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