Blood

It doesn't matter.
Every Month
Feels the same physically
Emotions vary

one month I'm happy
Too happy. I explode with thrilling smiles

Another I cry. Shed tears like hairs everyday
When I see an old man buy an iPod for his wife.

A month later I'm yelling at you
For eating too loudly
you don't want to be around me
I'm lousy

Then again 30 days pass
I have no energy
And you could be getting married
And my mom could die.
I wouldn't care until 7 days later.

The blood stops and I am back to normal.

I would rather have a penis.

A story

FIrst a quick little blurb about what happened to me today. My brother and I went into Barnes and Noble today and read the start of a book together. It was a really awesome book btw. As we were leaving, my brother wanted to talk to the nook salesman because that was his old job. So he talked away and this kid came along and was playing on one of the nooks. He was an obnoxious kid talking about zelda, manga and then witnessing to us a little bit about Judah the Lion who is Jesus. (I didn't know that; funny how I knew about aslan though) Anyway, as we were leaving to make a phone call to mortgage guy, Kent, we bade farewell to our little 8 year old friend. He waved to my brother, but when he said goodbye to me, he took me by the hand and kissed it saying, "Farewell fond maiden." That made my day.  I want to cry at how special that simple act made me feel. Maybe because it was coming from someone so innocent or Maybe he does that to every girl that he meets, I don't know, but what I do know is that small act was so important to me.  That takes so much courage.

I want to write a story, but it seems like the only stories that I can come up with are love stories; they are all I can think about. Those fantasies of love that gather in my head but have no real place in reality. Like movies. All of the love stories seem so untrue. I guess that is why they are media. The bible is media, but tons and tons of people believe in Christ. The Koran is media, but tons of people believe in that. I don't know. I wish that more people would believe in love stories. Then they would have the same disappoint in believing in a faith I guess. It's all a delusion. I like living in the now and what is happening in front of my face by making choices. This is what I believe, but it is so hard for to forget all of my fantasies. I really can create my own love story if I so choose. That can happen with any guy really, but then when it becomes a reality I find out that he does not suit my fantasy. Oh it is a twisted conundrum. One that I think I enjoy living daily.

My story was forgotten in thought.

Barbie

I saw barbie today
Real life
Huge tits
Nice ass
Beautiful eyes
I saw barbie as it should be in a Picture

She's got this boyfriend Ken
A beef cake. The kind of man you want to bite into purposefully playful.
And Many jobs; I didn't know she was so talented
Graduating from vet school, and technical school and then also having a trust fund.
She's has all the latest tights, striped jackets, polka dot pullovers
Shoes... She walks miles, new pair each step.

Thing is.
She's in a box.

Offspring

Happy accidents.

There was a car crash off of Rt 322.
What an accident.
4 car pile up with a tractor trailer of oil
Involved in an explosion killing 4 people.
Heaven?

My cousin is thirsty.
Her favorite drink is milk
And she opens the fridge
pours milk from gallon.
Being only 9 it's too heavy
White juice covers the floor, her clothes, the counters
As my aunt sprays anger everywhere
"It was an accident."

David wakes up and starts crying.
The snake monster was chasing him
He couldn't get away, but was relieved
To be back in his room.
"MOM" but she is out to dinner.
Kelly runs quickly to the room noticing the wet stain on the bed
"It's okay, accidents happen" as she removes the foul sheets.

In the gut, next to the intestines, near the bladder
there is a small human being
leaching to her umbilical cord
Feeding life into this creature.
A happy accident
But a sad new mother.

happi

ness- suffix which makes something a noun
mon- slang term for man
ster- denotating a person having a particular quality
cow- mammal who produces milk to its young and the masses
boys- male children
ass- a buttocks; a donkey
i- me or you depending on the point of view
nation- group of people under one government rule
con- to trick someone into doing something
nectar- just because it tastes sweet
tion- and we're forming more nouns who have certain -sters

I wrote this.

Home

It's funny how even the wording of blogger.com is funny. When I signed in it said I was home.

Right now I do not have a home. It's scary, but thrilling.

Right Now I don't even have a job. It's freedom, but pending doom.

My best option?

Idk.

I feel like I want something solid in my life right now. THat is why I like joe again. He is a solid fantasy. Something that is completely intangible except for in my mind. I want to do so many things with my life. But I want a job first. But I want a home first. But I want blah blah blah. So part of the american culture is saying that I should just drop everything and do it. Just go for your dreams. Frankly my dreams are irrealistic. I meant to spell it that way too.

Unfortunately. I do not know if I actually like joe or I am going through so many changes that he is just a solid part of my life. It's probably one of those many foggy areas I have when it comes to interactions with other people.

I think that I spend too much time thinking that people are deep and have ulterior motives because I know that I do and this is why I project these things onto others. Nothing is ever simple with me. I think that makes me a bit neurotic. Like even right now I am over analyzing the simplicity of a phrase that sifted into my head, "I like to write" My over analysis says, be a writer, no you shouldn't you are not good enough, yes you are, when you write, if you can even get through this page. No one wants to read it anyway. So you're just writing for you, oh how cliche. This internal dialogue persistently nags at me like a cat loves you right before you are about to feed her. And she loves you so much, she rubs your leg and mews the sweetest mews until she gets old and can't mew anymore she just has a 'gravel' voice, but she will always have those sweet eyes looking up at you until she goes blind, but when she goes blind she isn't even hungry anymore because she is going to die anyway. That's what this nagging is in my head. Because I have this inner voice, I assume everyone does. So I don't like talking to people a lot because of the inner dialogue and ulterior motives. I can't just think someone is simple.

I have warts. 1 on my hand and I found another on my foot. FUCK> HPV virus. I am tainted and gross now. I want them to go away. Grr. Nothing gets rid of them so I am trying duct tape.

Wish me luck and less thought.

Low

I have feelings of low self worth right now.
I am a good person, but I don't leave the house.
I don't leave the house because I don't feel worth it.
I don't feel worth it because I don't leave the house.
It is kind of this vicious cycle.
The outside world could harm me very badly.
Therefore I am unwilling to leave the house.
But inside the house is slowly hurting me by damaging
My self worth.
The internet is not helping my self worth either.
I look for jobs.
Apply
Send resume
Send cover letter.
Send my hope.
Only to not here back from anyone.
Like I don't exist even on the internet.
Which is kind of funny because there is so much on here nowadays.
That I quite literally don't exist.
Only to me
And I am unwilling to even share anything else with anyone.

It seems like I like to start a new line whenever I feel like it. This makes for a "poem"
I shouldn't even categorize this as a poem.
It's just a bunch of babble where I am telling and not SHOWing
Let me try to show you.
Picture me as a creature with a long tail, tiny ears, little hands and quick.
I search for food.
I search and search and search.
I might even find this food.
So I find this food and eat it.
This is my life and I am content.
Problem is I am not just an animal because I have emotions.
Sure we have a million years of evolution and we are still animals sylvia,
but we have all these emotions and don't know what to do with them.
We decided we had to communicate.
This expression led to more things than i would like to handle being
A small creature with a long tail, tiny ears, little hands and quick.
I have no qualities to live how I can express that I want to live.
Let's delve further.
I have the potential and qualities, but I don't have the means of obtaining.
a. money
b. my thoughts
c. my inherent survival need is not being fulfilled.

Shit. I need to get my needs fulfilled.

Nausea

I have felt a little bit of sickness all day today. Nausea. Tonight I actually vomited. 4 times. I have pains in my stomach and I have my period. All of these things culminating are not pleasant at all. I forgot about my ankle being messed up too. LIke I pulled a muscle in my foot or seomthing. It hurts. I hurt all over.

Oh well. This too shall pass.

I am embarking on the journey to south carolina tomorrow and I am a little nervous. I guess I should be. At the same time, I'm not at all and I don't care almost. I find that I am not nervous about getting a job. I am not nervous about anything right now. I should be. I think I will write a narrative poem.

I don't feel like it. Writing a poem. I don't feel like journaling. I'm becoming numb again. :/ concerning. I think it is partly because I feel so sick though. I want to lie in bed all day. oh no.

Think sick

So my body is thinking I am sick producing extra mucous.
My mind thinks my head hurts.
My heart thinks that having fun is great and instant, but not meaningful.
My feet thinks its too cold for spring
My hands think this typing is pointless.
My elbows know this table is too hard.
My eyes think that the lights are bright shining off the leaves.
My mouth thinks it chews too slow.
My stomach thinks this food is delicious.
My teeth hates how good food cause cavities.
I'm thinking sick

Anger

I am so angry right now I could just sit here and muster about being angry. My anger is directed towards my mother. She was cleaning my room and wouldn't you know it found my purse that had pot in it. I hate her. DON"T GO THROUGH MY FUCKING STUFF BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT A PART OF THAT PART OF MY LIFE YOU SNOOPER YOU. I do not want to call my mother any harsh names because in the end I know she loves me, but honestly do I want to have a grown up friendship who snoops through my things?

If she would ever mention that to me in any way, I think I would tell her I know she was snooping on me and I do not appreciate that as a grown up making choices of my own.

I know that she wasn't snooping either. She was cleaning and probably stumbled upon something she didn't want to find. oh well.

I am so pissed right now and I don't know how to calm down. There are parts to my life that I can't share with you because I know that if I did you would judge me. If you didn't judge me then you would pester me with check your blind spot... and I love that part about you it is just with certain things it is better that you don't know for your own good.

I would never tell you who I have sex with because we don't have that kind of relationship. some moms and daughters do. we don't.

I just need to accept it and move on with more caution.

Writing

I have all these ideas for writing and I will start them. I will start the first couple paragraphs. Then I will not write anymore. I think there was this learned behavior that I told myself I am not good enough to write a story, so I have not written a story since that time. I need to keep telling myself to finish shit. If I do not keep telling myself that then I will not finish anything I start.

Seriously, I tell myself I should just do it because i have these thoughts where I do finish things, but when it comes down to it, part of me believes something different. I almost don't believe in stories unless they are real. Weird I know. I grew up loving fiction and fantasy, but now that I have grown up fake stories, even realistic fiction are stupid. I know that alot of realistic fiction tries to teach a lesson, but I always think that the lesson I have to teach is stupid because everyone already knows that lesson. I think the truth is that people do not know the lessons now that I think about. Some people can't put into words the lessons that I know and can describe.


Well until next time, remember to tell yourself to just do it. alright hunny?

Done

Poem

Well I'm not completely

Because
My hands are still typing
And the paper needs some middle portions
I am not dead yet
The dishes still need to be washed
I have go on a date with Josh
Kiss Anne and Tina before
I need to finish that book
Move to South Carolina
Have lover, husband or partnership
Surf the SC waves
There is that story I needed to finish
The boy I needed to kiss
Clothes that needed purchasing
Because Well I'm not completely

Done.

Feeling worth it

Lately, I have not been feeling worth the life I have.

I used to think that life had this grand scheme planned out for me. That I would do something worth something to somebody or group of people. I don't know my thoughts anymore except that I don't feel like I could contribute anything substantial. This way of thinking really gets me down in the basement with the water heater and the electric box, but everything has it's place. Even this sadness and worthlessness in the basement of my emotions has it's place.  Sometimes I just don't know my place because I can't meet every person and I can't.

Why can't I meet every person? Who says that I can't fly around the world and meet the population? What about if it is just US?

being average is being perfect biologically and genetically :)

I'm a little random tonight.

On the grind

Well it was another day at school. There are always highs and lows- the same as everyday. Found a book though that made me smile: The three signs of a miserable job by Patrick Lencioni. Started reading it and felt like I was absorbing it through my skin. It makes me look at my life and look at all the aspects in my life. I just started so I am not sure if the book is correct, but I do not want to make my job my life.

On the grind

Wearing DC shoes, I speed with my board

Out the door, on the sidewalk to the tennis court

Ollies, grinding kick flips and 180 pushes.

Hat must be worn at all times.

Employees must wash hands before leaving

Another day at the Maxwell, coffee makes me vomit now.

The sun shines down and the A/C is broken.

Company will not pay for repairs 'at the moment'

The student's shifting shakes the car.

I'll continue this later.

Post 1 May 26, 2011 (don't know if the date is include, but this needed to go down in the history of Bre

I wanted to start off corny and try to downplay my life for the start of my blog; What better way than with a selfish limerick?

There was young lady a-cryin'
She couldn't get over a'dyin'
The thought popped in her head
From mornin' sun to bed,
Angst and futility the theme underlyin'

Oh lord, grow up Bre.

I guess that I wrote this poem today because I had such a weird day. Went to a minor league baseball game with little chilluns and had a blast. Did not burn one single part of my body, but my earlobes. That scores ten points in the book of life by the way. Only burning your ears. Yeah. High ten points up on the scoreboard.

The chillun are awesome even if they are little pieces of green things that you pick out of that delicious appetizer because you don't know what they are and sometimes have this weird taste.

Well. This blog gives me a weird taste right now. Enjoy the limerick.