never fully disturb the cool shade beneath the willow’s branches, the only escape from the oppressive summer heat. But the willow no longer stands.

The little girl who lives in the house did not see the willow tree fall. Her mother tells her of its demise in the morning while she is eating cereal and watching “My Little Pony.”

“Hey honey, did a loud noise wake you up last night?”

The little girl shakes her head “no” with her mouth full.

“Whoa! You must be a heavy sleeper!” her mother chuckles then fondly tousles the girl’s hair. “It was such a loud crash! Daddy and I jumped right out of bed! All that wind from the storm last night blew the willow tree down right on top of the swing set, can you believe that?”

The little girl looks away from the TV and up at her mother, eyes wide as she gasps in astonishment.

“Yeah, it’s crazy, right? But, OK, listen to me now. Are you listening?” she says, turning the girl’s head towards her as it tries to turn back to the TV. “Stay away from the swing set and the willow tree. The swing set can’t hold up that heavy tree for long. It will break and fall and crush any little girls standing near it. Daddy is going to get some friends to come and help him cut up the tree and move the pieces away as soon as he can. Play with your toys inside until then, OK sweetie?”

After her mother leaves the room to do laundry, the girl scurries to the sliding door and presses her tiny hands and face to the glass. The willow tree had been ripped from the ground with tremendous force, its roots now just a tangle of wood and dirt. A mammoth hole and the jagged remains of its roots are all that remains in the earth. It had fallen onto the old, metal swing set and its leaves were wrapped around the gleaming slide like feather boas around a woman’s neck. The girl may not have seen or heard it fall, but she witnessed that storm.

Monsoon season always brings such storms, biting torrents of rain, booming thunder, bright lightning flashes, and howling winds. The girl had watched the storm before being forced to bed as she watched all the storms, exhilarated by the horrifying wildness and beauty. The willow had always withstood the cruel winds, an immovable wall in the face of their blind fury. However, this time the wind had prevailed, proving why even mountains bend to its force over time.

The girl pushes on the glass door and it slides open with a low shriek. She runs out onto the dry grass and feels its sharp crunch beneath her bare feet. The sun shines on her long brown hair as she abruptly laughs at the comical sight of the fallen tree on her swing set. Then, her laughter trails off and her brow furrows above her brown eyes. Hummingbirds dart past to drink from the honeysuckles as she studies the tree.

The willow had always been an insurmountable obstacle, a tree that could not be climbed. As she walks towards it, she remembers digging her nails into the tough bark, scraping her feet against its rough surface, wrapping her arms around the trunk and getting sticky sap all over her body in her attempts to reach even the lowest branch. She finally gave up her mission when even the cat could not climb the tree. He managed to reach the lowest branch but fell upside-down when his declawed front paws failed him.

Now it is simple to climb the tree. She barely remembers her mother’s warning. The tree had always been her fort and her friend, why would it hurt her now? The girl carefully walks around the mass of dirt and roots and scrambles atop the trunk. The rough bark scrapes her hands and feet and the sharp smell of sap fills her nose. She sweats in the hot sun and the bright green leggings and flowered shirt of her pajamas cling to her thin frame. She climbs the tree easily and quickly finds shade under its branches. The green tendrils of the willow’s leaves are draped all around her like curtains, blocking out the rest of the world.

She soon climbs to the top of the swing set and perches atop it. She briefly considers climbing across the top of the swing set. She remembers her daddy pushing her and her sister on the swings. “Higher, higher!” she had shrieked happily. The swing set had bucked and rocked out of its grounding holes and then back down into them with harsh thuds. She must have lost her grip on the chains, her hands slick with sweat. She had fallen from the swing to the ground and got dirt in stinging scrapes on hands and face as well as an aching head. Another memory quickly follows. She remembers gripping the sides of the slide to push forward and not letting go soon enough. She felt the rush of wind as she flew down the slide. Then there was sharp pain and bright blood from a gashed finger. No, climbing across the swing set is not safe.

She explores the lower levels of the willow then climbs to the very top. She’s covered in sap, bits of bark, and leaves and her hair is a snarled nest but she does not care. This is her tree and she is just like a monkey or a jungle cat prowling its branches. She finally reaches the very top where the branches are thin and sag under her slight weight. She pokes her head through the foliage and looks out on the yard, the leaves draped around her shoulders and body like an elaborate cloak. Then, the branches give out and snap beneath her small body.

She hears the snap and falls toward the hard ground, ground so greedy for rain it sucks away any moisture and hordes it deep, leaving the dirt rock solid. She’s plummeting down in a whirl of blue sky, whipping leaves, and sharp branches. She flails, trying to grab onto something, trying to stop her fall. The strands of leaves are tangled and loop back and forth like nets. They slow her fall, bit by bit. Finally, one bundle of vine-like leaves stops her fall. She dangles a couple feet from the ground, sitting on a loop of leafy tendrils that closely resembles a swing. She exhales and takes gasping breaths for a brief moment before her precarious perch snaps and drops her the remaining distance to the leaf-strewn ground. She draws her knees to her chin and sits motionless on the ground, unharmed.

Men come and saw the willow tree into manageable pieces and cart them away. The girl and her friends create a fort in the hole left in the ground until it gets filled in and no trace of the willow tree remains. The girl boasts of her experience. She tells her friends how the tree saved her, how it would not let her fall.

The End

Study Abroad

Salutations!

I haven't mentioned this yet but I am planning on going to Beijing, China this year for my fall semester. I have taken a year of Mandarin Chinese in college and I really love the language. I want to immerse myself in the language and Chinese culture. I want to become as fluent as possible. I also want to see all of the amazing historical sites and have an awesome time. I would also like to make some friends. Overall, I am very excited about it even though I have to be away from my fiance for almost four months. I think I can get through the pain of being separated from him as long as I can keep myself incredibly busy. I'm more worried about him than I am about me. I also hate the fact that I'm costing my mom so much money. She wants me to have everything that she never had. She didn't get to graduate from college because of family and money problems so she is going to do everything she can to make sure I can graduate and make whatever I want out of my life. She also thinks going to China is an amazing opportunity for me (which it is) and that it's a once-in-a-lifetime thing (which it is) and she doesn't want me to miss out because of money. I am trying to help her out as much as possible though. For example, I will use my own money as spending money. I am also going to apply to as many scholarships as I can even though my course load this semester is frightful. I have just applied to a scholarship in fact. The NAU GO Study Abroad scholarship. If I win I will have to write a blog. I do not think that will be a problem ;) I am afraid that I won't be eligible for the scholarship though because I am going to a program that NAU does not directly run. I think I will be crushed if that is the case even though it doesn't say how much the scholarship is worth. It just says "amount varies." But anyway, here is the essay I wrote for the scholarship.

I believe I should be one of the recipients of this scholarship because I am a sensitive, brilliant American with an active, imaginative, and open mind. I would make an excellent representative from the US of A. I would not wear tropical shirts, point obnoxiously, or speak English loudly and slowly. I would be respectful and immerse myself in the local culture. I would experience life in China without judgments or reservations.

I believe I should be one of the recipients of this scholarship because I want to learn how to speak fluent Mandarin Chinese and I understand the importance of language. I am sick of being monolingual. The majority of the world is multilingual. I want to join them. I understand that language is an expression of culture and identity; the way people speak reflects the way they view the world. Every language is unique and complex and there are words and phrases in each that cannot be translated. I love using the English language to express my thoughts, feelings, sense of humor, etc. but I want to express myself in multiple dimensions. I want to learn how to express myself in Mandarin Chinese and learn how its native speakers view the world. I want to expand my global vocabulary.

I believe I should be one of the recipients of this scholarship because I would write an amazing blog. I am an English major. I know how to create vivid and engaging imagery. I know how to portray human emotion. I could show other students who are considering studying abroad my experiences in Technicolor and inspire them to strive towards their own.

I believe I should be one of the recipients of this scholarship because I am a spoiled child. My mother refuses to let me get any student loans to pay for my Cadillac of study abroad programs. She refuses to let me give her any of my money and insists I use it only as spending money. She insists on paying my half of the rent and utilities for the apartment I share with my fiancé for four months so that he doesn’t have to find another place to live and I don’t have to find a place to store my stuff. She wants to pay the tuition so that I can take three summer school classes so that I can make sure I still graduate on time even though I’ll be gone for a semester. She is willing to do all of this even though it will strain her substantial resources. I deserve this scholarship so that I can at least help her – my amazing, generous mother – in some small way.

I believe I should be one of the recipients of this scholarship because I am an incredibly motivated and hard-working individual. I have been an overachiever since I was in preschool. I have always given my entire being to my education. I have cried more tears for school than for family tragedies. I am disappointed in myself when I get a B. I am not exaggerating. I put so much effort into the education system and I think I deserve for the education system to support me in some monetary way. I am the future and I deserve to be bright.

~Brianna

The Zone and My Sleep

Hello there.

I haven't written one of this post thingys in awhile (not that anyone reads them.) I have been too busy suffocating under a crapload of busy. I'm in that stage of my junior year college spring semester where I cry at a sign of sympathy from anyone. I don't really know why that is. It's like I can only hold it together when its self-contained; just keeping up some internal encouragement monologue so that I can keep juggling chainsaws, axes, samurai swords, etc. while walking over a hot bed of coals as I do my taxes. But the moment someone else walks by and is like "Holy smokes Batman! How do you do it!" I lose the momentum that keeps me hurtling forward and face plant in smoldering natural resources.

But crying is a weird symptom of stress. I feel like a body under stress should try to conserve its energy and fluids not hemorrhage them when a passing stranger says, "Are you okay?" But I don't know, I guess it's cathartic. I generally only cry when I'm upset anyway. I never cry during sad moments in movies, TV shows, books, etc. I am "moved to tears" I would say but they do not manifest. They only manifest with any kind of regularity when I'm stressed or pissed off at someone. This fact has always irritated me. Whenever I fight with anyone I want to seem strong and in control but I always end up bawling. I always want to shout, "I'm crying 'cause I hate you so friggin' much not because you hurt me!" In a perfect world...

In a perfect world I would be asleep right now. I was planning on going to sleep, I really was. I brushed my teeth and washed my face. But as I was smearing high potency acne medication (do not use if you plan on becoming pregnant, what?) on my slightly damp skin I realized I was in The Zone.

The Zone is a tricky entity. The Zone is writing zen, nirvana. The Zone is stream-of-consciousness that is good. I can't write a good blog if I'm not in The Zone. That might be another reason I haven't written anything in so long, I wasn't in The Zone for that long.

The last recorded instance of The Zone occurred Thursday March 25th. It was triggered by a Shakespeare test on The Merchant of Venice and Othello. I wrote 5 pages of brilliant Shakespeare analysis in an hour and a half. It's impossible to do that without The Zone. The Zone must be induced by that potent combination of furious thought and limited time.

However, after the test, still in The Zone, I went to have lunch with my fiance's grandparents at the Olive Garden instead of sitting down to write a masterpiece. So, I cannot go to sleep till I have at least utilized this incarnation of The Zone to my best ability. Thus, I keep writing.

But I really should go to sleep. There is this cautionary fable for children whose moral is: say please. I read it as a kid and I think it stuck with me because of the way they personified "please." The Please is a tiny jester-looking creature that lives somewhere in your mouth and every time you use it it gets out to breathe some fresh air. Fresh air being all it needs to survive and thrive. If you do not use your Please, however, it withers away and is very sad. I feel like this story could be applied to Sleep. Sleep of course would be a tiny sandman-looking creature. My Sleep is malnourished and starving because it does not get used enough. But my Sleep is not a Please. It does not kindly hide somewhere in the body when it is neglected. No, when I bring Sleep out it is aggressively needy. It needs to get out in that fresh air. It's so aggressive that it sometimes does not let me put it away. So I'm forced to stave off Sleep - even though I don' t want to - just so I can get things done because if I let it take over I won't wake for at least 12 hours if not more. The only thing that works is alarms and an amazing ability to resist temptation. Though I have to admit, sometimes that siren call is too much and I miss classes and hours go by like seconds in a hazy dreamworld.

That call is overtaking me now. I feel like I have blogged enough. I am going to go to sleep. I have earned it and my Sleep has earned some fresh air. Goodnight, sweet Internet.

Brianna

Obsessions with Hobbies

Hello again.

I think a big part of my personality is my tendency to obsess about things. I do it all the time and people around me usually think it's unhealthy. They're probably right.

Sometimes I obsess about something that might be considered a hobby.

For example, my freshman year at college I became obsessed with Holga photography. A Holga camera is basically a cheap Chinese camera that takes irregular pictures. However, a lot of the time the pictures turn out really artistic and beautiful. The film might get overexposed and make really interesting lighting effects. Or the camera might not focus right and blur things in cool ways. So I spent a lot of time online looking up stuff about the pictures and the cameras trying to figure out how they worked. I also had to find a place in town to buy the film and get the pictures developed. I bought a camera and nearly went crazy mentally taking pictures until it came. Then I used up two rolls of film fast. Then my obsession went away and I didn't get the pictures developed til like a few years later. But, here are some examples of the pictures I took:




Pretty amazing, huh? I really should get more film and take more pictures but I'm just not obsessed anymore so the motivation isn't there.

Another thing I recently got obsessed with was antique watches. I saw this watch bracelet thing on Anthropologie's website and fell in love with it. It's like two different antique-looking watch faces and different chains put together to make a bracelet that can have two different time zones on it:

But the thing is this watch bracelet is very expensive on the website. And all the reviews are terrible and people say they get bracelets that aren't nearly as nice looking as the one in the picture. So I figured I could make one myself for a lot cheaper. So I went on Ebay and etsy.com (which is an awesome website by the way) and finally bought my own antique-ish cool looking watches. As soon as they were delivered I tried to start making this bracelet and realized I didn't know how to do it. I worked hard to try to figure it out for awhile and then I realized I would need professional help. So that obsession has died and I don't know when my watch jewelry will get made.

So yeah, I go through a period of extreme obsession where I work on something as hard as I can almost every free waking moment. Then my obsession eventually fades and I just don't care very much after that.

More on obsessions later,
Brianna

Basics

Hello!

I just realized I've done two posts now without mentioning the basics. What are the basics you might ask? I am glad that you asked!

My name is Brianna. I am 5' 3/4" tall. Let's just say I'm 5' 1." That's close enough. Everyone happy? Good. I don't really mind being short. I'm used to stretching up to reach things. I'm used to getting chairs and ladders. I'm used to asking big, strapping men (haha) for help. The only things that bother me are:

(A) Finding clothes I like that fit me right with out alterations. For awhile I only wore jeans from Abercrombie kids. Size 14. But recently my shape has changed and I can now fit into jeans from Abercrombie and Fitch. Size 0S. But I digress. We can talk about clothes later. Or never. Whatever.

(B) People who are shorter than me. They bother me. They startle me. I'm not used to looked down at people. It's disorientating. I really emphasize with my beagle Chance. He is terrified of dogs that are smaller than him. He saw a Chihuahua puppy once. His eyes got all huge, his ears pressed down, he ran away whenever he saw it coming.

(C) I will never be allowed to be a contestant on America's Next Top Model. Not that that's a goal of mine or anything. I just like the show OK! It's really a guilty pleasure thing.

I weigh around 115 lbs. I'm not sure why you need to know that. Girls aren't supposed to like talking about their weight right? Well, I just kind of painted myself as an Abercrombie-and-Fitch-wearing-America's-Next-Top-Model-watching kind a girl so I can see why you might think I wouldn't mention it. But seriously, that is just one part of the mulit-faceted gem that is me!

I mostly get my ideas about fashion from my younger sister Lindsey. She probably is the Abercrombie-and-Fitch-wearing-America's-Next-Top-Model-watching kind a girl. I think she's got more depth than the majority of those though.

So yeah, I have a younger sister. I also have two younger brothers. My parents got divorced when I was five. Save the obligatory apologies though. I barely even remember them being together. I have one odd memory of them fighting and me and my sister hiding in our room while I hit a Barbie baseball bat against a wall to try to get them to stop. But that's about it. Everything else is two Christmases! Though the being shared and having to drive stuff between two houses was frustrating. I'll talk about that later too.

So my two younger brothers are probably the most adorable boys on the face of this Earth. Zach is 3 and Nick is 1. He actually just turned 1 on President's Day. Next President of the United States of America? Possibly. He has the blond-haired blue-eyed thing going for him right now. And Zach has chocolate eyes and hair. They are my dad's kids with my step mom. My dad and my step mom have been together since I was 6ish.

Ok, moving right along. I have a grandma and a grandpa on my dad's side. He also has a younger sister and a younger brother. My uncle was in prison for years. Something like arson and attempted murder. I don't really know the details about that. But anyway, he's always the one cracking jokes at family events. My aunt is currently fighting cancer. Apparently she managed to get lung cancer even though she has never smoked. But as far as I know it is not the fatal kind.

My mom's side is hazy. She has five sisters and one brother. I don't even know all of their names. I don't think I've ever even met all of them. Maybe when I was a baby or a small child. But I really have very few memories of them. Her brother got like a scholarship to NASA space camp when he was twelve. This uncle of mine is in the military. He lives in Germany and is so high up in Intel that he is one of those "If I told you I would have to kill you" kind of guys. My mom has had FBI people come to her house and investigate her relationship with him. Serious stuff. We don't talk to him. We're not allowed to contact him.

Weird though, huh? One criminal uncle and one military genius. Strange how the world works.

I only have a couple memories of my mom's mom. It doesn't really feel right calling her grandma. I have one memory of her standing outside a house crossing her arms as my mom drives angrily away. I can't even see her face. My next memory is of her sick in a hospital bed as she dies from cancer. A withered old woman with tubes coming out of her carrying away greenish-black fluids. Her mouth would gape open and shut but she wouldn't speak. At least not that I remember. There was also a horrible smell. Something I don't think I can describe. I remember wanting her to die. I just wanted her to go away. I didn't have feelings for her. I didn't know her. She was making my mom cry and I just wanted her gone. I feel guilty for wanting that. But I was a child. I just wanted our lives to be normal again.

My mom's father is apparently a short Cajun man you can hardly understand. I get my shortness from him. (See it all goes full cycle) A man I have never meet. In fact, the fact that he is in fact a short Cajun man whose speech is difficult to understand is everything I know about him.

Now I have depressed myself talking about my mom's family that I don't know. She's "the city folk who made it" but she doesn't talk about the past with me. I'm just city folk.

Happier things... happier things...

I am engaged to my soulmate. His name is Eric. We have been together since we were in high school. (This is where you say that drawn out 'aww') We live together in a 2 bedroom apartment. I will tell you all about him later. Right now I'm feeling emotionally exhausted. We have a cat named Lola. I have a poem with Lola in it. I will post it when I figure out how to get the formatting right on here.

Well, that was the basics. And a bit more than just the basics. Whatever. That is all for now. I'm going to go watch Internet TV.

~Brianna

Safeway-Starbucks-Kiosk-Angst

Hello again.

I figure where I work is kind of a big part of who I am since I spend at least 16 hours a week there. Right now I just work Fridays and Saturdays. I can't work on school days. I tried it once and I ended up crying at work because I was worried that I wouldn't be able to get any of my homework done on time. So now I think it's best if I just work on the weekends when I don't have classes. This semester I also have Sundays off. It's really nice to have one day where I don't have to do anything at all. Well, I usually end up doing all of my homework on Sundays because I'm worn out on the other days. But still.

I work in a Starbucks kiosk in a Safeway. And, because everyone always asks, no, I am not employed by Starbucks. I am employed by Safeway. And it sucks. I'm not sure if I should say anything bad about Safeway here though... So I will let you read this lovely poem I wrote instead.

Safeway-Starbucks-Kiosk-Angst

I get up before dawn when the

party house from across the lot

is still full of male giggles &

the sound of some girl retching

might as well be in my own bathroom.

Then it’s my own personal green light

& I’m wondering if

Scott’s going to throw down

his muffin

or ask me to feel his bicep

or maybe he’ll mumble at you in

that not-drunk-but-drunk-sounding

way of his that makes you

laugh nervously, look away, and

tap your foot. Then you

ask me for a cup of coffee;

which would I recommend, Yukon or Pikes?

I tell you I don’t like coffee

& you ask me if I’m a lesbian.

(What does sexual orientation have to

do with coffee you fatigue-wearing bigot?)

Have a great day!

Then you’re asking me for a nonfat

caramel macchiato with whipped cream

& extra-caramel (and Geoff says he’s

sick of America’s anorexia. You’re

nit-picking calories & what good

is it really doing you substituting fat for fat)

Have a great day!

You want two grande espresso frappuccinos

& we make them in the same blender (but

just like doubling a recipe; it tastes exactly the same)

& you refuse to try it & we have to make them

again & you’re “allowed to be picky because the

drinks are so expensive.” (Did I hold a gun to your head?)

Have a great day!

Then you’re holding up the line, telling me

(about things I don’t want to know)

your daughter wants you to cosign on a

new car & she didn’t pay you back for

the last one & you’re remodeling your

home & just bought your wife a

Toyota Corolla (And I don’t care.

Staring at you with a big stupid smile

plastered on my face, forever nodding).

Have a great day!

(& my hands are cracked & bleeding from

washing your dishes & I’m

splattered with syrup & whipped cream

absorbing coffee into my pores & I

can never wash the smell of it away

& if you call me sweetheart, dear, or honey

one more time

I’m going to kick you in the balls)

Have a great day!

That sums up the experience fairly well. Of course I don't really mention anything about my problems with coworkers. Of course Geoff was great... he doesn't work there anymore. I've been there for a year and a half. AN ENTIRE YEAR AND A HALF! I really wish I could find another job somewhere else. Somewhere where my coworkers don't always ask me to do them favors. Texting me at all hours of the night begging me to come in for them. It is so freaking annoying! Showing up late, not showing up at all, slacking off... When they don't show up I don't get a break sometimes.

8 hour shifts with no break. I know other people have to do worse. Can handle worse. But I have to get up at 4:30 AM to go in sometimes. I CANNOT EAT that early in the morning. So I end up standing for 8 hours with no food. Working. That is hard. Hard for me. I start to shake violently. It's terrible. Especially when I have food and beverages surrounding me. Sometimes it's really terrible being the only reliable one besides the Starbucks manager.

But I told them when they hired me that I am a motivated individual who always works harder than everyone else. I flat out told them that! The lady who was interviewing me, Elette, she was so excited when she heard that. Her eyes practically popped out of her head. She made sweeping motions with her pen across her clipboard. She exclaimed "Great!" and told me how that's exactly the type of person they're looking for. I don't know if anyone else ever says that but they should because Safeway really likes that. They eat that up. But instead of just saying it to get the job, I was actually just telling the truth. It sounds like something you just say because people like that kind of stuff. But I really meant it. And after working there for A YEAR AND A HALF I have realized it is very true indeed. I do work harder than everyone else.

So I put up with customers' bullsh*t, I get covered in all that sticky crap, work so hard to keep everything clean and orderly, and I go home with coffee deep down in my pores. Fact: I take a shower when I get home. A long shower, a hot shower, a scrubby, soapy shower. And then, at night, before bed, when I wash my face. I SMELL COFFEE! Needless to say I really hate the smell. I really hate that smell. At least when I'm working in that kiosk I never smell it. I'm immune to it until I get home. Then I notice the stench.

I feel like I should mention the fact that I do not like coffee. I really can't stand the stuff. I have the biggest sweet tooth. Coffee is so bitter and I just can't make it taste good. I also have no tolerance for caffeine. None. I think I got rid of any dependence or tolerance for the stuff in high school. I just noticed I didn't drink any caffeinated beverages. After that whenever I did try to drink like a Dr Pepper or something I would get a massive headache, stomach ache, and be unable to sleep at night. So now I avoid it. But it's a good thing. Caffeine is a drug. An addictive drug. So now I need the smallest mg amount of it to wake me up if I need a pick-me-up. That's pretty nice. I'm not the "I need my coffee" kind of person at all. We get those types a lot at Starbucks.

But yeah, it's a job. My own personal source of income. I always feel like a spoiled upper-middle-class kid when I say that I really wouldn't have to work if I didn't want to. Well, I don't want to work. But I do want to make money and feel like I'm semi-self-sufficient. Try to save for the mystical future. Even if my mom does give me money for rent, food, and pretty much anything else I want. At least if I have a job I can feel like I'm helping. In some small minimum-wage kind of way.

That's all for now,
Brianna

Maiden Blog

Hello.

I would first like to mention that I am beginning this blog as a college project. A college project that I am really late getting started on. I'm trying not to worry about that right now though. Procrastination is the rest state of the collegiate population. It is our alpha and our omega. Our destruction and our salvation. It is 3 AM. It is an entire bag of Oreos. I could keep going. How long before this gets old? I really could keep going. I need to fill up space for the aforementioned college project:

"Reflective Project: 15% - This is an arena for your self-constructions and reflections on these constructions. You should contribute to it every few days. This is meant to be a place for you to explore different writing styles and modes (such as informal, free-form writing) as well as creative approaches to expressing yourself..."

Did you catch that part? 15%. Self-constructions and reflections on these constructions. I take that to mean that I need to figure out who I think I am and think about how I feel about who I think I am. I did the "..." but it goes on. It says how I can use pretty much any kind of media I want for my self-expression. I have decided to blog.

Why blogging you might ask? Exactly that! So I can say stuff like "why you might ask?" so I don't feel like I'm just writing this to see myself think. There is a certain kind of validation that comes from projecting my thoughts to the world. I feel like maybe someone out there KNOWS. They KNOW exactly what I'm talking about. They will read my words and say, "Finally, someone else gets it!"

Or maybe the opposite. Someone out there is like, "This is bullsh*t." That is also good. That keeps me modest even while I think I'm such a genius writing this amazingly awesome stuff. Also, it's easier to tell strangers who I am than it is to tell people that I know who I am. This might all be ruined actually if someone I know reads it. People I know can form opinions about me that actually matter. I really could care less what strangers think. I don't ever have to see them. Don't ever have to look into their faces and wonder what they're thinking of me.

Also, I hate writing with pens and pencils in bound-books. My hand cramps, my arm burns. I get upset with the shape of my lettering. That "a" is not perfectly executed. I must erase and begin again. Or I find myself desperately needing to delete something I just wrote from existence. If it's written in pen I have to scratch it out and then it's still there, lurking, taunting me beneath the ink. If it's in pencil I can erase it, sure, but not completely! It lingers oh how it lingers. That is why this method is best. I can erase anything so quick. Whole paragraphs can disappear. Too perfect. Or I can go back through and make small adjustments. Dainty tweaks to make everything exactly the way I want it. Yes.

Also, the Internet is permanent. I could lose a book to anything! Fires, floods, theft(?), bears! But anything I send into the vast oscillating network of the Internet is basically forever. If you just know the right words to type into Google you can find anything you have lost as long as the website wasn't deleted.

Then there is the fact that I am a fantastic typist. I do not finger-poke. I can type much faster than I could ever write. Thus, my thoughts can so much more readily be transferred to this tangible state. And my fingers do not easily tire when they are effortlessly punching down black keys with neat white letters.

Have I had any meaningful self-constructions or reflections on those self-constructions yet? I don't know. I'm trying. I really I am. I feel like explaining all this stuff helps pinpoint what kind of person I am. The fact that I feel the need to explain it all also probably says something. You be the judge.

I will end now. I think this is a good first blog. Yeah, it's sufficient. It gets things started. Puts stuff in motion. Maybe it's just decent. I don't know. There are things on other tabs that I would like to attend to. Also, I don't want to have too many diverse topics in these blogs. Oh, in case you didn't notice, I break up my thoughts with spaces so that you don't get tired. Your eyes can rest in my spaces. No big blocks of text here. You're welcome.

~Brianna