A Letter to Tan Lines

Dear Tan Lines,

You know me.  We're pretty close.  I mean, you're attached to me, and I'm a little attached to you by virtue of your being branded into my skin.  But in case you're not familiar with my name, I'm Brianna.  Hey, how you doing?

Back in Florida, I noticed you existed because when I wore tank tops, you were there marking our the sleeves that I wore for my costume.  That costume was adorable, but the sleeves were just too darn long due to the unisex nature of those yellow and white striped button downs that we weren't allowed to roll up.  And then there were the tan lines that reminded me I had to wear socks that covered my ankles, leaving the knobs of my ankles down to my toes a pale Elmer's glue white.  Luckily you didn't mark out my skort because my thighs are always pale anyway.

Well.  I noticed you yesterday.  I thought you'd faded away completely and that I was back to my usual pale and fairly even self, but when I donned that tank top and went out into the sun yesterday, there you were.  Yes, you had faded during the winter months when I covered you up in sweater sleeves and long pants, but you're still there.  I could tell you were still there when I bared my shoulders to the sunlight yesterday afternoon.

And don't get me wrong, I'm really glad that I got tan rather than burned in Florida, but I'd really like the evidence of my shirtsleeves to go away.

So basically, I love you...but please leave.

Love,
Brianna

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Brianna Life Update:

The job search continues.

My internship has me doing a lot of things, and I'm still really excited about it.  A bunch of stuff that I wrote for the site has even been posted, and you can read all that here: www.heresthestory.org.

I'm still doing my Poem-A-Day Project, but for some reason I keep leapfrogging.  I keep forgetting to write a poem every other day, leading me to write two poems in a day...multiple days "in a row."  I don't know what's up with this, but it's something that I'm going to have to figure out before next month, because it just can't go on like this.

I'm still working on revising poems that I'm sending out to people as part of an artistic pay it forward type deal from Facebook.  I actually wanted to commit to doing that, because I know lots of people post those statuses, collect things from people, and then never actually send out art.  So...I'm doing that, but I'm having difficulty picking poems for people and making sure that they're pretty.  The only reason I'm posting this on my blog is because I'm fairly certain that the people I'm talking about have either forgotten that I owe them a poem or they don't read this blog.  So...I win.

I'm reading too many books at once.  Right now I have bookmarks in Act of Will and Wonder Boys, and on the almost immediate line up after those are The Handmaid's Tale and Beautiful Creatures, both of which I've borrowed from friends.  Though one of them I'm going to hold hostage, so go ahead and try to stop me!

I haven't been on any adventures recently, but I did buy new jeans (whoohoo!) the other day, and they look awesome.  Mostly because I'm wearing them, and I always look awesome, but also because they're super comfy.

And that's about it.  Happy Thursday!

"I think you are wrong to want a heart.  It makes most people unhappy.  If you only knew it, you are in luck not to have a heart."

- L. Frank Baum

A Letter to Ms. Right Turn on Red

Dear Ms. Right Turn on Red,

You don't know me, but I'm Brianna.  The first and last time you saw me was when I was walking on my way to my internship work day wearing the army jacket I'm so infinitely pleased with, and my Gryffindor scarf while cradling my laptop, Jacques, in my right arm.  My gray messenger bag was hanging from my left hip.  But this description of me probably doesn't even really help.

But I know you.  You really have a great shiny black SUV.  It's kinda on the large size, which would explain why you pulled halfway across the striped crosswalk.  You're tan, dark hair, I admittedly didn't get to see you too clearly because our interaction was so short and traumatic.

Let me break it down for you.  Your light was red.  The little white "walk" symbol was illuminated for me, and I was walking from your right hand side to cross the street.  I thought, "Well this jerk is a little rude, taking up half the crosswalk," and stepped out in front of your car, sidestepping around the nose because well...as I said, you were a little inconsiderate when thinking of pedestrians.  I was right between your headlights when you decided you wanted to move your car.  And that's when I felt the shiny hood of your car against the flat of my palm.  I don't know how I just happened to have my hand up there, but yup, there it was.  And that's when I looked straight through your windshield and put my hands up in the universal signal of "WHAT THE HELL?!"  You were looking down the street in the direction you wanted to turn.  I passed you, still in the middle of the street, and you tore off, taking your right on red.

As if you couldn't possibly wait until the green light.

I do have you to thank because now I have the opportunity to say, "I had a near brush with death!" and "I was hit by a car!"  Because technically...I was.  Five months working in a parking lot, and I was never hit or run over.  Two months at home, doing everything right in the eyes of the law, and that's when I get hit.  Part of me suspects that it's because I'm not wearing an orange safety vest.  Clearly this is something I should carry around with me at all times or else I'm likely to be run over.

So thank you, lady.  Thanks a lot for that.

Love,
Brianna

Future Brianna

I stole another idea from my English teacher friend's class blog.  It asks me to imagine a future me has come to talk to the present me.  What kind of advice would Future Brianna offer the now me?  Would I trust this person who claims to be me...from the future?

What I'm actually going to do is write this in the form of a letter.  Because I feel like it.  And because I imagine Future Brianna is literate.

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Dear Past Brianna,

Well, by now you're Past Brianna in relation to my--I should probably introduce myself.

I'm you.  From The Future.  I know it sounds strange like some freaky Doctor Who or Back to the Future thing, but I promise I'm not going to attack London on Christmas, and your children are fine.  They're actually at school right now, and that younger one is a whippersnapper, let me tell you.

If I'm timing the receipt of this letter correctly, you're in the middle of your first ever job search.  And you're having great fun, you run around the block every time you hear back from a potential employer and you drink champagne every time you get a job offer that you're at your leisure to decline because you already have your perfect job, right?  Wrong.  I know it's seriously lame, that you spend the majority of your "job search" hunting through the same websites for different or new postings and that you've heard from less than 0.0000002% of the employers you've bothered to send your resume to.  You're also worried that these potential employers aren't a fan of the quote you start your cover letter with.  These are legitimate concerns.  But not really.  I know you think they are, but you really need to calm down.  Right now.

Deep breath.

And let it out.

Okay, good.  That's a start, at least.  From one Brianna to another, let me tell you that now is the time to work on your writing.  Because trust me, there's going to be a time very soon when you're going to have an opportunity related to your writing, and if you're not prepared for it, it's going to cause some serious stress.  I  know this because I lived the stress scenario, and it'd be really great if we could change that, because I suspect that's where the gray hairs came from.  I'm mostly kidding.  But when it comes to your writing, revise those stinking Poem-A-Day poems!  They're just sitting in piles on the desk chair for the desk that you don't use, and they're calling your name in feeble little voices, imploring you to "Do something with us!"  Answer the call.  Oh, and write a play.  Someone's going to ask you for a play, so it would be helpful to be prepared with that one.  Yeah.

And when it comes to the job search, keep up those deep breathing exercises.  It's going to take a while.  You've only been at it for a couple months, and you probably won't get a legitimate job offer until June, so sit back and relax a little.  And if you get a job offer from a website claiming to be a French person in Chicago...you need to ignore that one.  Okay, good.

You're also single, and I need for you to go forth and have fun with that.  For real.  Otherwise, you're just going to sink into sadness.  So please, for my sake, and the sake of your future children, go out and have some fun.  Because let's face it, those future children aren't going to let you go out with friends too often once they arrive.  Sorry, fact of life.  And I know right now you don't want kids...but that future husband's going to change your mind.  Oops, did I say you were going to get married?  Oh.  Yeah.  That.  Yeah, ignore that.

No, I'm not going to tell you where you meet.

Yes, you can trust me.

No, you should not burn this letter right now.

Anyway, you're sinking a lot of your time into trivial things.  So I need you to identify those trivial things and cut them out of your life.  Or at least trim them.  Facebook for instance, trivial thing.  This blog?  Not so much.  Just look at how much it's gotten you to write over the past...however long.  This is a good thing.  This is also a good thing to maintain because you have at least one person who reads your blog every single day, and I'm not going to tell you who it is.  So deal with it.

I know it sounds cheesy and probably a little unfair coming from me, but it's going to get better.  Okay, okay, I know, I'll back off on the cheese now.  When one door closes...ha, I'm only kidding.  You thought I was serious, you should really know you better.  Another thing to put on your to do list!

Remember things.  Be a good role model.  Put forth an effort, not only an effort, but your heart into everything.  Take a deep breath and remain calm.  Have a little fun.  Moderation.  Don't be afraid.  Help others.  Show people understanding.  Practice compassion.  Love.  Get out of your comfort zone and your shell.  Do something worthwhile.

And knit those elf slippers, because those things are awesome.

Love,
Future Brianna

"'You will be fine,' the fortune teller says.  'There may be decisions to make and surprises in store.  Life takes us to unexpected places sometimes.  The future is never set in stone, remember that.'"

- Erin Morgenstern

A Letter to French Fries

Dear French Fries,

It's been a long time, but I'm sure you remember me.  My name's Brianna, and I'm the blonde girl with the glasses who gets random cravings for you.

Last night, the question was posed, "Where do you want to eat?"  My first answer was the cheeky answer that I always give because that's the type of person I am, "Preferably somewhere with food.  Delicious food."  And then I realized, "I have the weirdest cravings for French fries, so can we go somewhere that will give me fries?"

You are delicious.  I love when you're crispy on the outside and soft on the inside and golden.  Needless to say, I successfully acquired a plate of French fries along with my bacon cheeseburger because I am the most healthy person in the history of the world.  And naturally, I ate all of the fries first.

Can we talk about one thing that I'm not a fan of?  Why is it that you never taste as delicious when you're leftover?  And cold French fries don't taste particularly good either.  Is it because you've just renounced all your deliciousness once you spend a night in the fridge?  As an act of rebellion, do you perhaps say, "Too bad, fry-eater, we're not going to be as delicious the next day!" and then toss off the coat of tastiness?  I'm not really sure how that would work literally, but I'm sure you can probably find a way what with your wily temptations that get me to eat you in the first place.

Lucky for you, I've discovered that my downfall with second day French fries is warming them up in the microwave because that makes them soggy.  I've learned only now that if you warm up French fries in a toaster oven, they're still crispy.  Unfortunately, I don't own a toaster oven, so that leaves me to consume a quarter of my burger and the entire plate of fries when I go out.  Which is something I'm totally okay with, don't get me wrong.

Then I found this on my Pinterest...it was there all along!

Source: buzzfeed.com via Brianna on Pinterest

I highly doubt that any "healthy alternatives" will turn me off of plain old delicious and fatty potato French fries, but it definitely sounds like an endeavor that will be fun to experiment with, and it'll definitely give me something to do.

I love you, French fries.  Let's see if there are other versions of you that are even more delicious.

Cheers,
Brianna

"Blood may be thicker than water, but it's certainly not as thick as ketchup.  Nor does it go as well with French fries."

- Jarod Kintz

A Letter to/from My Valentine

Even though I technically asked and was accepted as a valentine for my mother, sometimes you just have to write some mushy stuff.  I know it's probably trite and I'm probably contradicting my post from last year, but you know...here goes nothing.

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Valentine I Wish I Would Get:

Dearest Brianna,

It feels as though it's been weeks since I heard your voice when in reality it hasn't even been one week.  And now it's Valentine's Day.  And I know how you feel about Valentine's Day, so for I'll count the cliches for you when they come up.

You mean the world to me (1).  No joke.  If it came down to whether I would want you or the world, well, you would be more portable.

I can't imagine myself with anyone else but you (2) although if Angelina Jolie came calling, I might have to go running.  We have to have our principles here and I figure if I tell you in advance, you won't be able to argue with me when it happens.

In short, love, let's go have adventures and make the most out of life (3).

I love you, happy Valentine's day.

Love,
Random Imaginary (preferably British) Gentleman

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Valentine I Wish I Would Send:

Dear love,

Yesterday I started writing thank you notes for the presents I got for Christmas, and because you know me so well, you're going to keep your mouth shut about thank you notes being most effective when they come right after the holiday they belong to...  Anyway, the point is that because I'm kind of in a more thankful mood than I usually am, this will probably end up being a thank you note rather than a love letter, so I apologize if you were getting your hopes up.

Thank you.

Thank you for understanding me enough to know that you have to let me ride the shopping cart in the parking lot, and if you don't I'll probably pout.  Thank you for letting me drag you down every single aisle in the grocery store because it amuses me.

Thank you for letting me play.  It's taken me a really long time to find someone like you who is willing to let me play.  You once told me that you didn't see the point in becoming an adult if you couldn't be childish sometimes, and I'm pretty sure that that's when I fell for you.  And the best part is, you don't just let me play, you join in.  You pun with me, and I love that about you.  I was always afraid that I would end up with someone who would crush my soul and force me to write stuffy poetry, but you make me want to go on adventures with you and stay up all night eating candy.

Thank you for using British-isms and/or being British yourself.  You know that that's exactly what I love, and you use it to your advantage.  It's perfect.  Seriously.  Don't ever stop.  And thank you for understanding that if David Tennant comes into my life, I will leave you.  And even if you don't really understand, thank you for allowing that this is a reality.

Thank you for kissing me to shut me up when I'm on a rant.  Oh wait.  That's me.  Um.  Well, thank you for letting me kiss you to shut you up?  :^P

Thank you for writing to me.  I've always had a list of things that I would want my perfect man to be and do, and writing to me is up there.  I love the letters and the postcards and the e-mails, I love that we're in contact outside of text messages because I have to admit that I love reading the words that you physically wrote on a piece of paper for me.  It's kinda awesome.  You don't have to write me poetry, but I love that you do, it makes me melt.

Thank you for supporting me, especially when I'm being irrational.  Thank you for holding me and calming my panic especially when you don't understand what the big deal is anyway.  Because I know it's dumb.  And I know that I worry without reason, but sometimes it's just something I need to do.  Thank you for being there.

Thank you for not giving up on me.

Love,
Brianna

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

To all the lovers, to all the romantics, to all those looking for love, or to those who have lost it, may you have a wonderful day full of sunshine and warmth.  And don't forget about discounted candy tomorrow!

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PROMPT:
Write your own valentine you wish you would send or receive!

"I'll love you, dear, I'll love you till China and Africa meet and the river jumps over the mountain and the salmon sing in the street."

- W.H. Auden

A Letter to Florida Weather

Dear Florida Weather,

I know I've talked to to you a couple times...specifically to shake my fist at the heavens and say "CURSE YOU!" whenever it rains, but this letter isn't like that.

I'm writing today to say thank you.  Thank you for starting to cool off.  I'm really excited that the temperatures are dropping below 90 degrees.  I know that Florida is supposed to be warm, but I'm from Chicago and this humidity is a little crazy.  Granted, my hair is loving the humidity because it curls in all sorts of crazy ways, which can be nice, but the rest of me?  Not so much.  Especially all the bits of me that I have to cover in sunscreen because in addition to the humidity, it's been hot and sunny.  Except when it rains.  When it rains, that's the only time when it's windy, because rain is only fun when it can soak you through in a matter of minutes.  So your weather is a little strange, and the majority of it is taking a lot of work to get used to for this Chicagoan.

When September started, I found myself looking around for the changing colors in the leaves.  But you already know that palm trees don't lose their leaves, and they don't change colors either.  I'm already starting to miss the fall leaves in Illinois, but on the bright side, your weather is getting significantly easier to deal with. Now that the temperature has dropped below 90 degrees, it's better for cuddling up in a hoodie inside the apartment, and maybe there'll be a time when we can comfortably sit outside on our balcony and enjoy the outside.  That would be nice.  Maybe it'll even drop below 80, and then I could easily wear a sweater outside, that would be spectacular.  I miss sweaters.  And scarves.

Rumor has it that you get pretty chilly in the winter months.  If the rumors are true, I'll be really excited because that'll mean I may get to bundle up.  Or scoff at the Floridians who are bundling up.  Either way, I win, really.

So do me a favor, Florida Weather, cool off a little more than a little, and we'll have a great time for the rest of my stay here.

Love,
Brianna

A Letter to My Brain

Dear Brain,

Hello.  I'm not sure we've been formally introduced, but my name is Brianna.  I'm the one who's got the cranium you're currently residing in.  At least, I'm pretty sure you're there.  Not sure how I would be typing this if you weren't...  Anyway, if you're reading this letter, it would appear that you're home, and that's nice.  Welcome.  It's good to have you here.  I appreciate it.

First off, I thought I'd start with some apologies.  I'm really sorry how hard I worked you during the past four years with little to no outside stimulation.  I really should have tried harder to read fun things in addition to all the other stuff I was reading.  I'm also sorry for depriving you of sleep every now and again.  Then again, you have to admit that there were times this past year when you went without sleep and you actually felt more rested than you would have if you had slept.  I know that was weird, and I promise I won't try that again, but you have to admit that that was pretty cool.  I'm sorry for watching Breaking Dawn: Part 1 earlier this month.  It was a rough day.  You needed a break as much as I did.  Sorry not sorry for reading those romance novels (by the way, there are two more books in that series).

Thank you for getting me through Senior Sem.  I know I worked you really hard, but in the end you really pulled through.  I was worried there for a little bit, but I know how you like to make a dramatic win at the end.  Oh, and thank you for helping me with Econ.  Going to the professor for help?  That was probably one of the greatest ideas you've had.  Like ever.  Right next to "Hey, let's go draw with chalk in the parking lot at night."  But I'm not sure how you would out-do that one.

But can I be frank?

But your name's Brianna...how can you be Frank too?

Oh shut up.

That's what I really want to talk to you about.  It's essential that we figure out a system for when you're allowed to interfere and when you need to shut up and take a seat in the corner with the Briannas we're not listening to.  For example, Angsty Brianna is currently in the corner.  You need to go over there because you're getting taken over by Apathetic Brianna, and that's a huge problem.  You spent the majority of today being all blah and mush, and that's not okay.  You didn't want to write, you didn't want to read, hell, I couldn't even get you to watch a movie.  It was a disaster.  We can't have that anymore.  I'm putting my foot down.
There are also other times when you need to shut up.  Specifically, I'm talking about those times when you step in and Brianna gets paralyzed.  I mean "paralyzed" with fear and indecision and not-okay-ness.  You know the time I'm talking about.  I can actually point to a specific date.  Does October 28th ring any bells?  Yeah.  Then.  You should have gotten out of your own way, swallowed your pride, and not let Brianna get paralyzed.  You great idiot.  So really.  Just.  Stop.  Thinking.  Every now and again.  That's all I ask.  Don't mess things up for me, don't make me freak out and don't make me alienate people by jumping to eight different conclusions before they've even thought about the starting line.  So stop that.  Please.  My life will be significantly easier, simpler, better...if you would do that one favor for me.  So the signal?  "Pineapple."  Ready?  Go.  Or...stop, I guess.

Right.  Now that we've gotten that settled, I hope you have a lovely summer resting yourself and reading some awesome books and taking breaks every now and then to not think.  And remember that there are some times when I really want you to think a lot (like when I'm writing, for instance).  So it's going to be tough, but I hope we can continue our friendship.

Love,
Brianna

"Agitation is the atmosphere of the brains."

- Wendell Phillips

Advice from Authors

When I was younger, I used to write letters to authors of the books that I read, asking for advice for beginning writers.  Sometimes I got responses back.  These are some of the responses I got:

Jane Yolen (author of Sword of the Rightful King) says, "I have three pieces of advice for young writers.  One: read, read, read!  You must read every day, and try to read a wide range of books.  Two: write, write, write!  Keep a journal, write letters, anything to keep the "writing muscles" in shape.  Three: don't let anyone stop you from writing.  Be persistent no matter what "naysayers" or critical editors have to say about your writing."

Dyan Sheldon (author of Planet Janet) says, "Okay, I've got two pieces of advice for a writer just starting out: 1. Read everything you can; 2. Write.  Even if all you write is fragments (I used to write stories that were about a paragraph long--certainly no more than a page.  I did that for years, until they started getting longer and longer.  Finally they got so long that I thought I might try writing a novel), it doesn't matter.  I've known lots of people who said they wanted to write, but never wrote anything."

Ann Brashares (author of The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants) says, "As far as your writing, take your time.  When you feel ready you can try and fit some of those story fragments together to make a whole story.  Have someone, like a trusted teacher, take a look at it and help you with the editing.  Then if you feel like it, you can submit it for publication in a magazine or journal.  You'll probably find many resources at your library about places to submit the type of story that you have written."

Kirsten Miller (author of Kiki Strike: Inside the Shadow City) says, "Well the best piece of advice I can offer is...rely on your butt power.  Don't laugh!  The secret is sitting still long enough to have great thoughts--and get them down on paper."

Lynne Rae Perkins (author of Criss Cross) says, "I think story fragments are a really good place to start.  I think it takes a long time for stories to gestate--at least it does for me.  Just keep coming back to them.  Set them aside, then come back and look at them with fresh eyes.  Over and over.  Also, have fun with them, and don't forget to live your (real) life."

Garth Nix (author of Mister Monday) says, "My only real writing advice is to just keep going and force yourself to finish."

Michael Hoeye (author of Time Stops for No Mouse) says, "As for advice about your writing, the best counsel I can offer is patience.  Most stories are very elusive creatures.  They don't like to make themselves known right away.  So enjoy exploring your story fragments.  At some point one of those stories will demand more of your attention.  And when it does, then my advice is to pay very, very close attention indeed.  Follow it where it leads and don't let go.  In the meantime you might try to keep this in mind: to write well one must be able to work and to play at the same time.  That is no mean trick.  So while you're pursuing the work of learning the craft of writing, don't forget to play.  That includes all sorts of time-wasting activities like reading, daydreaming, and just plain old wasting time."

Michael O. Tunnell (author of Wishing Moon) says, "Sometimes a story isn't ready to be finished, as you say, until you've been through several drafts.  It's easy to be impatient with the process of writing, but one has to realize that first drafts are usually weak for most authors.  Everything improves as your rework the story over and over again.  This is the price you pay for something good eventually surfacing."

Holly Black (author of Valiant and Tithe) says, "The best advice I can give to a fellow writer is to make sure to write down all of your ideas as soon as they come to you--there's nothing worse than remembering that you had an idea but not being able to remember the idea itself."

L.A. Meyer (author of Bloody Jack) says, "All I can say is listen to your teachers--I was a high school teacher for seven years and sent two sons through public schools and never once met up with a bad English teacher--and write about what you know.  Keep a journal and put down the boring, everyday stuff as well as the exciting.  When you're reading a book you like, try to notice how the author gets from scene to scene, how he or she handles the dialogue, the descriptions, the speed and pace of the thing.  Above all, keep at it, but take it easy--you have a world of time before you...give yourself that time."

Cornelia Funke (author of The Thief Lord and Inkheart) says, "Read--and be curious.  And if somebody says to you "Things are this way.  You can't change it."--don't believe a word."

Eva Ibbotson (author of Island of the Aunts) says, "Just keep doing it--it's all about practice, getting better and sometimes even getting it right.  How you do it is individual to every writer in the world, but I wish you lots of luck."

Diana Wynne Jones (author of The Dark Lord of Derkholm) says, "Endings--yes, I know the feeling.  I always have trouble with endings too.  (But it is very important to know that you can finish a book you're writing.)  What our ending has to do is to collect everyone important together and explain exactly why the things in the rest of the book happened.  It helps if this is done in an exciting way, but it doesn't have to be wild.  And there are all sorts of ways to do this, from somebody getting there and explaining, the baddie threatening to plunge the main character in boiling oil--and telling him/her why he/she is doing this as our hero is lowered in (you need a rescue at this point of course)."

Gary Blackwood (author of Shakespeare Stealer) says, "I guess the best advice I can give you as a novice writer is spend lots of time planning your stories before you start writing.  Keep a notebook handy and jot down all your thoughts about the characters and what the story's about and where it's going and when you can't possibly bear to put it off any longer, then start writing.  I think you'll find that the story will go more smoothly and won't fizzle out somewhere in the middle.  Hope that helps."

It's really neat to look at the collection of letters that I've got because some of them are even handwritten notes on little cards.  I really appreciate the effort that these authors went to in writing back to me because I know how busy writers can be with their writing and re-writing and researching and the like.  Knowing that these authors made time to write back to me makes me want to do the same if I ever get letters or e-mails from people who admire my work.

A Letter to My Bulletin Board

Dear Bulletin Board,

It's the beginning of March.  I'm going to have to change you.  Very soon.  Or live with "Cheering Charms: A How To."  Because I'm definitely going to be here to stare at it.  Yup.

Bulletin Board, you're a massive expanse of corkboard covered in newspaper, and I've learned to call you my friend.  Sure, you're a mammoth and it's a struggle to cover every inch of you in information, but it's been a welcome challenge.  This is March.  This is my eight billionth bulletin board of my career as an RA.

Because I'm trying very hard to make the theme of my hall "Harry Potter," this month's board has to be related to Harry Potter in some way.  And it is.  Because it's about Palmistry.  I'll bet you're excited to have a deformed looking hand stapled to you so people can look at the diagram and compare their life lines to the hastily drawn line on the diagram.  I'll bet you can't wait to have people holding up their hands in front of you and trying to figure out if they have a square palm and long fingers or a long palm and short fingers.

Bulletin Board, please don't hate my stapler.  The last couple times we met, you were all cranky and you made the staples bend in all sorts of ways that staples aren't supposed to bend.  So let's not do that this time.  Because that would be really upsetting.  Also, if you can, please make sure that the residents refrain from drawing strange and distorted images of appendages they wish they possessed on you.  You know what I'm talking about, I'm not going to say it because this is a classy blog.

That's pretty much all I have to say, thanks, Bulletin Board, let's be friends.  :^)

Cheers,
Brianna

This is the board I ended up making for March.  It's about palm reading because I wanted to learn about palm reading.  Yeah, that's a hand.  I drew it.  This is why I'm not an art major.  

"Our mission is facilitating enjoyable, sustainable, and inclusive communities that support and enhance students' academic achievement and personal development."

- ORL mission statement

A Letter to Sleep

Dear Sleep (or Slumber or Lengthy Nap Time),

I'm really glad we're friends.  We haven't had too many difficulties during the past years, mostly because I've kind of established my bed as a place for sleeping rather than a place for doing other activities (get your mind out of the gutter).  I've been told that if you do homework or read in bed that it stimulates your brain and you won't be able to fall asleep as easily because your body's accustomed to working on intellectual things in bed, so...it won't let you fall asleep.  I don't know if this is true, but I tend to think so because Sleep, you and I get along pretty well.

Except I really don't like when you leave me right after I roll over.  This morning, I rolled over, I took the time to roll so that I was facing the only window in my little room, and my alarm went off.  You just stood up and left me in a lurch, whining under the comfort of my covers.  I really didn't want to wake up this morning.  It might have been because you and I were reunited a little later than usual, but absolutely positively did not want to wake up.

The only thing that's helping me cope with my losing you is the prospect of breakfast.  I can already smell the greasy cafeteria food breakfast delicious and my stomach's growling in anticipation.  And I can take home a muffin for tomorrow's breakfast, and maybe a banana that I can eat with peanut butter...my future prospects are looking pretty good.

But Sleep, I miss you.  A warm and cozy oblivious state in which I can dream of absolutely anything.  In fact, last night I dreamt that I was moving back into my residence hall, and I was driving a little car (backwards) into traffic.  Luckily I didn't hit anyone, so that was nice.

Sleep, can we be friends forever?  Just do me a favor.  Please don't follow me to class.  I saw you in business statistics yesterday, and it was a very near thing, we almost had that heart-to-heart conversation that I was hoping for, but I had to resist because otherwise I'm not sure how I would learn what a null hypothesis is.  (Although let's not kid ourselves, I still don't know what a null hypothesis is.)  And then you followed me to Management, which was bad, because it was warm in that classroom, and I was bored with talking about goodness only knows what...

In short, I think we're doing pretty well, so let's continue this relationship.  Although I warn you now that I may sleep with Nap Time.

Cheers,
Brianna

"Sleeping is no mean art: for its sake one must stay awake all day."

- Friedrich Nietzche

A Letter to Business Stats and Economics

Dear Business Stats and Economics,

You probably know me.  I'm the blonde girl sitting at the computer...front row, avoiding eye contact with her open e-mail as you write yourself all over the white board in black, sometimes green, marker.  You've definitely made eye contact with me, so you have to at least have registered that I'm around.  You with your unwavering scowl at the students who don't understand you.

Students like me.

When my professor's going over examples on the board and you're doing your happy little stats dance, I know what's going on.  The symbols on the board make sense to some extent.  Everything seems methodical.  When I'm reading the book, things make sense there too.  The bell charts look right, the examples stand out from the rest of the text, and I flatter myself that I might end up doing well in this class.

Then I attempt to do my homework.  And that's when I forget.  What's a t-distribution?  I'm not really sure what mu is for, but it's a good-looking symbol, I'd like to take it to the x bar before we catch some z's with the t-crit.  I'd like to see the curve on that bell and show it my degrees of freedom because the probability that I'll understand this problem is zero.  Might as well figure out something else to do.

It might be hopeless.  Which is okay, because my job prospects don't really involve numbers or statistics or the relationship between numbers and letters and statistics because thankfully I don't plan on being a math teacher.  I pray this never happens accidentally.  Business Stats and Economics, it'd be really great if I could Google you and you would tell me how you'd like to be done.  Would it help if I sprawled out across my tile in prime writhe position?  Or maybe cuddle up with my book on my bed?  Or maybe you'd just prefer the simple location of desk.  Because that's where my other homework gets done.  In theory.

Business Stats and Economics, I propose a truce.  I'll give you some lovin' if you'll be a little easier.

Love,
Brianna

"A study of economics usually reveals that the best time to buy anything is last year."

- Marty Allen

A Letter to Hospitals

Dear Hospitals,

I am writing to inquire as to whether you are intentionally uncomfortable or not.  I only ask because upon visiting a hospital today, I realized that hospitals make me nervous.  Number one, because my dad and I got lost because the hallways are inconceivably complicated.  For no good reason.  Number two, because it's a hospital.

Being in Resurrection Hospital in the same season that marks the birth of Jesus made me giggle internally, and then I remembered that that was probably offensive, and I laughed a little more.  All in my head.  This was only because I noticed the Jesus statue near the entrance of the hospital.  And the chapel.  And the prayer room.  I had no idea that there were so many places for religion to live in a hospital.

That brings me to my other concern.  Hospitals generally hold people who are ill.  Sick.  And sometimes on their deathbeds.  That's what you think of when you think of a hospital, right?  The dead and slowly dying.  But it occurred to me while we were wandering the hallways today that people are born in hospitals as well.  A place where death and life mingle, get together and have lunch, is bound to make someone nervous.  Especially the superstitious, which I am not.  Not too much.  Just thinking about a nurse tending to a newborn baby and then going to aid someone who's dying...is a strange thought.  Although I realize that there are different nurses for different departments (or whatever they're called in hospitals), the same idea holds.  Just a little unnerving.

The rows of closed doors.  The wheezing.  The groans.  The people rushing from place to place with purpose.  I swear my dad and I were the only two people in the entire building who had no idea where we were going, wandering aimlessly as we tried to find the door.  The machinery.  Heart monitors, oxygen tanks, gurneys...

Hospitals, I would recommend adding some color to your decor.  The nameless paintings on your walls do not, in fact, add to the homeyness of your halls.  I promise that the pattern of your carpet does not make me feel like I could stay there forever.  And the white?  So sterile, and it makes me want to turn around and walk out immediately.

That is, if I can find the door.

Cheers,
Brianna
A Concerned Visitor

I Meant to Write...

And that was when my pen ran out of ink...

Just as I was about to write that letter to you that I promise I've been meaning to write.  I mean, your letter's only been sitting next to my computer for about two weeks now, and I still haven't found the time to write back.  Maybe it's because I'm lacking in bright colored paper at the moment.  I'll have to scurry off to ORL to steal--I mean...redistribute some paper into my personal stores.

Just as I was about to write that poem.  I should probably have written it earlier, especially with all that free time I had in my accounting class.  And I had a really great idea too, about a nerdy Romeo and Juliet type thing.  It was going to be really funny.  Okay, well, maybe.  You might have chuckled.

When I really had to write down the assignment for my marketing class.  And notes for the murder mystery that I was helping with.  But that's alright, I have another--no, wait.  That pen's out too.  Two of my favorite pens, the Bic "crystal" black pens.  I love those pens.  They never run out!  I swear I still have one of them from my freshman year.

Right before the cops stopped me and demanded that I sign away my soul on a burrito wrapper.  I'm not quite sure what they were planning on doing with my burrito-smelling signature, but as it is...they couldn't have it.

Just as I was considering what black ink would taste like.  It was a sign.  I shouldn't try to drink ink.

Just as I got a great idea for a cure for the common cold.  I'm pretty sure it would work this time, I just need to add woolly socks to the mechanism that I already have in place.  The one made out of old paper clips, pencil shavings and used Post-It notes.  It's going to be big!

Right before life threw me a lemon.  So I couldn't even stab the thing and make it bleed inky droplets of lemony goodness.

Just as I was writing---

A Letter to Writer's Block

Dearest Writer's Block,

We meet again.  Oh yes, you know me.  At least you should, after that extended relationship we had for a good couple of years.  I woke up next to you every morning those years, and every morning I was disappointed.  You know this.  We did not part on amiable terms.  I'm sorry.

But I've found someone new.  It's Inspiration.  This relationship is everything I've ever looked for, and you know that because you got jealous every time I flirted with Brilliance at the corner store.  And I'm not trying to write this letter to torture you, I just feel that you need to know my situation.  I'd love to know what's going on in your life if you'd like to write back.

Anyway, Inspiration and I...we're like magic.  We stayed up until two in the morning, Inspiration talking while I wrote.  And I did write.  I never wrote while I was with you.  Now I feel the words itching my fingertips as I write.  You'd think that would be uncomfortable, but the words merge with my motions and flow onto the page with only the effort of creating a pen stroke.  I've written in the dark with Inspiration.  I've written in the morning, scribbling out words quick enough so they don't skitter away before I can pin them down with ink.

And it sounds great and all, but I have a problem.  That's the real reason why I'm writing to you.  I need your advice.  I know, me asking you for advice is akin to asking a brick wall to pick up and move to Nevada, but I didn't know who to turn to.  Inspiration walked out.  I woke up this morning and felt the space on the pillow next to me only to find what I feared I would find ever since this relationship with Inspiration began.  An empty pillow.  Inspiration must have snuck out some time during the night.  We weren't really talking at all around midnight last night, and maybe Inspiration wasn't really feeling it anymore.  We didn't even fight.

I want Inspiration back.  I'm not sure if you've seen Inspiration about, but it'd be really great if you could let me know if you have.  Because I need Inspiration back.  We had something great going on.  I wrote all the time, during classes, at home, on recycled paper and on loose leaf, with a fancy pen, and sometimes with one of those Sharpie pens.  It was amazing.  I even managed to blog a couple days in a row, and that was virtually unheard of until Inspiration showed up.

I'm a better person when Inspiration is around.  I'm more excited about life, I'm enthusiastic about my work, and it just feels so much better when Inspiration is around.  I may have been a little sleep-deprived, but it was worth it because Inspiration was there, and we could wake up with bags under our eyes together.  We could shuffle through the day without drinking caffeine because neither of us need it.  I was wittier.  I was more put together.  I knew what I was doing.  I never needed prompts for my Poem-a-Day September exercise, and then today I needed to use itunes shuffle to help me write a poem.  They weren't even my own original words, Writer's Block!  That's why I need Inspiration back.  I can't even find Brilliance any more, I think Brilliance might have left town with Passion.  I'm not sure though.

So if you've seen Inspiration, can you say that I'm sorry?  I'm sorry that I stayed up watching Mulan and drinking wine instead of writing poetry.  I'm sorry that I didn't walk Inspiration home after a couple tarot spreads.  That wasn't fair of me.  So I'm sorry.  Ask Inspiration to come back.  For me?  If you could do this one thing for me, I would be so grateful.  I'll take you out for lunch some time.  Please just ask Inspiration to come back to me.

Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.  I hope our time together hasn't meant so little to you that you won't do me this favor.  I would do the same for you if (God forbid) anything happened to you and Motivation.

Have a good day!

Cheers,
Brianna
The Lost Writer

"Enthusiasm is excitement with inspiration, motivation, and a pinch of creativity."

- Bo Bennett

A Letter to the Class Suck-Up

Dear Class Suck-Up,

Hi.  Hello.  I'm Brianna.  You probably don't know me because I'm sitting kitty-corner from you in the circle in that one class we had together.  We had another couple classes together during our college career, but I choose to forget those parts of my life because you were far too prominent in them.

So you like our professor.  I understand.  She's a nice lady.  I like her too.  She's my adviser, so I better like her.
So you've learned active listening.  Me too.  It's a good skill to have.  Especially when you're an RA like me.  I'm glad you possess the skill too.
That does NOT mean that you have to VERBALLY respond to EVERYTHING our professor says!  Non-verbal active listening yes.  Random comments and "oh yeahs" at everything?  Completely useless for the rest of us!  Spare us, please.  I beg of you.

I'm concerned that you enjoy the sound of your own voice.  I'm sure it sounds great to you when you're speaking and offering up commentary on every rhetorical question our professor provides.  Get that?  RHETORICAL!  Please do us all a favor and shut up.  For one class, I would like to write my notes in peace without having to hear you sharing jokes with our professor mid-sentence.  She was in the middle of saying something really important, and you laughed all of a sudden!  Unnecessary!  Please for the love of Shakespeare, close your mouth.  Please.

You know how professors tell us to have our personal conversations elsewhere?  I'm pretty sure that counts when it concerns having personal conversations with the PROFESSOR in the middle of class time!

And the accent?  I understand you just got back from studying abroad.  And I understand that you must have worked really hard to perfect that FAKE accent of yours, but please don't use it in class.  It's fake.  We all know it.  You know it.  Give it up.  If you have a desire to flaunt your pretensions in front of us, you can do it without a fake accent.  Please.  Have mercy on us.  Sure, it's even a good accent, I'm not disputing that, I'm just asking you to leave your study abroad vocabulary at the door.  I'm glad you learned something, I really am, but really?  You're really going to do that.  In the middle of class, you're going to whip out that accent like it's nothing.  No.  Not okay.

PLEASE.  For one whole class, if you can be quiet, I will buy you a pony.  I will personally walk this pony to your house and set it up in its very own heated stable.  It'll be a really happy pony, one that you can have all for your own.  Oh wait.  You already have a pony.

Sincerely,
The Girl Who Just Wants to Learn Without Your Commentary

Goodbye Summer, Hello School!

This morning marked the first day of my last fall semester in college.  I'm a senior today.  Much as I hate to admit it, I'm getting old, and by the end of the spring semester, I'll be graduated and embarking on a terrifying adventure into the new world.  Let's face it today.  I'm a senior.  And I'm still terrified.

As I was walking to my first class this morning (which turned out to be Senior Seminar, if that's not a wake up call, I don't know what is), I saw on the sidewalk the words (or something very similar) "Good luck on your first day!" and "Good-bye summer, hello school!" followed by variations on "<3 Greek Life".  I also wandered around campus a little bit and found that the well wishes from Greek Life had been altered or erased in some places.  Someone had changed "Greek Life" to "Greek Death" in one place and drawn dead fish around it.  And others wrote that "good luck" and "go Greek" are unrelated.

Now.  Let me throw something out there.  I'm not in a Greek organization.  I have no desire to join a Greek organization.  Well, not a social sorority.  I'm in an honors fraternity for English, but I don't think that counts.  Anyway.  No desire.  So a little part of me was annoyed when I saw that all the well-wishes were surrounded by hearts from Greek Life and also suggested that the reader "go Greek!"  I'm a senior, I'm not joining your sorority, I feel like I've earned enough years to be a little annoyed that you're bombarding the campus with what I'd like to call propaganda...but a meeker force tells me I shouldn't.  So I won't.  Even though the thought and sentiment are there.

Anyway.  Despite my slight irritation, I still enjoyed the messages provided by Greek Life.  I'm not stupid enough to hope that I have a horrible day just because Greek Life says that I should have a good day.  Maybe it's me, but even though I don't connect having a good day with going Greek, the thought is still there.  Someone, presumably a stranger, wished me well this morning.  So I appreciate that.  I'm just going to ignore the "go Greek" because 1. I can't and 2. I'd rather not.  Which is a personal decision that I'm perfectly fine keeping to myself.  Other than this blog post which just happens to be advertising it...no one reads this blog anyway, right?  (Melbourne...)  Point being, I'm going to have a good day.  I appreciate the thought, so thank you, Greek Life.

To the person or group who decided to alter/change/erase those positive (though subliminally advertising-y) messages, there is a time and place for your ire.  I understand that you're upset.  I understand that you want to make a statement.  If Greek Life had only put "go Greek!" everywhere, sure, go ahead and change those if you're really upset about it.  But are you really going to be so petty as to alert everyone to the fact that having a good day isn't connected to being in a Greek organization?

People who want to join a sorority or a fraternity are going to join regardless of whether you cross out "life" and replace it with "death" on the sidewalk.  If they're super dedicated to the idea of joining, that might even cause them to defend the Greek system against your wrath.  Partly because it's childish.  And partly because their loyalty has already been won.  So maybe I'm telling you it's a hopeless cause...but really what I'm trying to say is that it's a personal decision.  They have to choose for themselves, and ultimately it doesn't matter how many "go Greek!" flyers or chalk drawings they see, they're going to choose whether or not they join.  (for the most part, I'm not going to go into the Recruitment process because that's not the point)

What I'm saying is: back off.  There is a time and place for your anger, but the first day of school on chalk drawings that say "good luck" is neither the time nor the place.  Please, I beg of you, don't spread negativity on words that were meant to be innocently positive.  I remain optimistic that the people who were responsible for the original chalk messages meant first and foremost to wish everyone on campus a good day.  Their intentions were mostly pure.  Don't alter their messages just because you don't agree with who wrote them.  Would you do the same to Habitat for Humanity if they wrote inspiring messages and then asked you to join them?  No.  Probably because you would have to be really silly to do that...but come on now.  We're all adults here.

Aren't we?

Elle: I promised her, and I can't break the bonds of sisterhood.

Professor Callahan: Screw sisterhood!  This is a murder investigation!  Not some scandal at the sorority house!

- Legally Blonde

A Letter to the Craft Gods

Dear Craft Gods,

My name is Brianna.  I'm the girl sitting at the dining room table surrounded by newspaper scraps, colored foam sheets and a slew of pinking shears.  Or maybe I'm the girl on StumbleUpon (my greatest weakness) looking up craft ideas so I can make things out of Starburst wrappers or plastic grocery bags.  Regardless of where I am, I'm probably covered with ink or glue, so you can't possibly miss me.

I have a series of questions and comments for you, but I'll number them just to make everything simple for us.

One, how many of you are there?  It's just a matter of curiosity because I've never sent a letter to an unknown number of beings, so I should probably know how many copies to send so you can all consult your own instead of circulating one copy.  I would imagine you each rule over a different realm of the crafting world; one god for yarn crafts, one for paper crafts, one for sewing crafts, and one whole god for glitter.  Just glitter. It would also follow that there would be a god who manages all the financials for the group of you.  Perhaps a god of financial affairs.  Someone to take care of the crafting stores of the world.  Which brings me to number two.

Two.  Who is this god who manages the crafting stores?  I would like to pose a question about Michael's.  They have a good selection of just about everything from glitter glue to scrapbooking supplies to tie dye kits, but when it comes to sheets of foam, they just don't have what I'm looking for.  Having visited two different Michael's stores in the neighborhood, I was forced to conclude that only Hobby Lobby would answer my prayers for gray sheets of foam.  Why is it that Hobby Lobby is infinitely superior to Michael's, but can only be found in suburban areas?  Or in places like the town where my university is?  Is it because people in the city don't craft as much?  Maybe they don't have the time, but should that really be grounds to punish those of us who have both the time and inclination for crafts?  This gray foam is really a serious topic.  But I would like to take this chance to assure you that Hobby Lobby did indeed offer a wider selection of foam colors, and gray was one of them.  Thankfully.

Three.  Why is it that glitter glue costs $2.99 a bottle?  I'm not talking the gigantic bottles full of enough glitter glue to cover a small car, I'm talking the baby bottles of glitter glue.  $2.99.  Which is ridiculous.  You can get glitter glue in any color you can imagine (at Hobby Lobby) for the base price of $2.99.

Four.  I would like to thank you for your generosity today, because without you I would never have found the final color for the door decorations I'm making for the RAs on my hall staff.  I promise it would have been disastrous if I had been forced to spray paint white foam gray.  I can just picture myself purchasing gray spray paint now...probably more than $2.99, but at Home Depot.  I shudder to think.

I am forever in your debt.  May your generosity never wane.

Cheers,
Brianna

"Other kids did drugs; I did crafts.  I never knew where I fit in."

- Kathie Lee Gifford

A Letter to Prince Charming

Dear Prince Charming,

My name is Brianna; I got your P.O. box address from a friend of mine (you might know her, then again you might not, she's the one sitting on the couch behind a book as big as her head) and I would like to take this chance to say a couple things.  For your convenience, I shall number them.

One.  I would like to compliment you on your perfection.  You really are spectacular.  It's alarming how charming...you are.  I would love to know who designs your wardrobe, because I'd like to talk to them about a wardrobe for myself.  Anyway.  You're perfect.  Not only are you devilishly attractive, but you're witty, intelligent, alluring, brave, adventurous, self-assured, and of course, highly desirable.  In fact, everyone's looking for you.  That brings me to my second comment.

Two.  Where are you?  I keep hearing about people looking for you, and I have to admit that I picked up a raggedy map that promised it would divulge your location, but I probably would have been better off using a GPS.  You seem to be lost in some unplottable location because I haven't seen on any Facebook statuses that someone's found you.  I would have thought I would hear by now.  If you've been lost for so long, it's only a matter of time that someone'll find you.  Maybe you should hold a press conference and give some clues as to where someone can find you.  Only the cleverest or most devious people need apply, unless you have clones that you can give to the less than worthy.

Three.  Where did you come from?  If you can't tell me where you are, the least you can do is tell me where you're from.  I'm guessing you're not from an alien planet or a different dimension (unless you're The Doctor), but you had to come from somewhere.  Who are your parents?  I get the feeling that you were raised by Optimism and Imagination with Disney as a close godfather who came over for dinner weekly.  Nurtured on the food of dreams, happy thoughts and pixie dust seasoning, you grew up to be your perfect self.  The most desired man in the world, right next to Mr. Right.  Unless of course you're the same person, but that's another question altogether.

Four.  What are you looking for?  Brains?  Brawn?  Beauty?  I know a couple people who would be prime candidates for your consideration, so if you're interested, you should really give me a call: ***/***-****.

Five.  What are you waiting for?  I find it really interesting that girls and women of all ages are looking for you, even though the majority of them wish to be pursued by you.  So are you waiting for them to find you so you can give chase?  But what if you're tired of the chase?  Where does that leave your ardent admirers?  I can tell you right now that if you just come out of hiding for a little while, you're bound to get laid almost immediately.  I say "almost" because it might take a little time for clothes to be torn off, but all the same, you'd be in pretty good shape considering you're in high demand.  If someone were selling you, they should hike up the price because there's only one of you, and everyone wants you.  Just think of the profit that people could make off of you...  (Cynical Brianna pipes up and points out that's how Godfather Disney did it.)

Six.  This may be a radical idea, and you might not agree, or this paragraph might be the reason why you don't write back to me, but can I be my own Prince Charming?  Theoretically, all I have to do is transfer those complements I gave you to me, and then I could be devilishly attractive, witty, intelligent, etc.  I'm not talking narcissism here, I'm talking self-love, which is a milder and healthier form of narcissism.  Would that be cool?  Would you be okay with that?  I'm saying that if I become the type of person I would find desirable, would you come out of hiding and introduce yourself?  Then there's the whole thing that maybe I would be too much like you that we couldn't get along, but we could work it out, right?  But if I become my own Prince Charming, will I still need you?  I also wonder if there will be other people in the world that will be drawn to me and my Charming-ness and maybe then I could settle for the court jester or a traveling minstrel or the jack-of-all-trades I saw working on repairing the waterwheel in town.  At that point would it still be considered "settling" if I had the attributes I find desirable in Prince Charming and then love between myself and a serf?

Don't get me wrong, I'm still a huge fan of yours, you're still on my Christmas AND birthday wish lists since just about forever, but if there's only one of you, and there are how many me's?  I'm just trying to figure things out so everyone can win.

Anyway, if things don't work out with Cinderella/Snow White/Rapunzel/Sleeping Beauty, give me a call.

Yours ever,
Brianna

P.S.  I found this super cute poem that I thought you might enjoy: Prince Charming.

Prince Charming vs. Dragon

"Someday your Prince Charming will come.  Mine just took a wrong turn, got lost, and is too stubborn to ask for directions."

- Unknown