RIBBONS and BOWS

If I could change just one thing…

brookester — Thu, 10 Apr 2008 19:03:45 +0000

If I could change what I ate for dinner,

change what I said to that teacher

and perhaps change my socks to match my shirt;

would it matter?

Do those small details hold importance in my life?

I do not think,

do not think they do.

But if I could change you.

Change your diet.

Change your conversational skills

and perhaps change you clothes;

oh, it would matter.

I do think,

do think you matter.

For if I were to change those small details

I would do so by ridding them of their importance.

If I could change just one thing it would be the outsiders vision,

so perhaps they could see what I see,

what I see in you.

Time.

brookester — Thu, 10 Apr 2008 18:58:32 +0000

Even though I may demonstrate, practice, take responsibility and overall be responsible in many areas of my life there are some parts where I fail to do so. Mostly I am referring to the issue I have with time. Thought: In life you are either fighting, beating or losing time. I haven’t always battled with time but after five-ish months of having my license and car the issue of being on time developed. Before I got my license I had no problem with punctuality actually I was routinely early but that was solely due to my mother and the fact that she was my mode of transportation. I do believe that my trouble with being late directly connects with that of my bad time perception; I have the tendency to underestimate how much time I need to get places. It seems as though I would have learned by now to allow a good amount of travel time but not so much. I am especially late to school or to be more exact late to school every morning. And for those who use my free bus service – they’re late, too! Originally I didn’t have an issue with my time issue but recently it has started to bother me. Not to mention yestermorning, before I even walked in, my principal pinned me for my tardiness and very sternly expressed the following: 1. You cannot be late again or you will be trouble. 2. You are a senior and should be a role model for the other students 3. It’s just not okay and 4. Be on time tomorrow. I did not protest for I knew it was all valid but just because it’s the truth doesn’t mean I have to like it! None the less, the intervention worked; I was not late this morning and rather proud. Though to be on time I definitely had to alter the time at which I wake up. Before today I usually woke up around eight twenty or a little before eight IF on the whim I had some self-control on said morning. Fact: My alarm on weekdays is always set for seven thirty-five and once it beeps I turn it off. What can I say? I like to get the ten to twenty minutes of extra sleep that overall never makes a difference in how tired you are. This morning I actually got up at seven thirty-five and to my satisfaction I was on time. According to the higher beings I am no longer allowed to be late and I must comply.

Journal.

brookester — Wed, 09 Apr 2008 19:06:02 +0000

He is the parasitic kind but a frigid parasitic. Always just close enough and perfectly far away yet never risking detachment. He must have created an invisible leash of sorts between us; the kind parents put their kids on at theme parks and malls. Dammit, he’s not my kid! I’m not a fan of leashes or brazen decisions, thus when I snapped at him and shooed him away in a permanent manner I felt no relief. My adamant attitude troubles me… my shrink says it’s a phase.

Definitions:

par·a·sit·ic – adjective

Of, relating to, or characteristic of parasite.
Caused by a parasite: parasitic diseases.

par·a·site – noun

an organism that lives on or in an organism of another species, known as the host, from the body of which it obtains nutriment.
a person who receives support, advantage, or the like, from another or others without giving any useful or proper return, as one who lives on the hospitality of others.
(in ancient Greece) a person who received free meals in return for amusing or impudent conversation, flattering remarks, etc.

Too much.

brookester — Mon, 07 Apr 2008 18:45:41 +0000

People always have too much on their minds. There is too much to think about.

This is what is on my mind:

Prom tickets. Calling back Kris concerning babysitting. Registering for Wil-Lo-Linn. Finishing the background check form for Wil-Lo-Linn. PCC orientation. My mom shutting up. Kelsey seeing my prom dress. Prom group, dinner and night. Being able to go to David’s after I finish the PCC orientation, Wil-Lo-Linn registeration and some laundry. Community service project. My lack of planning for said community service project. Being late every morning. Driving people around. Cleaning Barb’s desk. How to say no. Acrylics. Starbucks for lunch. Yearbook. Checking my calendar for this week. Getting rid of junk on my computer. Backing up my iTunes. Updating my iPod. Not biting my nails. Ice cream.

Most of the above items are those that generate stress but a select few of them are positive as compared to the negative majority. Typing out what is on my mind makes me: think of things I should be thinking about, create things to think about and makes my head spin. The whole thinking process is just frustrating and this feeling of being overwhelmed isn’t something I enjoy. I wish I was able to take one day and get everything I need to do DONE. Wipe my slate clean and know I’m not forgetting anything. It would be like breathing 100% clean air and all that clean air would travel through my veins and heart in turn clearing them out; internal refreshment.

Starting with the end.

brookester — Fri, 04 Apr 2008 19:16:37 +0000

I can assure you it was an authentic attempt. An authentic attempt to develop balance. To develop balance by becoming anchored. Becoming anchored to a series of simple rules. A series of simple rules that failed. Rules that failed to create what I desired. What I desired was a solution. A solution to smooth over the rough. Over the rough the doctor discovered. The doctor discovered missing childhood fundamentals. Childhood fundamentals that create foundations. That create foundations for an enriched life. An enriched life full of broad curriculum. Broad curriculum infused with teasing storks. Teasing storks that taunt you with what could be. What could be is my sanity. My sanity accompanied by natural landscapes. Natural landscapes issued by those artists in the books. Those artists in the books you admire. You admire the geography of perfection. The geography of perfection ignites your ability. Your ability to explore the strategies of self-teaching. Strategies of self-teaching stolen from the professionals. The professionals that were paid to spark a collaboration. A collaboration between the opposing forces. The opposing forces that are expected to lessen. Expected to lessen after the first month. The first month of every morning doses. Every morning doses that make alterations. Alterations that can be reversed with lax routines. With lax routines kicking you back to space number one. Space number one where I assured you my attempt was authentic.

Mark Twain.

brookester — Wed, 02 Apr 2008 19:15:10 +0000

In the Oregonian, in the Living section, on the first page of the two-page puzzle and comics spread Aces on Bridge is always printed in the upper right corner. I have no idea what Aces on Bridge is or what it refers to but above the start of the paragraph that accompanies the symbols, numbers a quote is printed in italics. Every weekday morning I grab one of the ten papers the school receives, take the out the Living section and then recycle the rest. I ditch the rest of the paper for two reasons: 1. I am not interested in any other section and 2. Barb’s unofficial rule is that once a paper is dissected it should be recycled; it’s a valid request. After retrieving the Living I scan the front page for any cool or eye catching pictures then turn to the back of the front page to read the celebrity quotes located in the top right corner; there are always two quotes. After that I find the two-page puzzle and comics spread and read the Ace on Bridge quote. Today’s quote is as follows:

“There is no sadder sight than a young pessimist, except an old optimist.” – Mark Twain

I agree with Mark on what is to the left of comma but not so much with what is to right of it. Optimism is a positive trait and I would think preferred in those who are elderly. Isn’t it better to be hopeful and happy as compared to morbid and sad? Thought: Placing the word would in front of think is rather absurd for it vaguely insinuates that I find Mr. Twain’s words to be law or always what is truth; I don’t. All quotes are open for interpretation.

After my routine I fold up the paper in my own special way so that the crossword faces outward and is ready to solved! Or at least ready for an attempt at being solved.

April Fools Day.

brookester — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 18:59:38 +0000

Let me fool you, my friend

Trick your mind

You may think I’m cruel

but the fools of April shield me

from your judgment

Once you know of my jokes

I hope you find me more kind

than cruel

For yes I am a kind person

but these fools of April

allow me to stray

Breaks and tumors.

brookester — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 18:56:22 +0000

Spring break was good! Everyday, including weekends, minus two non-consecutive days I hung out with David. I hung out with Kelsey three or fours times and not straying from non-break life talked to her everyday via text or phone call. I babysat my two favorite boys for two consecutive days and for the third took care of their dog. On Friday evening went shopping with Kelsey to peruse prom dresses and oddly enough we got lucky! We both found dresses in that one shopping trip. (Well really, I thought I had found my dress but on the following day when I went back with my mom to show her, etc. I realized my chest was rather exposed and the bra situation was just no good. Thus I had to search again, in the same store, but that time I actually got lucky and found thee dress! It’s solid bright lime green, has a balloon hem and a roused imperial waist. I think I look like a head of lettuce but a wonderful, pretty head of lettuce. I do believe it fits both my personality and after some alterations will also fit me physically well, too.) Kelsey’s dress is long, form-fitting and bright pink that looks beyond glamorous on her; the moment she put it on we both knew it was thee dress for her. Originally we were looking for dresses in darker shades for Kels but on a whim she picked the pink dress and ta-da! Together we will look like a watermelon. For three days I had relatives staying at my house which was rather awkward in the beginning for I had never met them before. It was my mom’s cousin, Brad, his wife, Terri and their horribly matted poodle, Sadie. But thanks to a good bath, face trimming, body and leg shaving plus an overdue brushing she left looking like a new woman! Driving for three days from northern California exhausted both Brad and Terri and such a trip would burn out any healthy being but considering both of them are rather sickly it pushed them to the limit. Brad has a benign tumor on his brain stem that has been with him for over ten years. Over those years it has forced him to need oxygen and constant rest. Terri had a heart attack a few months ago and is still recovering; the poor woman has five stints in her heart! Brad’s tumor was actually the root reason they visited because a friend of my dads is a premiere neurologist, who specializes in the skull base, at OHSU. So by using his connections my dad was able to get Brad an appointment with Dr. Johnny Delashaw, Jr., M.D. It’s not that Brad has not seen many, many other doctors but none of those said doctors have been able to give him hope for any improvement in his current way/quality of life. A rough sketch of his way of life is: sitting on the couch all day, oxygen tubes in his nose and in the afternoon spending time with is grandson. Dr. Delashaw did indeed give Brad and Terri hope, more her than him, but it’s the hope of being able to help him. Delashaw has a tool that is basically a GPS for your brain thus allowing him to tour Brad’s brain stem, etc and remove the tumor! Said tool is apparently both rare and extremely advanced in the brain surgery technology. The surgery would put him out for six or so months but with rest and rehabilitation Brad would be fully recovered in about a year. Considering both Brad and Terri have lived with the fear, frustration and stress for countless years I think they are willing to survive one more. The surgery of course has risks but according to Terri it’s worth a try; I admire her optimism. Fun Facts: Brad is obsessed with the Grateful Dead and Terri wants to open a craft store.

My spring break was wonderful and tumorful.

Continuum?

brookester — Thu, 20 Mar 2008 19:21:17 +0000

I have discovered I have trouble continuing stories, character studies, etc. I can start them perfectly fine and sometimes even get a whole page or two solid paragraphs. But then I leave it no ending attached. I am not sure if this is due to me not wanting to ruin what I started in fear of the continuum not the doing the beginning justice or if I’m just lazy. I have a feeling it much more the former than the latter. I just don’t want to risk messing up something I am fond of. Insightful Thought: If I looked at life like I look at my writing I would get no where. Getting no where meant both in a literal and mental way. If I was fond of how I felt when I woke up in the morning and I decided to stay in my bed all day to preserve my good mood I would end up not go to school, going to work, etc. I would be one absurd being; the concept makes me laugh. The concept also makes me think about extreme cases of OCD; for I know there are those out there who are cursed with such strong fear(s) that they don’t leave the environment are they accustomed to. They enjoy the feeling of being comfortable, but who doesn’t? Everyone wants to be comfortable in who they are, what they are and where they are. People with OCD just want to preserve the feeling of being comfortable. Insightful Thought: OCD is all about comfort. I guess I knew that but never really knew it. I wash my hands because it makes me feel better, makes me feel comfortable. But sometimes I think I just wash my hands because it’s so automatic for me. I know I could probably wait to wash but I don’t because it wouldn’t feel right. I assume it’s a good thing that I am aware of how irrational my fear is. When I had trouble starting and finishing my school work my mom used to tell me: Doing something will feel more right than doing nothing. That is 100% true. Even though I 100% agree with that wisdom it only kick started me a few times. When I had trouble doing my work I bluntly told my teachers, parents and shrink it was because I was/am lazy. I was convinced my apathy was the reason but all of them disagreed.

I titled this blog continuum for I started writing said blog with intent of expressing how I do not like that I can start stories or whatever but never continue them. People read what I write and say they want to know more but guess what? I don’t know what to add! Conundrum. Thought: I like that word. Conundrum. Perhaps I want to preserve my writing? Just like the preservation of the feeling of comfort? I act as though my writing is fine wine or some treasured fermented liquid.

Lydia.

brookester — Wed, 19 Mar 2008 19:24:22 +0000

A skinny figure that holds brutally honest opinions that either a) stay silent b) are expressed in discussion or c) are targeted and released to one specific person. She is like a metaphorical hunter on the 24/7 prowl constantly spotting victims and choosing her desired action. More often than not a) and b) are in effect and though she is fully capable of speaking her truth sometimes she just chooses not to. She does choose to wear massively holed Converse (previously black and now decorated to their fullest capacity); I assume she enjoys the ventilation. All of her ten fingers are home to one or more rings thus if she were hit, slap or perhaps even tap you it would most definitely hurt.