Question: How Can You Write So Much?

New section. Judging by the poll results so far, you all like my stories. So I will be posting more of those. However, I am looking to you for help on the topics. I get asked a lot of questions all the time (which I don't mind) so I'm going to start answering them. Some will be hella long stories like this one and others short responses. So ask away and I'll see what I can do for you. Send me an email or leave a question in the comment area (you can do so without signing your name if you really want to) and I will start answering.

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The Question: How Can You Write So Much?

The Answer:

There is one person (and one class) to thank for my ability to write 3-6,000 words every day in the matter of hours for you all to read and enjoy. She was my AP English Literature and Composition teacher I had my Senior year of high school. But before I jump into how this teacher prepared me for such situations as composing two drastically different fanfics just off the top of my head as well as maintaining a blog of jokes, poetry, and stories, let me explain some of the background story involved.

In my high school (or most with these available classes) there was a progression started your Freshman year. Should you prove 'gifted enough', you were placed in an English I Honors course. Your Sophomore year, it became and English II Honors course. Then Junior year, it became Pre-AP American Literature course. (AP meaning advanced placement or college/uni course you could take while still in high school) Then something magical happened Senior year. You were given a choice. Take English Lit/Comp III Honors or AP English Lit/Comp. Why was there suddenly a choice? Because it was the school's way of attempting not to either fail half of the senior class or prevent them from dropping out of school completely.

I confess now that I had no desire to take the AP class, but I succumbed to peer pressure and found myself enrolling in it despite the numerous horror stories that had been fed to me since my very first day of school three years prior. To further explain, when one teacher starts lecturing a student for not paying attention in their class and doing work for another, the lecture immediately stops once the name 'Bonnick' is mentioned. The lecturing teacher cowers and returns his or her attention to the rest of the class, leaving the one to continue their AP studies without further interference. Another example is a Facebook page entitled “Come Hell or High Water... or FCAT.. or Death, I MUST go to Bonnick's Class”. Yes, you can look it up. It does exist.

Why was this class and teacher so dreaded? Look at the latest response on the Facebook page's wall. “Three chapter responses, a revised essay, and a poetry response... all due Monday!” You see, I'm not talking about a paper or two due every week. No, no, no. There is much, much more. So let me run down the list of what all is entailed in this Monday through Friday, 90 minute class.

Firstly, every single day starts out with either a poem or exert from a short story which we are given 45 minutes to read, analyze, and write a five paragraph essay in response to. So right off the bat, that is five essays a week. Then comes the take home essays. Two of those a week. We are also assigned to read a total of 12 classic novels and write bi-weekly essays on those as well. That brings the total up to nine essays. However, these are not just any essays. These... are perfection.

Should you use past tense when writing an essay, that would result in ten points off your grade. Contractions (I'm, You're, They're), ten points off. Use a 'be' verb (is, are, was, or were) that is another ten points off your grade. Each! Use a linking verb (verbs that do not show action: The cat looked happy), you guessed it, another ten points off your grade. Now, use a comma splice or improper usage of a semi-colon... twenty points off. Use the words 'you', 'I', 'us', or 'we', the same twenty points off your grade. After tallying all of those up, then she would grade your paper from there on content. I can honestly say that it took me thirty minutes just to write just an introductory paragraph for one essay.

But those are just the essays (most of them anyway). You see, in the class itself (after the in class essay), we don't actually do much because our time is spent listening and giving presentations. Everyday. Poetry presentations, completely with visual aides and copies to pass out to the class, were done at least once a week if not twice. On top of those, we head back to those novels we were required to read. After taking two tests on each, the class was lead by fellow students to then teach the book to each other through a presentation referred to as a seminar.

In these seminars, we were assigned topics: characters, author biography, background history, literary techniques, setting, theme, plot, etc. All of which we were to teach to the class using visual aides, class participation, costumes (yes, we had to dress up... which leads me to another story about dropping my pants in front of my class...), music, and food and drinks. This happened over a two day period and was followed by a third test and you guessed it, another in-class essay.

If you think this class is about wrapped up, you are terrible mistaken and this blog entry may in fact rival that first chapter of the story “There's Always Tomorrow”. Because we have yet to cover mid-terms, mid-term projects, and AP reviews. So lets start with the mid-term. The final for this class is an AP test to see if we qualify for actual college/uni credits. It's a four hour test taken at the end of the semester and we get the whole day off from school for it. The mid-term, however, is a previous year's version of this AP test. The problem with that... is it is four hours long! How can you take a four hour test when we only have class for 90 minutes a day? You can't. Not during the week that is. Yep. We were REQUIRED to show up at school for more than four hours on a Saturday to take our mid-term. Suckiest way to spend your weekend ever, I'll tell you that much. That test, by the way, was not just multiple choice but also short response and accompanied by an additional two essays.

The second thing left to cover is the mid-term project which is actually a list of 50-100 literary techniques (juxtaposition, paradox, pathetic fallacy, quibble) that we were to define, lists uses for, and give examples of using only the material, books, poems, short stories, and other crap that we had gone over with that semester. I think mine ended up being over ten pages long and I didn't even do it all. I gave up. I admit it. I turned into a slacker.

And lastly, were those damn AP review sessions. They were held after school released and started at either three o'clock and went to five, or started at five o'clock and went to seven. Don't think it's required to attend an after school study session? Neither did I. Until that is, I didn't go to one and the teacher actually called my cell phone at home to find out why I didn't show up. Yeah, that was weird. But yes. That class and that teacher is my answer for your question of how in the world can I seem to write so much, so often (this post is over 1,300 words itself).

As my final note. Should this teacher ever read anything that I have written... not only would she pray for my sinful ways, but she would then kill me so there was no proof that I was ever one of her pupils that actually passed her class. She would have given me straight F's on everything you have had the 'pleasure' of reading from me. Especially seeing as that last sentence was written in the past tense... And I used 'was' in the sentence after that... And 'I' in the one after that.

Not for the Religiously Inclined

Getting back into the swing of things and once again hitting on the topic of school. Also, put up a poll in the side bar to see what you all are interested in. Just testing the waters.

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In high school, our American Lit teacher required us to make a presentation on a Bible story. Now, I'm leaving all references of the 'separation of church and state' out of this story, or the fact that we were only allowed to use the New Testament regardless of our own religious preference. This story is more about a friend I took this class with. She came from a very alternative family compared to most and when given the assignment, she struggled, mostly because she had never read the Bible and had no clue as to what most of the stories were about.

Yet as typical high school students, we procrastinated and waited until the day before our presentations were due to actually work on them, taking every free minute we had to piece together the three to five minute explination and speech. We sat outside at lunch, eating and working; my friend with The Bible in hand. (A piece of information you will need is that our high school was near a beach and was therefore plagued with seagulls flying around in search of left over fries from the cafeteria or that little piece of a sandwich that someone dropped and never bothered to pick up. Dozens if not hundreds of them everywhere.)

So, there we were, sitting on the ground surrounded by notebooks and the 'holiest book in the world', with seagulls flying above, when this happens.

Friend 1: (Slams her fist down on the Bible and looks up at the seagulls, pointing her index finger at them) I swear to God, if you fucking birds shit on this Bible, I will kill you.

Me: (turns to look at friend 2 with an equally shocked expression) How many commandments do you think she broke with that single sentence?

Friend 2: She took Gods name in vain, she cursed, and she threatened a life.

Me: (looking back at friend 1) You're going to Hell.

Friend 1: (rolling her eyes) Whatever. Not like either of you two are Saints.

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In the Shadows

Have you ever been so lonely,

that you see faces in the shadows?

They look back and see you too,

and all the things you don't show?

That hidden behind a facade of peace

churns a stirring tide of affliction?

And that you've been pushed aside and ignored at times;

suffocating in self-restrictions,

because self-assumptions of failing notions

now impede all your attempts at flying

high above the mundane world

and all the let downs you'd be denying?

Updated Photo!

Alrighty. I finally got around to getting it. I love the white ink. It's there without being obvious. I've only had a few people at work notice it and that was right after I got it done and it was still reddish. I might have to get a few touch ups, but I still wouldn't have wanted it in any other color.

Click on it for a much larger version. Bit of a funny angle.

Hi!

I know I've been slacking a little on here but between picking up extra shifts at work and writing the stories... yeah. Most of my free time has been spent sleeping. My schedule should be getting back to normal soon and then I will be able to share some more poetry and a few more funny stories. And, for all of you who have been asking, I will post an updated photo of my tattoo. It's healed nicely but still looks a little pink mainly because I am lacking any depth of a tan. I work the midnight shift and hardly ever see daylight anymore.. what can I do? It's also winter so that doesn't help. But I love the tattoo and it came out perfectly. It's discreet but still very much there. So give me a day or two and I will certainly apply more of my attention on here.

Untitled Poem #2

Stuck on one word so I change the whole line

while trying to force my thoughts to fit this rigid rhyme.

My body and mind cry out to convey

all the things words seemingly forbid me to say.

Speak these thoughts? Share them with the world?

Gladly, if the expression of such, before me, would unfurl.

I have no way to forcibly set free

the passion and creativity confined within me.

Answer to Radom Fact #1

It's a place in Wisconsin called House on The Rock. It is part of an actual house designed by Alex Jordan, Jr. to spite the famous architect Frank Lloyd Wright. When Jordan showed Wright his blueprints for a separate project, Wright said  "I wouldn't hire you to design a cheese crate or a chicken coop. You're not capable." In reaction to this, Jordan found a place high in the mountains and said that he would build a Japanese style home on top of the rocks. The 'Infinity Room' is one of the leading attractions to it. It sticks out 218 feet from the actual house and has no supports underneath it. If you visit on a windy day, you can feel it sway and bounce in the wind.

Random Fact #1

I love optical illusions. I'm not entirely sure why, but they fascinate me. I think it might be that something as complex as our minds can be so easily tricked. Or, looking at if from the other end of things, it's amazing that our minds are so advanced that they try to find logical explanations for things without us feeling as if we are 'thinking' in order to do it. Who really knows?

But why am I bringing this up? Well, I was shuffling through so pictures I had taken on a past vacation and I found the one posted below. It looks as if the hallway just keeps going, BUT in reality, you can't actually walk past where I'm standing. It actually narrows down until it's just a foot or so high. Also, ten points of coolness if anyone knows where this photo was taken.

My Least Favorite Teacher

I'm going to put it as plainly as I can. This dude was crazy. He's so crazy that I can't even attempt to remember an actual conversation I have held with him, so I'm just going to share some memories.

He was a monotonous math teacher that I had the privilege of being taught by for three of my four years of high school. He enjoyed being boring. He enjoyed it so much in fact, that he had discovered ways to hold our attention while no breaking from his boring nature. How? Several ways. The first, was on random days, for no reason, he would start and end class in a headstand... I have nothing to say to follow up on that statement besides it is needless to say that the first time you walk into a class room and your teacher in standing on his head in the front of the room... you're a little concerned for his sanity.

The second strange thing he does, or did, I don't know if he is still teaching or not. Is if he feels the class is drifting too far into their own thoughts, he would suddenly jump up, knocking his chair to the floor with a bang, and just stand there as we all gawked at his random action. He would stand there in silence for several seconds before picking up his chair, taking his seat, and begin to teach again as if nothing had ever happened. Granted, it got our attention. However, we still weren't paying attention to what he was teaching.

And lastly (and most shocking in my opinion) was his need... no, his obsession with white chalk. While most teachers opted for upgraded whiteboards and markers in their classrooms, he insisted on keeping his chalk board and pure white chalk. To this day, no one knows why he is obsessed with white chalk, but his actions only cement his mental love affair with the writing utensil. You see... one day, by pure mistake, he was given a box of yellow chalk to use. He, this quiet, monotone man, gasped so dramatically that we thought something was seriously wrong with him and jumped out of our seats to see if he was okay. Upon realizing he was only reacting to his discovery of the yellow chalk, we were left beyond confused. Then our confusion turned to absolute shock when he started to shake in rage as he ripped open the box and ate the yellow chalk in protest... Yes. He ate the chalk because it was not white.

Like I said, this dude was crazy. There is nothing you could tell me to make me believe otherwise.

Have You Ever...

1. Have you ever forgotten someone's name during an introduction despite the fact that you've known them for years?
2. Have you ever forgotten what you were talking about in the middle of your own sentence?
3. Have you ever stared at a piece of writing for an extended amount of time before you realized you weren't even reading it?
4. Have you ever run around the house looking for something only to realize it was in your hand?
5. Have you ever woken up and held a phone conversation and then not know if it really took place as soon as you hung up?
6. Have you ever gone to sleep and then woken up to honestly not know if it was 7 in the morning or 7 at night and had to ask someone?
7. Have you ever drawn a blank when someone asks for your street address, phone number, age, or date of birth?
8. Have you ever gotten into your car to drive to the store only to realize that you just got into the back seat and your headrest is not your steering wheel?

If you have, then you are my new best friend and I don't feel so alone anymore.

Never Trust Your Peers

Never trust your peers. I learned this fact a long, long time ago. Especially if you are still in high school:

I'm in my algebra 2 math class, completely not paying attention. Never do, so it's not that big of a change. Then I hear my name called.

Teacher: Brandi.

Me: (looks up innocently) Yes?

Teacher: Perhaps you can provide us with the answer to the question.

Me: (looks down and realizes my book is still closed) Uh...

Teacher: Take your time.

Classmate: (whispers) Fifty-one.

Me: …

Classmate: (whispers) Fifty-one.

Me: Fifty-one?

*The class erupts in laughter*

Teacher: Well, I can see where some people might get a little confused about Puerto Rico, but no. There are only fifty states in the US. Thank you for playing the game.

Who the hell asks a question about how many states there are in a math class?
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Now I will try one more time to get some sleep before I have to go to work

For My Readers

I've mentioned this in the author's notes section of BWYDT, but I feel it needs more explaining. I know I have shared with you a few screen caps that have shown the number of you there are and how much feedback I have received with that particular story. But I would like to share something a little bit more personal now.

Since I was a little kid, I have struggled with feeling inadequate. I know must people have at some point in their lives, I always have. I've tried to figure out how best to describe this to you all and my sister summed it up rather nicely for me, so I will borrow her words. Growing up, my parents expected us to do well at everything and were disappointed if we didn't live up to their expectations, wanting to know why we weren't able to. While we were always encouraged to try something new or different, our efforts were never appreciated or praised because the results were expected. Why praise something we should have been doing in the first place? They very much lived by the mentality of never saying 'you did great' but rather saying 'that was okay,  but this is what you need to do to be better'.

That left a void and a feeling that no matter how much I tried, it would never be enough or at least never what they wanted. I could never reach that level of perfection that would win their praises. It's not that they were trying to be hurtful. They were simply wanting us to keep pushing so we never settled for less of anything. I understand this, but it still hurt and has left very deep wounds that have affected me in many aspects of my life, past and present.

The reason I'm sharing this is because of all of you. Your messages, letters, reviews... all of them have filled this void. For the first time in my twenty-four years, I felt like I had done something worth while and that was appreciated. When I first started writing, it was just to write. But with BWYDT, when I added the tattoos and poetry, it became so much more for me and for most of you. I made a connection with several of you that I was never expecting and am left without words to describe how thankful I am for. To those of you who have sent me letters telling me how much that story has impacted your life, you have done the same for me. You have given me the confidence to try something and actually believe that what I'm writing is something special. That I've managed to do something well enough that you can take something away from it. Like I've finally succeeded at something. So I thank you. Thank you for giving me something that I never thought I would find.

To remind myself of this fact, that if I try, I can do something worth while, I got this.

I just got it today and it's still healing, but it's not meant how it is explained in the story. Not entirely at least. But this phrase is what everyone latched onto. This was the first real piece of me that I put into the story that I had been hesitant to share because I didn't think it would be understood. You all proved me wrong and I am so happy you did.

Not only that, but after realizing how much of an impact that story has had and how much of a positive response I have received from it, my parents are actually proud of my attempts. I know that might not sound like much, but it's a lot to me. Thank you again for giving me something I never thought I would find.

My Favorite Teacher

I have a favorite teacher from high school because his class was the most memorable. He was an seventy-something year old AP US Government teacher who signed his name differently on each magazine and newspaper he subscribed to so he could track who sold his information to the companies that sent him junk mail. We rarely did anything productive in class and we spent our hour and a half of class just talking about whatever he wanted to talk about from the news, but hardly anyone paid attention. And he knew it.

He had told us in the beginning of the year that would never give us homework and we would only have six tests for the whole semester. He also did grades on a grading curve. He would take the person who scored the highest (regardless of how low the score actually was) and give them and everyone else 10 points within their score an 'A' grade. Everyone 10 points below that got a 'B' grade, and the rest of the class was given 'C' grades. No one failed. Ever. He refused to give anyone a grade lower than a 'C' because he said there was no point. We were "spoiled little brats whose mommies and daddies would be down in the Principal's office complaining about it" until he changed the grade.

He also had a theory that allowed him to accurately predict which student would set the grading scale by receiving the highest grade. He said: "Every year I can pick out who are the smart kids and who are the idiots who take this class because it looks good on a college application and it's want their Mommy and Daddy want them to do. Because the smart kids are the ones who sit up front and talk. All you other little brats keep your heads down and your mouths shut because you have nothing worth saying and probably can't wrap your narrow little minds around anything that is being discussed." Great Man. Really is.

But because of that fact he never failed anyone, he also didn't believe in privacy when distributing test results and often gave them aloud for the entire class to hear. Well, if you can't make lower than a 'C', what's the big deal? But like I said, he was my favorite teacher. However, he probably doesn't even remember my name because the majority or our conversations went something like this in tone:

Teacher: John?
John: Yes?
Teacher: You got a B. Mary?
Mary: Yes?
Teacher: You got a C. Brandi?
Me: Yes?
Teacher: I don't like you.
Me: (the entire class turns around in their seats to look at me in the back row, just as confused as I was) ... I'm... sorry... for that.
Teacher: Do you know why I don't like you, besides you're a smart ass?
Me: ...no, Sir.
Teacher: You're too damn quiet. You never pay attention to what's going on. And you never say a goddamn word in response to anything these dumb asses think is important... You're also smart as hell. You got a A. Now get the hell out of my class. You're pissing me off.

God I loved that man. He was also the only teacher I ever had that flipped me off as well...

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I'm still on vacation but I felt the urge to share this story. I had a very interesting high school experience that most people I've shared it with have found very entertaining, so I thought I might share a few stories about my most memorable experiences. I have a lot I have to shift through.

But anyway. If things go according to plan, I hope to have a special update to post on here later tonight (not about school). It's very personal to me but I think it needs to be posted. Hopefully it all works out and I can.

I'm Leaving

So in five hours, I am getting off of work and going on a little mini vacation. All of three days worth. Granted ten hours of those three days will be spent in a car... by myself... and my radio...

But I wont have to go to work, so that's always a plus! I don't know how much I will be able to post on here, but I've already written ahead with the fics so those will be updated on schedule. I'll see if maybe I can take some pictures and share with you all, but it's a very last minute mini vacation just because I had an employee quit and this maybe the last chance I have to get a day off of work for a very, very long time.

The hidden meaning: I'm running away from my work related responsibilities. Hope you all have a good week.

You're Here Now

You're here now. Maybe that's what I was missing.
I've been fighting myself and the world for everything that meant nothing.
Now there's this warmth from a smile, this comfort from a touch,
and the knowledge of knowing that before you, I'd never felt this much.
How you've done this to me, I still don't understand,
But my world of pain vanishes with the wave of your hand.
You may touch my skin but I feel it in my soul,
and the pieces of myself I've found have suddenly grown whole.
The only thing to pain me is the thoughts of our pasts.
Lost without each other, love just out side our grasps.
My eyes of memory shut tight with regret,
for all that time wasted before pride fell and hearts met.
Yet somehow when they open your hand is in mine.
You're here now, and so will I be for the rest of time.

Venting Frustrations With You

I've gotten messages and emails from several of you about FFnet. I have no idea what's going on there. One minute the two stories don't exist. The next minute they're missing chapters. Two minutes after that, half of the reviews are gone. Then in five minutes, they're fine.

All I can say is I'm not doing it. It's the website. I'm sorry if you aren't able to read the chapter tonight. I'm trying to find out what's wrong and I'll keep you posted (I'd write this to you on FFnet as a chapter but most of you probably wont be able to see it). I'm getting a little frustrated right along there with you.

The Things I Find on My Phone

My phone beeped at me today that the memory was getting full so I decided to delete some of the pictures I had on it and I found a crap load of ones that I don't even remember taking but I thought a few of them were pretty cute.

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This, I do remember, was taken right before Halloween. Our 'chocolate' lab defied the odds and consumed an entire bag of M&Ms (wrappers and all) without getting sick or dieing, seeing as dog's aren't suppose to eat chocolate.

I don't know if it's just me or not, but when I saw this sign... my mind went to the gutter.



This is the only place in the laboratory that I work at where her cell phone can get reception. I don't know what provider she has, but I'm glad it's not mine.

And yes. This is my father on a carousel.

Looks like Blogger and I are not getting along tonight. So inorder to update There's Always Tomorrow tonight... yeah that just sounds weird. Anyway. I'm going to post it on FanfictionNet. I know some of you were wanting that anyway so I guess this is a good thing. It will be under just Quinn, not Faberry for those of you who don't have an account or aren't signed up for alerts. I'll be posting the whole thing there from now on. And that will be up at my regular posting time in just a few hours.
 
Thanks and sorry for jumping locations on you

Work Humor

Got a long one for you today.

Okay. Now, I know there are a few people from the medical world that follow this blog, and I'm sure you have some of your own stories to add to this. And if any of you are nurses, I mean no disrespect. But at the hospital I work at, we have some... challenged nurses. But first, for those of you who don't know how the hospital setting functions behind the scenes, let me explain a few things.

I work in the laboratory. We draw and run blood and other specimen samples. If we get a result that is outside of the normal 'accepted' range and is considered a 'critical' level, we must call the patient's nurse and inform him or her so that they can take the appropriate actions. Here are a few conversations that I have personally over heard.

Lab Tech: Yes, I have a critical value for a B.U.N. on patient 'John Doe' (making that up for HIPPA violations ;) )
Nurse: Okay. And how do you spell that?
Lab Tech: ...spell what?
Nurse: B.U.N. ?
Lab Tech: B... U... N...
Nurse: Okay. And what's the value?

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Let me explain the Blood Bank system before I tell you this next conversation (or actually 2). When giving blood to a patient it is very, very important that they receive the correct blood type. They can die if they don't. Because this is so important, there is additional identification that needs to be done when drawing blood samples from the patient to determine their blood type.

We have a form on which the person (in this case the nurse) is drawing their blood. They must identify the patient by their wrist band, require a signature verifying it is the correct patient as well as a brief medical history from said patient. After that, a second wrist band is placed on the patient with the patient's name and a unique number that is also placed on the blood sample drawn and the information card. This gives a third and fourth way to identify the patient.

I know it can be confusing. So when a nurse is having to draw this specific test, I try to help them out. I highlight the places on the information card they need to fill out and place a note with it and the second wrist band that says "Please return the filled out information card with the blood sample after you have arm banded the patient". Then I received the following phone call:

Me: Lab This is Brandi.
Nurse: Yes. I have this blood bank I have to draw. I'm about to go draw the specimen and I've already filled out the card. I just have to get the signature, but I have a question.
Me: (Thinking it is the normal 'what if they received blood four months ago' or something like that) Okay. What's your question?
Nurse: What do I do with this armband?
Me: ...You mean the one with the patient's name on it and the note that says to bring the blood down to us after you've armbanded the patient?
Nurse: Yeah. That one.
Me: ...you put it on the patient.
Nurse: That's what I thought.

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Better yet was when I received a phone call from the nursing supervisor or the 'head nurse'.

Me: Lab. This is Brandi.
Nursing Sup: Brandi. Can you bring me a new wrist band for that blood bank specimen you just dropped off.
Me: (thinking I did something wrong) I can. Is there something wrong with that one?
Nursing Sup.: (Taking a deep breath) Not exactly. I just had a nurse who thought she was suppose to put it on herself.

I have a million of these. This is getting a little too long but maybe I'll post some more another day.

There's Always Tomorrow Chapter 1

Here is the prequel to Beautiful When You Don't Try. Chapter one. I tried to stick with the same overall vibe of the verse, but without making it see too strange to have a Quinn/Adrianne pairing. Don't worry all you Faberry lovers. Rachel will be a prominent character, just not by being there physically.

The first chapter so its mainly about how they meet. The chapter that will be posted on Thursday gets more settled. And next Tuesday even more so. My goal for this prequel is to have you all go back and read BWYDT afterwards, and kind of hate Quinn during the beginning instead of Adrianne. I know that sounds horrible, but it will round out the whole story much nicer. You'll understand both sides of the story with this one, not just Quinn's.

As for the basic warnings. I do not own the character of Quinn nor anyone from her back story. It's rated 'M' for mature for later chapters. Femslash. Don't like, don't read. ...I think that about covers it all. Again, feel free to leave me comments or send me an email to let me know what you are thinking about it.

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Quinn leaned against the bottom row of desks in her psychology class. Her lips were pursed in annoyance, her foot tapping, and her hazel eyes rolled up to the ceiling. All while she reminded herself that she had set a goal to learn to be more patient. She needed to learn not to bite people's heads off when they were acting stupid. She needed to not ask them point blank if they were morons. She needed to not stare at them in complete disbelief of their stupidity until they got the picture and walked away in shame and fear. She needed to change that. That behavior wasn't making her happy or proud. And that was why she continued to stand where she had been for the last ten minutes as her professor flirted with two of her class' dumbest female students.

“Are you planing on sleeping with him?” A voice called out and it took Quinn a minute to realize the person was talking to her. She dropped her eyes from the ceiling to the professor’s teaching assistant who was currently grading papers in a seat next to her.

“Excuse me?”

The brunette set her pen down on the tiny desk and pointed to the occupied teacher. “Are you planning on sleeping with him?”

The blonde didn't know how to respond to such a blunt and inappropriate question besides a simple and rather haughty “No.”

“Then you're wasting your time standing here. He wont help you, only give you the run around until he gets what he wants, which is in your pants.”

“Is that how you got your position?” The cutting remark fell out of her mouth before she could even catch herself. Quinn closed her eyes in regret and opened them again to see the assistant reclined back in her seat with an offended but amused smile on her face. “I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated from waiting.”

The girl's emerald green eyes staring back at her were unblinking. “That's alright. But to answer your question, no. I'm not sleeping with him. Not that he didn't give me this position hoping to remedy that fact.” She explained, rolling her eyes. “But anyway, what did you need to know and maybe I can help you out since we both know he isn't going to be available any time soon.”

Quinn was thankful that the girl didn't take severe offense to her crassness and tell her to fuck off, but rather offered to help. She was great at offending people, not so great at making friends. Quinn set her books down and pulled out the printout that outlined what her next paper was to be written on.

“Oh, wait.” The brunette interrupted her, seeing what was in her hand. “Let me guess. You're looking for that one example he left off, right? There's an example for three of the four personality types and you're looking for the fourth.”

“Yeah. How'd you know?”

She laughed lightly and took the paper from Quinn's hand and began to write on it. “That's how he gets them down here.” She remarked, pointing quickly to the two students that were fully enveloped in his flirtation before continuing her notations. “He intentionally leaves things off so that he is approached after class. It gives him prime flirting opportunities.”

“That's just... repulsive.”

“That's male.” The brunette offered. Quinn laughed and turned her attention back to the assistant. “Here. Thoreau. Last semester he was the dick's favorite example after everyone had turned their papers in. If you write on him then you might catch our pervert's attention for the right reasons, not just because you're beautiful.”

Quinn accepted the paper back with an appreciative smile. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

The blonde took a few steps away but then stopped, turning back to the assistant. “I know it's not really my place, and especially after I insulted you, but why are you his assistant if you know he's only trying to sleep with you?”

“He may use faulty lesson plans as a tool to get women, but I'm using this position as a tool for my future career.” Quinn arched an eyebrow in curiosity, taking a step closer again, and the assistant dropped her eyes to the desk with a nervous laugh. “I'm studying law. I want to focus on human rights and discrimination. He and his sexist and power abusing ways, are my study subjects. I'm learning about the enemy.” She joked, earning a laugh from Quinn.

“Well, I wish you the best of luck with it.”

She nodded then held out her hand. “I'm Adrianne, by the way.”

“Quinn.” The blonde greeted, accepting her hand and returning her smile.

“Well, Quinn. It was nice to meet you and I maybe I'll see you around. You know, out side of the class.”

Quinn nodded in response and left, thinking maybe she had finally found someone in this entire campus that she could hold a conversation with and not either feel threatened by or want to kill. It didn't take too long before she had a second chance to find out. She had been talked into going to a frat party by her room mate and only agreed to hold up appearances. She had found that while she continued to feed into the things she was 'suppose' to do, it made her less and less happy to do so.

She had run away from her past in Ohio to start a new life but found herself still very much living the one she left. Now, it just had new names and faces. Everyone acted the same. There were the annoying self-centered ones she wanted to strangle, having even less patience for them now than before. There were the popular ones who thought they were better than everyone else and sought her out as friends, only because they saw her as a threat. There were the jocks, only concerned with their reputations and appearance. The intellects who looked down upon everyone else, and more so if they felt threatened by someone who suddenly proved themselves to be either smart, or perhaps even smarter than themselves.

Quinn was already over school but she had nothing else to do, well nothing else that she was 'suppose' to be doing. Her spare time was spent immersed in her photography obsession that had begun to develop towards the end of her freshman year. It started to provide her with some additional income, but even that was starting to grow unappealing. She could feel herself slipping back into a familiar depression that she was hell bent on staying out of. But here she was at the party, shifting through a crowd of people who she felt could barely look past their own needs and desires to see anything else in the world because she was twenty-one and was 'suppose' to enjoy being here. She was no better than them, following societies pre-approved rules, and that realization only depressed her even more.

“You don't look to thrilled to be here.” A familiar voice called in her ear as she found a hiding spot near a door way in the overly crowded house. The pulsing music and screams and cheers were already giving her a headache. She turned around to be met by emerald green eyes and a genuine smile. It was Adrianne.

“Um... Hi. I'm not actually. I would just never hear the end of it from my room mate if I didn't make an appearance.”

“Ah. It's amazing how miserable peer pressure can make us.”

Quinn opened her mouth to respond but she was cut off by a firm hand on her ass. “Hey, Babe. I didn't think you would be here.”

“Get your hands off of me.” She ordered, slapping his hand away as she turned to look up to the tall brunette jock. He threw his hands in the air in surrender.

“My bad. I keep forgetting that's off limits.”

“It's all off limits to you.”

“Everything okay?” Adrianne asked as she now stood behind Quinn, concern in her voice as she moved a little forward just in case she needed to step in between the two. Quinn clearly wasn't impressed with the smug an drunk student and he was all smiles, only fueling the aggravation.

The blonde just stared down the pretty boy as he slowly retreated backwards into the crowd. “Yes. Everything's fine... Jerk.”

“Do you know him or is he just really forward?”

Quinn let out a sigh and ran her hand over her forehead. “Unfortunately, I even dated the ass.”

“You have impeccable taste.”

She couldn't help but laugh and loved how the anger instantly subsided. Adrianne's sense of humor was very much like hers. Smart and quick. She could really see herself making a lasting friendship with the brunette... if she would just let someone in again. “I know, right. Um, so... are you here studying more of the enemy? Because I'm pretty sure you just saw a prime example. I could introduce you two.” She asked, pointing behind her to her ex who was now grinding with two freshmen.

“No. Actually I came looking for some tail.” Quinn dropped her brow but couldn't stop herself from smiling. She knew it was a joke but found it oddly charming. “No, I'm just here because a friend dragged me along as well. Did you want a drink?”

Quinn shook her head, holding up her hand. “No thank you. I don't drink unless there's someone around I can trust.”

Adrianne arched an eyebrow. “Are you a wild one at heart?

“Ha. Not hardly. I'm about as up tight as they come actually.”

“You don't strike me as uptight, maybe just mature enough to be over the childishness that accompanies events such as this.” Adrianne offered, waving her glass around the room of nearly one hundred drunken college students who were either trying to dance to music that was far too loud and only stumbling on the person passed out on the floor, or were too busy to dance because they were trying to get laid.

“I like how you think. It's like you can read my mind.”

“I'm just very perceptive. It's like a sixth sense I come by naturally.” She joked but the statement caught Quinn funny and she found herself smiling. Memories came flooding back to her and she dropped her eyes and furrowed her brow, trying to forget them all over again.

“Actually, I think I might want that drink. Would you mind being my body guard for a little while?”

“Seeing as the friend I came with is now upstairs with... a few people, I would love to. At least I know you're capable of holding a conversation that doesn't involve the words 'dude', 'bombed', 'fucking', or 'I'm going to throw up on you'.”

After getting Quinn her drink, they escaped the noise and headed outside to the cool night's air. They walked until the noise was far enough behind them so they could actually hear each other and then kept going. “I love the cool weather. It reminds me of home.” The blonde stated absently, looking up to what she could see of the night sky through the trees.

“And where's home?”

“Ohio.”

“Illinois for me. What brought you out here?”

Quinn laughed to herself and met her potential new friend's eyes briefly as they continued to walk in a slow pace. “It wasn't Ohio.” She joked, earning an understanding nod from Adrianne. “No, I'm just dabbling in the arts until I decide where exactly I'm wanting to go. I've latched on to photography, but I'm slowly losing interest.”

“Any particular reason?”

“I love it. It's...” She hesitated, meeting Adrianne's eyes and trying to read her interest. She couldn't remember the last time she had held a conversation that wasn't about pop culture or who's dating who. “It's freeing. But lately it's become a bit more of a hassle. I do weddings and birthdays and family reunions, but it's a lot more work than I had imagined it to be and it's not easy to try and do by yourself. I would prefer just to be more freelance but I have to pay my bills too.”

“Well, have you thought about getting a friend to help out?”

Quinn laughed again as they continued to walk to no place in particular. “Do you know how hard it is, not only to get a college student to give up their Saturday, but tell them it's to go to a wedding?”

“Okay... good point. Well, I know we just kind of met, but I'd be willing to help out if you need it. I mean, you aren't doing a wedding every Saturday are you? Because if you are... I don't think I can sacrifice my stellar frat part attendance.” She joked with a warm smile.

“No, it's sporadic, but I wouldn't want to impose. I appreciate the offer though.”

Adrianne grabbed her arm lightly and let it go once the blonde stopped. “It was a serious offer, not one just to be polite. If you need the help, I'll help. I would hate for you to lose interest in a passion just because you're too damn proud to ask for it. So I'm offering it.”

Quinn smiled lightly as she furrowed her brow. “You are a good read.”

“It's a gift. So?”

“So... I guess I'll let you know when the next wedding is.”

“Sweet. Now I have something to pull me away from my books and actually blame for when I fail a test and you didn't have to swallow your pride. I think this friendship will work out just perfectly."

A Picture Is Worth 1,000 What?

You know how people say a picture is worth a thousand words? Well, I found out recently that they are also worth 1,000 questions which form an interrogation that has now made me question how invasive pictures can be into one's life. For example, I was messing around with my camera and took the picture posted below. I never deleted it from the card afterward and when I was unloading them all onto my computer a friend began making observations in the form of questions.

Did you take that? Yes.
Is that your bedroom? Yes.
Do you ever make your bed? No.
Is that your top sheet covering the windows? Yes.
Have you ever thought of putting up curtains? Yes.
Are you going to? No.
Is that a picture of an eyeball on your wall? Yes.
Whose eye is that? Mine.
Yours? Yes.
Doesn't that creep you out to have by your bed? No.
It would creep me out. ...
Did you take all those pictures? Yes.
Do you ever answer a question in more than one word? ...yes.
...Smart ass.

Write Me A Poem

Write me a poem. Write me your words.
Tell me your thoughts and the things that you've heard.
Share with me your life, your love, and passion.
Tell me of your day's experiences and what unexpected things happened.

Express to me what you never have before,
Because it's the expression of such that makes our love grow more.
A deeper connection grows strong from such things
And away with your thoughts, my heart flies and it sings.

Sings of days spent with my head on your chest.
When time ticks by slower, more content than the rest.
When my heart was not mine, but yours instead.
And when I realized that I, before you, was dead.

You gave life to these bone, breathed air to my lungs.
Your gift of words gave me miles of dreams to be spun.
You gave me things I could never give in return:
a passion for love and life that inside me just burns.

~/~/~/~
I was working on the Adrianne/Quinn fic when this poem came to me. If put in context with the story, it would be from Rachel to Quinn in BWYDT.

'Discussions' and My Parents

I’ve always known my family was different from other kids’ families. I didn’t know why or even how, but I knew it was. Then there were always conversations like this that made me think that maybe I was on the right track to figuring out the true uniqueness of my family.

Me: (Coming out of my room as my parents finally stop yelling at each other over whose checking account a twenty dollar check is going to be deposited into. And yes, they have separate checking accounts but they have access to each other's. Why? I don't know, but that's not the point. Back to the point.) You two sure are fighting a lot lately.
Mom: We are not fighting.
Me: Yes you are. You've been sitting here yelling at each other all morning.
Mom: This is not a fight. This is a discussion.
Me: Well your 'discussions' are what 90% of the world would define as a fight.
Mom: No. A fight is when I tell your father to go to hell.

They will be celebrating their thirtieth anniversary of a happy marriage this year, which brings up another unique story. How they got married... twice. Or hell, how they got even together.

My father had become friends with a guy who had a crush on my mother. My mom and this guy had known each other for years and he was planning on asking her to be his girlfriend and all that good stuff. But two weeks after my father was introduced to her, he beat his buddy to it and asked my mother to move with him to Texas. She did. Two weeks after meeting him, she moved in with him and while eating a meal together he said 'Lets get married'. They did.

But then came the problem with that picture, my grandmother. Who after some time of thinking my mother was living in sin with a man, threatened my father's life if they were ever to get married without my grandmother present. To spare his life or loss of any particular body part, they arranged a second wedding, allowing everyone to believe it was their first. So while technically while this is the year for their 30th anniversary, they have celebrated 60 anniversaries together. Not to bad for two people who are in their fifties.

Welcome to 2011!

I'm going to start off the new year with words from one of my favorite writers/philosophers, Henry David Thoreau. More specifically, ones that can be found in a single book titled Walden. For over two years Thoreau lived in a small cabin that he built himself, a mile away from his nearest neighbor, and wrote this book on his day-to-day life and the discoveries and thoughts that came to him during this period. Here are a few of my favorite quotes that I think are good lessons to begin the new year with in mind.

It is never too late to give up our prejudices. No way of thinking or doing, however ancient, can be trusted without proof. What everybody echoes or in silence passes by as true today may turn out to be falsehood tomorrow, mere smoke of opinion, which some had trusted for a cloud that would sprinkle fertilizing rain on their fields.

~/~/~/~

Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other's eyes for an instant?

~/~/~/~

Public opinion is a weak tyrant compared with our own private opinion. What a man thinks of himself, that it is which determines, or rather indicates, his fate.

~/~/~/~

What old people say you cannot do, you try and find you can.