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
Friday, September 3, 2010
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
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
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
Monday, April 5, 2010
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
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.
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.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
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
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
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
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
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
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
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