A Look Back: It's Summer Again

5/14/07

I'm glad school is out! I'm not sure that the reality of summer has actually sunk in. Maybe it is that I'm afraid to see my final grades and am in a state of denial. I've been avoiding broncoweb/blackboard, all weekend. It is not like I can do much about my grade, at this point, but I'd rather not know my test scores, if said test scores are disgusting. You know the old saying, "ignorance is bliss?" Yeah... touche' goes out to whomever first spoke such wisdom. Not that its original meaning had anything to do with college finals. Ha, I laugh. Okay, so I probably did fine. *Sigh.* It is just that my motivation level had dropped into the negatives, during the last few weeks of school and it is extremely hard to do anything, let alone study, during such dips of will power. Then again, it is not like I didn't study... I DID, but I feel like I could have done better. Oh well... WOOHOO!!! SCHOOL'S OUT, FOR THE SUMMER!!! I'll be happy now... :).

What's in a Name?

5/11/07

Don't ya love how friends tend to give out random endearments. I've been called all sorts of things (Brookie, Brokee, Brooklynne, Brook-a-lyn, Brooklynnderson, Bond, Burp, Zipper, Jessica, Magdalena, Schmookie ,and etc.). The list just keeps getting bigger. Good times? Sure, why not. Do I have a favorite nickname? Not really. As long as the person using the nickname and the nickname, itself, are a decent combination, all is well. I'm going to have to say, though, that Brooklynnderson has a creative zing to it. :)

Why do we give nicknames, anyhow? Any ideas? In the words of Shakespeare: "What's in a name?" After all, "a rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet."

I have a cousin who's parents gave him the middle name of Korky. It was, though, recently changed to Johann Henry, a common family name on his father's side. He went from a little strange name to one that is now monstrously long. Who's to say which is worse? What do you think? How would you like to bubble in the following (on forms and such), the rest of your life? My cousin's new name is 88888 88888 88888 888888888-888888888. Phew, just typing it makes me want to take a nap!

My middle name has no genealogical significance, but it is lovely. In fact, once or twice, I almost considered having people call me by my middle name. What would that be like? Hmmm... I don't know. I was blessed with three very nice names and will respond gladly to any of them. What can I say, my parents did well. :)

You're How Old?

5/5/07

People tend to think that I am older than I really am. I suppose it is probably just assumed, because of my collegiate circumstances. At least, hopefully this is so. I would rather not simply look older, especially in the latter years of my life. Being a 40-year-old with an 80-year-old's appearance does not sound very appealing.

General Eds

3/14/07

General Eds have not been my favorite aspect of college, but it is certainly nice to nibble on a wide selection of fields and topics. I have a feeling that I'm going to miss the variety, when my focus is completely on my chosen degree. I'll have English coming out my eyeballs!

Declaring a major does seem almost too concrete (kind of intimidating (not that a slab of concrete is intimidating... Unless, of course, you are randomly falling to your death)). I am pretty sure I've decided on a good one, for myself, but a shade of doubt makes its way through my thoughts, every once in a while. A person can change his or her major, of course, but I'd rather not take "forever" to get through school because of such indecision. Ya know?

The Ups and Downs of Me

3/6/07
Remember how I told you about my mood issues, and how sugar makes me feel diseased, etc.. Well, as of late, the diseased feeling has been extra terrible, and I've been shaky with heart spasms, and such. It has not been very enjoyable, to say the least. Thyroid issues, and blood sugar level problems have a history of occurring in folks from both sides of my family. Because of this information, and the pure fact that my issues were really rubbing on my nerves, I headed to the good old doctor's office. I told him my symptoms and he agreed that it could be the two problems mentioned previously. For testing purposes, I had an EKG and my blood drawn. I'm a wuss when it comes to needles, and almost passed out. I had a good nurse, though, and she only needed to jab me once. THANK GOODNESS! With the test results, we've decided that I am hypoglycemic. This explains a lot. My hard past months, with bipolar mood swings, were probably caused by low blood sugar. I'd go and buy a blood sugar level tester but I'd never use it because of my insane phobia of needles. I can handle other people poking me (if I have to, I guess) but when it comes to the stabbing of myself... such thoughts are NO GOOD. "The horror!" I mean I've tried to do the poke your finger thing. It failed miserably, and I ended up in tears. It sounds ridiculous, and it is ridiculous, but it is true.

*Anyways*

As i was sayin'... I am starting up a "Happy Brookie" food schedule. This schedule requires that I eat something about every two hours. It is kind of annoying, but totally worth it. Snacks that contain a mother-load of protein have become my best friends. It is amazing how much a person's health affects everything else in life.

Early Morning Predicaments: Segment III

Here Cometh the Flood

Falling in and out of a freezing and uncomfortable slumber, Brooke began to dream. She could the see headlights of a car coming up the road. It was stopping in front of her house! In the haze of her subconsciousness, she excitedly watched as a young man walked up to the truck. Jason, one of Brooke's friends (who was leaving for BYU), had come to her rescue!

"Hey!" He said. "So... I kept getting this really random image of you dressed as Princess Leah and calling out, 'Jason, you are my only hope.' I figured that, since I couldn't get your princess Leah-ness out of my head and the roads are kind of slick, I'd better check to see if you made it home okay."

"Jason! Princess Leah, huh? Telepathy really does work!!!" she happily spouted.

"What about Telepathy?"

"Umm, never mind"

"Ok...?" he replied, looking slightly confused. "But, if you don't mind my asking, what are you doing in there?"

"Oh, you know," she sarcastically answered. "A girl can't help but enjoy the luxury of sleeping in a Ford pick-up, once in a while. The Ameritel Inn charges a bank-load for one night in their 'Hitch-hiker's Abode' room, but I'm all about doing the real thing for free. First class dirty towels, old t-shirt coverlets, plastic arm-rest pillows, a glorious windshield view of the night sky.... It's the perfect sleeping arrangement!! NOT!"

She explained the truth of her situation to him and they shared a laugh as he proceeded to open her door. She was free, at last! Stepping down onto the icy pavement, she thanked him. "What a gallant thing for you to do, kind Sir... opening a lady's door and all." She giggled and enthusiastically hugged her liberator.

After their joyous embrace, Jason's nose suddenly began to shine. It beamed brighter and brighter, until his whole body was gone. It was as if, due to a case of spontaneous combustion, he had been reduced to nothing but fire. The next thing she knew, the setting and objects in her mind mutated until the ceiling of the truck blurred into view.

Waking from her dream, Brooke was glad to know that Jason hadn't really burst into flame. All lovely thoughts of him and his rescuing her were smothered, though, by the sad reality of her early morning predicament. Having found tape, in the jockey box, she had decided that sticking a piece of cardboard over the cab light would block most of the glare. This had assisted her in sleeping more comfortably. Apparently, though, her tape job had failed and the cardboard barely dangled above her. Having the light revealed again, disturbed her dream and she was anything but pleased. "So much for sleeping in darkness, not that I was really getting much sleep."

The inside of the car was cold enough, when she was exerting energy, but the chill worsened as she lay still. Wondering if a change in position would do her any good, she sat up. The vertical movement brought an unexpected pressure upon her bladder and she knew that, unless she could find some way to relieve herself in the next minute or two, the future of her dad's truck interior would not look or smell very pretty. She had managed to forget about her full bladder, until now. At this point, though, no manner of mind-control tactics could spare her.

With crossed legs, she looked about for some sort of container that would be suitable for the task that she dearly wished to perform. Boxes would not do; she was not about to deal with soggy cardboard. Plus, thoughts of the stench from an open box full of urine was enough to trigger her gag reflexes. The cranks of her creative brain were turning at high speed. Every object in sight suddenly became a science project. Could she somehow transform a flashlight into a toilet... ish... object. "No." How about a camera case? "Not really." Perhaps, a water bottle would do the job. "Or not," she snapped, wishing-- for the first time in her life-- that she was a boy. "If I could only aim!"

Concluding that her inventive skills lacked, she decided to give prayer another chance. After all, she had done what she could and was now in need of a serious miracle. "Please, Heavenly Father, I need your help!" she whispered. "Surely you love my daddy enough to save his car from an explosion of my bladder. I need to pee, like no other, and I need you to help me get out of this car before it happens! PLEASE!!!!!!!" She closed her little prayer in the name of the Savior and then tried her lot at using faith. Grabbing the handle, she took a deep breath, and pushed against the door.

Even without the use of thee's and thou's, Brooke's prayer was answered and the door flew open as if it were never jammed! Her response: "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH!!!! I'm free... I have to pee, but I'm free! Yes!!! Bathroom, here I come!"

It may be hard to believe, but-- with the stinging wind-- the temperature outside of the truck felt lower than that of her previous imprisonment. She would almost prefer to remain huddled on the seat of the truck, but she knew that she needed only to trek to the backyard, through the sliding door and into the house to be warm and one step closer to emptying her gallons.

"I'm almost there" she encouraged herself, as she waddled over the icy ground. As she reached patio, snow began to fall. "Please be open," she pleaded, yanking on the sliding glass door. It flew open as easily as did the door to the truck (after her final prayer, anyways) and she felt a hint of warmth as heat found its way past the blinds. Her hands reached in, to move the blinds out of the way, and felt that a chair was blocking her path. "Are you kidding me?" she murmured. "Honestly!" Crouched on the ground, with every muscle in her body devoting itself to the cause, she wasn't sure if she could spare enough strength to push anything out of the way, without losing control.

Figuring that the chair would need to be moved for her to enter the house, whether she wet herself while moving it or not, she stood up. In a matter of seconds her muscles seemed to give up the fight. It was as if a dam had broken! A flood of pee burst forth with great force and in one full and continuous flow! A warm wetness rushed down her legs, darkening her jeans and forming a yellowish puddle in the snow. She was sure she'd never urinated so much in her life. If she hadn't stopped soon, her back yard might have become one very large frozen pond!

She was much relieved, when her tank had fully emptied and-- looking down at herself-- she easily converted feelings of embarrassment into gratitude. She would have preferred the comforts of her warm bathroom, but decided that it was definitely better to have a puddle of frozen Brooke Pee on the patio as opposed to a mess of nastiness on the carpet of the hallway.

The extra warmth felt nice, at first, but her clothes soon started freezing to her skin. Before any icicles had a chance to form, she stripped off her soaked clothes, pushed the chair out of her way, and streaked upstairs. Desperately, she hoped to remain unseen. In her opinion, running into her father (while sporting nothing but her birthday suit) would have been quite disturbing. "No thanks!" she thought, quickly tip-toeing to her bathroom. "I have had enough excitement for one morning."

After tossing her dirty clothes into the tub, she rinsed them and herself off with soap and water. She then readied herself for bed, peeled out her hardened contacts, and jumped into her gloriously soft bed. "It's over," she sighed with relief.

The clock on her bedside table read 6:04 a.m.. It had been hours since she had said goodbye to her friends and headed home. As she lay there, wrapped in three fluffy comforters, her thoughts replayed all of the events of the night. She smiled as she remembered how God had heard and answered her prayers. She had been very blessed. And what a story she would have to tell, if ever she was to give a talk on the power of prayer!!! Closing her eyes, she could picture her frozen puddle of pee and it made her laugh. "Try and catch me complaining about cold toilet seats, ever again," she whispered to her pillow as she hugged it tight and slipped peacefully into a restful sleep.

The End.

Early Morning Predicaments: Segment II

Failed Attempts at Telepathy

"Well this is quite the situation; now, isn't it? What more am I supposed to do?" Brooke piped, feeling more and more annoyed at herself (for getting locked in the car), her dad (for having a car with useless doors), and everyone/everything in the world (simply because she was not in a good mood).

She was sure that her parents would eventually stir (to go to the bathroom or something of the like), notice that the lights were left on and the door not locked, and decide to check on her. All, but the latter, of these thoughts were correct. As she sat in the lit truck, feeling like a fish in a fish tank, Brooke watched the house as the lights were switched off. Neither her mom nor dad came out to retrieve her and she was saddened as a bit of hope faded. Her parents must have seen her things and figured that, because it was so late, she had forgotten to lock the door and turn out the lights.

Many cars sped past and she tried to signal them. Sadly, though, no amount of flailing her arms or endeavors at flashlight Morse Code brought any of them to a stop. She thought about honking the horn and, as an omniscient narrator, I say that she definitely should have. For some reason (low blood sugar, exhaustion, or just plain old stupidity), she decided against the idea and focused on other things.

She began to pray for help: for the door to miraculously open, for someone to come to the rescue, for faith that things would turn out alright, and for some brilliant idea. Nothing seemed to happen-- even with her continuous attempts at slamming against the door, fitting keys, and channeling someone telepathically.

The scene from Star Wars, where Princess Leah is seen recording the message: "Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are my only hope," popped into her head. Surely she could send out some kind of thought wave. "Aren't all humans supposed to be connected spiritually , somehow? Come on, Heavenly Father, help a woman out. Send the Holy Ghost to inform others that I'm having issues, please." With that, she began to focus. She was bent on reaching possible rescuers with her thoughts. "Mike Lott" she said, trying to connect with her dad, "I know you're awake because I just saw you turn off the porch light. Now this may sound ridiculous, but I'm sitting out in your car and would be ever so grateful, if you could come and save me. Please, come and find me!" She repeated this process about a dozen times with several different people and then waited for results.

For what seemed like an eternity, nothing happened. Frustration welled up inside her and, all of the sudden, she burst into tears. Every harsh emotion she had been feeling (the stress of an up-and-coming music competition, the emptiness of having her friends leave for school, and etc.) seemed to combine until an emotional bomb formed and exploded. She hadn't had a good cry in ages and her negative energy had found a reason to surface. After a bout of sobs, she luckily found a roll of toilet paper and was able to take care of the after effects of crying .She then resumed her efforts at escape.

Having lost most of her motivation and noticing a dull ache in her shoulder, she decided to give up on body-slamming the stubborn door and turned her focus in another direction.--Sleep. She didn't have access to a clock, but she was sure that quite a bit of time had passed. And besides, she had been partying, non-stop, the past couple of weeks and her young body was yearning for some shut-eye.

Digging through her father's work supplies (piano hammers, tuning kits, and the like), she scrummaged up an old t-shirt and a dirty towel. Covering herself with these, she lay across the seat. Every position she formed was uncomfortable in some way or another, but she didn't care anymore. It was not like she had much of a choice and, seeing as how she was definitely spending the night in her dad's truck, she was determined to get some shut-eye!