Ruminations

As I read all of the blog posts and articles reminiscing over the past year and getting me all hyped for the new year (snicker), I have come to my yearly contemplation of …….

WAIT FOR IIIIIIIIIIIIT....
WAIT FOR IIIIIIIIIIIIT….

Freakin’ New Year’s resolutions, dawg.  They’re kind of a big pain in the butt.  Think of something you want to change (a.k.a. admit I’m not perfect–pshaaw) pretend you actually care about it for a whole two weeks (maybe just two days) and then start all over fifty weeks later when you are in almost the exact same position.

Don’t get me wrong, there are some people out there who really need to get some stuff sorted out.  But, for reals, don’t kid yourself.  It’s rude.  It’s annoying.  And maybe a little–

Brittany.

Ah, yes.  Where are my manners?

Honestly, it’s not that I don’t think change will be good, it’s that I don’t see why this will be different from any other year.

But I suppose it’s all about looking back and seeing what you don’t like and going forward with the promise of…. hope?  Change?  Betterment?  (Is that a thing?)  You hear it over and over again, “be the change you want to see”, “make the change happen”, and whatever Obama’s slogan was…  And BASICALLY what it comes down to is whether or not you want to do it.  Maybe you want the change, but are you willing to put forth the effort to make that change.  Maybe if you’re not able to put forth the effort you aren’t ready to have that change in your life.

With that little diatribe in mind (and I was preaching to the choir here), maybe resolutions aren’t as cracked and whacked as I make them out to be sometimes.  Maybe, this little query of mine is something that has been put in my mind for a reason.  Perhaps it’s time for CHANGE.  (Was that Obama’s slogan?  Kind of to the point.)  Maybe it’s time I really looked at what needs to be changed, what needs to be revised, what needs to be fixed.  And I need to put forth the effort to get myself there.  Otherwise, I’m just stagnant water.  And if you guys don’t know, that means I would become like the swamp monster or something cuz I’d just have a bunch of algae growing out of my…. pores.

Ain't nobody got time for that!
Ain’t nobody got time for that!

And with that I bid you, adieu.  (Is that right, Nanners?)

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Freakin’ Life Man

And basically that’s how I feel.  When I’m happy it’s because of life.  When I’m all pissed off it’s because of life.  I don’t even know what the point of this post is.  Freakin’ life man.

So basically (what the heck does basically even mean?) everyone around me is being super creative and all artistic and I was all left out and I wanted to make a run on sentence something artistic too.  So I started crocheting again.  Like hard core.  Like my fingers have sores on them from where my crocheting needle has hit, and I stay up until two o’ clock in the morning because I keep thinking, one more round (except I think it 67 times in a row :0).  But, if I’m going to buy seventy dollars worth of crocheting stuff and drag my five-year-old brother along to do it with me, I better make it worth it.

Funny story by the way, do NOT give a five-year-old, overly active boy a Dr. Pepper and ice cream cone if you value your sanity and energy.  I freakin’ love my brother.

I was actually making this super awesome scarf but miscalculated (didn’t calculate) the amount of yarn I needed and so instead of getting more yarn to finish it, I started making a blanket.  Which looks sexy.  If blankets could indeed be sexy.

I also bought needles and thread because I like to sew but I have nothing to sew.  Poop that overlookment.

I have also looked into quilting as a pasttime.  My parents do it and it looks like great fun.  Unfortunately I have run into a few impediments:  my general lack of know-how about a sewing machine (I only sew by hand), my general lack of knowledge about quilting, and my general lack of common sense that prevents me from teaching myself like a smart kid would.  (Nuclear equations, those I got down.  Bascially because it doesn’t help anyone.)

I got some good books for Christmas/birthday that I can’t wait to dig in to.  Actually, I have already started reading one.  My decline in reading speed is astounding.  I will change that indeed.  Can’t have a normal reading speed.  I won’t be as cocky about something useless like reading-speed anymore.  And that would mean…. gasp.  I think I would have to be humble about something!!!!  Aaaaah!  Even this paragraph is condescending.  Oh, snap!!!

Freakin’ life has played it so that I feel guilty about being bored, so—it smells like Subway in our house.  Why does it smell like Subway in our house?  I want Subway!  How late does Subway smell open?

Hmmm…. I forgot what I was talking about.  I keep juxtaposing and integrating words in the wrong manner.  I’m all sorts of wacky write now.

But, I got these really cool bright pink trunks that match my bright pink Nike Airs that I wore to prom.  Now I’ve turned into an interior designer.  I can picture these really cool rooms for my apartment that I don’t have.  And it’s AWESOME. Basically legit.

And with that I am going to say, be prepared people.  Once I get passed my the-zombie-apocalypse-didn’t-happen-and-now-I-look-like-a-fool-and-I-may-be-a-little-disappointed-about-it funk (Nolan Gerard Funk–Google image, you won’t be disappointed) now I’m all thinking about the hottest guy since Miles Austin…. Hmmm… I don’t think Miles Austin and Nolan Funk can be compared they are so different but both so hot oh my gersh i am acting like a teenage girl what has happened to my dignity

 

Me. Now. Looking. At. You.
Me. Now. Looking. At. You.

Thoughts I’ve Had

Due to my general lack of creativity and personality at the moment, I’ll just share something I wrote back in high school.  So long ago…..

This first section is a selection of quotes from my government dual credit discussions we had every week.  Unfortunately I didn’t save the prompts with them, but I think you can still appreciate the humor.  Really, it’s just proof that I was focused on the important things, even back then.

” It’s like….football.  You’re making a fantasy football team.  You want to pick the players that are going to get you the most points, right?  You are not going to pick David Garrard (the not so great QB) over Vick (the QB that gives defenses nightmares).  Vick is the one that will get you farther, will benefit your team more.  It’s the same thing in government.  You have to pick and choose the best.  Both are good quarterbacks.  One is better than the other though.  There are going to be compromises.  And lastly, no one is ever completely satisfied.  Ever.  It’s just not going to happen.  There is always someone who wants more even if it isn’t necessarily what is best.  Terrell Owens, when he was on the Cowboys, was never satisfied with how many catches he got.  Well, if he’s being covered well by defenders, he’s not going to have the ball thrown to him as much.  He wasn’t happy with the fact that he was having a 1,000 yard season and pulling away defenders from the other guys like Patrick Crayton who weren’t so good at getting open.  Nope.  It had to be his way or the high way.  (He ended up taking up taking the high way.)  The people who walked out of the convention or refused to sign, they’re the Terrell Owens of the 18th centry.  They weren’t happy and they were going to throw a fit about it even though the Constitution shaped out to be a pretty sweet deal for everyone.  And, hey, if you don’t like it, there are other countries in the world.”

“If they [Congress] tried to draft a law or something to take complete control, the president would not approve it because he already has so little power anyway.  Unless it was some really daft airhead who’s used to being told what to do anyway like Kris Jenner.  And who would vote for someone related to the Kardashians?”

“The Congress is like (another football analogy) our general manager, the president our coach (not all coaches lead us to victory), the courts our referees (no one did ever like those guys).  Like any team, if they can’t all stay within their realm but still find a way to work together and make sure everything is running smoothly, the league goes to…..baseball.  Just kind of kidding.  But seriously, if the coach makes all the calls the players are run to death and good for nothing, if the general manager makes all the calls then we’ll get no where because they’re all just about the money.  If refs make all the calls….. I don’t want to think about that.  The key to a successful team, I mean government, is to make sure all the key components pull their fair share and work together for the good of the game and the players.  (Is there any way Jerry Jones can read this, please?)”

Basically we can learn from this that I learned nothing from government and I was obviously busier thinking about other more important things than whether or not the president really has power.  Or who the president is.  Around the time I wrote these posts for government, I also got ten bonus points on a English reading quiz for answering the question, “What is the first line of the song on page 60?”  with all of Miles Austin’s stats I could think of at the time.  I.e. I wrote really small and the whole page was covered.  I knew where the real information was people.  nfl.com

Sister

Sometimes I can’t help but feel helpless.

She says she can’t act,

but,

I’ve never seen one better.

Always saying without saying,

“I’m okay, I’m okay.”

Always looking fine,

just worried about school.

Always looking fine,

but I miss the signs.

Bags under the eyes.

Just tired.

Just tired.

Not wanting to sleep.

Just homework.

Just homework.

Sad look in her eyes.

Just stressed.

Just stressed.

Disinterested.

But,

just changed her mind.

Distant.

All my fault.

Who’s fault?

“God won’t give you something you can’t handle.”

Lies.  Lies.

“There is beauty in life.”

I just see pain.

She’s just sick.

She made herself this way.

She made herself this way

for a reason.

I feel anger.

I feel the need to be

strong,

there,

present.

But,

I’m not

good enough?

What does she need?

I

feel….

it doesn’t matter.

Not me.

Her.

But,

how?

Just lost.

Just lost.

Broken.

“Picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor.”

Picture perfect.

No.

Tainted.

Somewhere.

Always something off.

Hard to see.

But always there.

Like a demon on our shoulder.

Can’t enter,

but causes hell all the same.

I just want it to be okay!!

I just want to fix it!!

But how do you shake it?

“Dog days are over.”

No.

NO.

How do you say I’m here,

when you’re not really?

How do you say you’re fine,

when you know it’s a lie?

How do you tell the truth,

when it just hurts everyone?

Listen to music.

Escape reality.

Fantasize.

You head it on the head.

Dad.

Non-existent.

I needed you,

you weren’t there.

Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

“I’m starting with the man in the mirror.”

Selfish.

Selfish.

Perfection.

Can’t stop until perfection.

Redo it.

Not straight.

Too slow.

Lazy.

Fat.

Bitch.

Me.

Hannah.

Not crazy.

No.

NO.

Hannah.

Not good enough.

Yes.

Yes.

Hannah.

Hurt.

Healing?

Help.

I can’t.

Trust.

I hope.

Believe.

I, in you.

Just want to make it better.

Just want you to be happy.

Yes.

Truly happy.

I drown my sadness.

You avoid yours.

I blow out my frustration

like smoke.

You absorb it.

I sweat out my loneliness.

All too busy to notice yours.

“I’m messed up, and you’re broken.”

“Those shots we fired are still smoking.”

Still smoking.

Still shooting.

Still

messed

up.

Still

broken.

Don’t suck it up.

Big girls do cry.

Black holes swallow all light.

Who’s to blame?

You.

Me.

The guy next door.

The girl upstairs.

The guy in prison.

The girl at school.

The teacher,

procrastinator,

workaholic,

controller,

busy-body,

apathetic.

Devotion to pain.

Seeing, but not changing.

No words.

Just feelings.

Just feelings.

“There will be beauty through pain.”

Deer eyes.

Cascading hair.

One, two.

Smart.

Artistic.

Three, four.

Caring.

God-loving.

Five, six.

Passionate.

Hard-working.

Seven, eight.

Looks deep.

Understanding.

Nine, ten.

Funny.

Quick.

Eleven, twelve.

Not yet impure.

Not yet hardened.

Not yet insensitive.

Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.

Talented.

Down to earth.

Kind.

Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen.

Hannah.

Nineteen.

Sometimes I can’t help but feel helpless.

Picture perfect.

No.

But,

it doesn’t exist anyway.

Doesn’t

exist.

We do.

Worst Hate Crime

WP_000005 WP_000006 WP_000007 WP_000008 WP_000009I’ve been struggling a lot recently to keep my mood up.  It’s not so easy to just choose to be happy like everybody makes it out to be.  When I got kicked out, I wasn’t very upset really.  It ended up being a late night and a lot of moving.  But I didn’t cry.  I didn’t cry the next day, or the day after that, or the day after that.  I kind of surprised myself by my own lack of emotion.  I didn’t cry at my graduation.  I didn’t cry when I was discharged.  I didn’t cry when my dad told me I was making the biggest mistake of my life by moving in with my mom.  I never cried when he called me stupid, immature, fat, “just like your mother”, ungrateful, or even bitch.  I didn’t even cry when he said he didn’t want to talk to me anymore.  I was hurt, and I got a little choked up, but it was all okay.  I pulled myself out before I could actually put the effort into crying.

Now, this past weekend I traveled with my mom back to Canyon to pick up the rest of my stuff.  My grandpa was awesome and drove us down in his truck and helped us load everything up and fed us dinner.  Darla, my stepmom, tried to lecture me when she saw me about how they were the victims and I was the super villian but I just told her we would pull around to the alley way even though she said the week before that my stuff had been moved out of there.  Excuse me, but I have to rant a little here.  She has always preached and preached about how she just hates liars.  HATES them.  She’s lied to me soooo many times. “Your stuff has been moved out of the storage building you need to get it out.”  “I’m not trying to be mean.” “I love you.”  Get over yourself.  Anyways, I was completely fine then.  A little annoyed, but fine.  I wasn’t hurt over the fact that my dad really didn’t even see me.  At least he means what he says though.

I get home Sunday evening and get ready for work.  I get off a little after ten.  I run to Wal-Mart to get some hangers.  I figured having all of my books, I would need to hang all of my clothes so I can put my books somewhere until I get bookcases.  After all, I have over a hundred books.  I finally get home past eleven and carry all the boxes inside.  After opening three of them I’m starting to get pissed off because none of the boxes have had any of my books in them.  Then I finally get to the last box.  And it had books in it alright.  And almost every single one had water damage.  And you know what I did?  I put my pajamas on and went to bed.  I couldn’t do anything but lay down and cry.  I felt so defeated.

This morning when I got up I figured I would be able to look at it calmer.  But I just cried and seriously debated calling a lawyer.  Thankfully my mom talked me out of that, sort of.  The thing about my books is that they were always my escape.  They made me laugh and cry and happy and sad.  I would stay up late waiting for my parents to go to bed so I could turn on a light and read some more.  I have a lot of memories that I associate with the books I was reading at that time.  I have always had my books.  And they were ruined.  I don’t even know how to explain to everybody that I don’t want them replaced.  I want these.  I sounds material and stupid.  You don’t have to tell me.  But it is what it is.  It was all okay until now.  Until now, it was just the way the cookie crumbles.  Now, it feels like nothing more than a hate crime.

I emailed Darla pictures of my books.  I told her I would be paying her nothing out of compensation for them firstly, not giving me anywhere close to all of my books, and secondly for ruining the few I had left.   Congratulations.  You finally made me cry.

Beauty

Find light in the beautiful sea.  I choose to be happy.  You and I, you and I.  We’re like diamonds in the sky

You’re a shooting star I see.  A vision of ecstasy.  When you hold me I’m alive.  We’re like diamonds in the sky

I knew we’d become one right away.  Oh, right away.  At first sight I left the energy of sun rays.  I saw the life inside your eyes

So shine bright, tonight you and I.  We’re beautiful like diamonds in the sky.  Eye to eye, so alive.  We’re beautiful like diamonds in the sky.

Shine bright like a diamond.

Shine bright like a diamond.

Shine bright like a diamond.

We’re beautiful like diamonds in the sky.

 

 

(Diamonds by Rihanna)

Ugliness, Like Your Face

Ugliness, Like Your Face

I’m still battling writer’s block right now.  I really just need to get a life.  But, until then, I’m going to keep using prompts from google.  Today I’m supposed to write about something ugly but find beauty in it.  Deep.  I’m feeling a corny post coming on.  Beware.

I feel like most people would pick something like war or hate or jealousy.  But, you know what I think is ugly?  Family.  Friends.  Ugliest mother hovers ever.  I know what you’re thinking.  Probably something along the lines of, “I love my family!!! How could you say that?  You’re family is great…” Blah, blah.  You know, the usual stuff people tell ungrateful teenagers.  I’m not ungrateful, really.  I promise.  I love my family.  I even like most of them.  But not without pain.

Most people get along with their family for the most part.  Right?  Wrong.  Who hasn’t had a “sisterly spat” or “brotherly brawl” or “parent problems”?  “Everybody”.  (I “figured” I was “overusing” quotation marks “anyhow”.)  But seriously.  NO ONE GETS ALONG WITH THEIR FAMILY 24/7.  Whoa, caps lock.  I think my computer, Felix, agrees.  I guess he doesn’t get along with the other HP computers. NO I DON’T.  Hmmmm…  I mean, have you ever taken a step back and looked at your family?  I’m sure everyone does it at some point or another.  Do you ever think, if I wasn’t forced to be around them, I would never be around them?  Because I’m not going to sit here and lie to you and say I haven’t.  Do I sound cold?  I’m in the mood for coldness I guess and damn Jack Frost refuses to show up.  Guess the job falls to me.

Like I said, I really love my family.  My sister is my best friend in the whole wide world.  I enjoy playing around with my siblings and hanging out with my cousins.  But it’s like when you look at your best friend and think, “My God.  How did we ever become friends?”

I guess this just leaves the question, why the hell am I put with such strong, opinionated, and damn intelligent people?  We drive each other batty.  We are practically all the exact same person.  Or I feel that way.  Especially my sister, Hannnah, and I.  We don’t just finish each other’s sentences.  We say what the other one was about to say.  Which is really annoying.  Imagine having someone around who always said what you were going to say, right before you said it.  I suppose it goes both ways.  We get the same ideas and literally race each other to claim rights to it.  And of course, we say the same thing at the exact same time at least once a day.  So annoying.  So dummy.  Say the wrong thing, and the wrong….

Anyhow, I’m obviously just having trouble writing this post right now.

So, the beauty in it, yes.  Well, I can look at her and she knows exactly what I’m thinking.  We have no need for a secret language, though we have tried to make one up.  Sure we get all up in each other’s grill and ain’t nobody got time for that and all…. But basically what I’m saying is family sucks.  I mean this Pandora station is making me angry.

Family is awesome.  I’m choosing to be happy right now.  Family is awesome.  My dad sucks.  But I guess it sucks to suck, right?  I’m sounding like a troubled juvy kid.  Rawr.  I really love my family.  I do.  I like some of them.  Most of them.  But why do you get put with who you get put with?  Why?  There must be something for you to offer them.  But what?  For me it is a question I still haven’t been able to answer.  To clean?  To bring honor?  To make them proud?  To teach a lesson?  What’s going on with life these days?  It’s all confusing and frustrating.

“Shine bright like diamond.  Shine bright like diamond.  So shine bright, you and I.  We’re beautiful like diamonds in the sky.”

Poop in my cheerios.  With no milk.