consider it, considerate

The Worst

There is about 1.2 ounces of motivation left in my body. That is a very miniscule amount compared to my average amount of motivation ounces. You see, I am the over achiever of over achievers (excluding Paulina). I always find the will to do the strenuous amount of homework. But right now, I am finding myself to just tell (I do talk aloud) the work that I do not want to do it. I do not care about it. Therefore, I am not doing it. It has worked pretty well…until now. I had this blog to write, which I (until recently) had no ideas for. I have to write this annotated bibliography/book report about The Scarlet Letter, which I managed to read but failed to comprehend due to my lack of interest and focus. I still have a worksheet to complete over “The Raven” by the famous Edgar Allen Poe…that I just realized I had to do. I did successfully finish my chemistry worksheet this morning during review time in trig. Look at me go. I am so efficient. My strategies went pretty well…until now. LEXI ANGRY.

More about the end of school…

The seniors are leaving me. All alone, is me, little Lexi. For example, I will be the only one in Cabinet for two class periods. Well I have Mr. Scott…but that’s not exactly a good thing to be left alone with him. I am also pretty sure it’s a violation of that new G something rule thing. I have all these finals which I convinced myself I didn’t have since most of my friends (seniors) don’t have them. That was GREAT. Graduation is at 8 p.m. on Tuesday, which means I will probably get home around 10:30 or 11 p.m. THAT’S WAY PAST MY BEDTIME. Like two hours, yo. It’s not like I can skip out on it either; I am helping with diplomas and crap. This also means I have to look nice and wear things like heals. I am so thrilled. Jumping up and down. Can’t you tell? That’s what I get for being student body president next year. Go me.

Right now, I’m pretty much the worst.

Comfort

As a child, I thought the one thing that for sure was a gift from god was dogs. Dog is God backwards after all. The furry, happy, and unconditionally loving creatures were my greatest comfort. People that know me would say they still are today.

My first dog that I remember having was Dixie the yellow lab. I was five or six when we picked her up from the breeder. I was thrilled to have a companion, since my peers at school didn’t seem to quite accept me. She knew how to sit, lay down, bow, “bow to the queen” (run to my mom and bow), run along my mother without a leash, roll over, shake, “touch down” (jump up with front feet raised above head), and well…you get the idea. All this was learned within less than a year. She really didn’t exhibit many puppy-like tendencies. All of you that have had Labrador puppies or just puppies in general, know that that is freakishly impressive. Dixie, my mom said to my sister and me, was an angel that was God’s gift to our family. When Dixie was diagnosed with a rare disease that slowly disabled her immune system, Mom told us that God needed her back. My best friend in the whole wide world left my life after living just a year.

I was dog deprived. I would sit waiting at the windows near the front door, watching for a dog to walk along the neighborhood side walk. I thought this was completely normal and expected out young elementary children. During the summers, we would always be at horse shows. Dogs were very popular with horse people, but they often tied their pets up during the day. In order to give the dogs the proper amount of exercise they needed, I would go up to these complete strangers and ask to walk their dogs. Safe to say, I didn’t know strangers at horse shows for much longer. Eventually my barn would ask, “Where is Lexi, and whose dog does she have?” Again, I thought this was completely and utterly normal.

My parents finally came to grips that they needed to get another dog to keep their child sane. And then came my Border collie, Brittney spaniel, Australian Sheppard mix, Sydney. The rotten thing that still lives with me today at nine years old. She cuddled with me through some extremely tough times.

Four years later, when Sydney was staying at my Dad’s, my mom got another yellow lab puppy. This crazy specimen, Sammi (or as I like to call her, Samwise), is my wonder dog. She isn’t the smartest or the best-behaved dog on the planet, but she has the most capacity to accept and love that I have ever seen. She will let you push her off the couch, forget to feed her, or be angry at her, and she will still without a doubt love you. She will look you in the eyes like you are the gift she has received from God.

This unconditional love, this free of judgment relationship, this furry companionship, will always be my comfort.

So Gifted

This afternoon, approximately at 1:20 ish, Dave Davis, the infamous HTV supervisor/director, pointed at the white board while glaring at his students. “None of you have blogged, you pukes,” he calmly yelled. The board listed a plethora of topics that he crafted for us HTV kids to blog about. One topic read “Your gift to Hillcrest”. Since I am pretentious, and so is that topic, I choose to blog about it. So here’s my blog:

I am so freaking gifted. Most people don’t even realize it even when I am standing right next to them. It’s not like my awesomeness hits them like the sun’s UV rays. Its actually stronger, my awesomeness are gamma rays penetrating throughout your whole body. I’m even more blessed by God than Dorial Greene-Beckham. Ivy League schools don’t even know who I am, and they already have realized that in order to keep the prestigious title of an Ivy League Education, Lexi Bryan has to go to their school. Mizzou? Not good enough. I’m bringing real talent to hipster-crest. What talent you might ask? …

Angry

I have four followers. I am so angry. SEVEN MONTHS WASTED!

Scared

My sister has had it easy. She has known that she wants to be a vet since she was eight years old. Many people have no clue what they want to be when they “grow up”, and neither do I. My worst fear.

We go through our life, envisioning this flawless future. Unfortunately no ones life ever turns out like what the dreamed of. Often I hear of people making a living by doing a job they hate. I take my career path very seriously, because my career will be a giant factor in my happiness. 

I’ve researched being a publicist, press secretary, hydro engineer, psychologist, zoo keeper, administrator or manager, sports anchor, neuro psychologist,counselor, actuary, statistician, political scientist, physicist, occupational therapist, nurse practitioner, producer, and everything else that I could possibly do with my life. Crazy, right?

I’m scared that I wont be doing what I like, and regretting my poor decision for the rest of my life. My future is so important to me. Make the one life we are given count, right? 

Do it. I Dare You. I Double Dog Dare You.

Dear Universities and Scholarships,

You guys think by an ACT score and a GPA that you can judge my intelligence. But you can’t grade me. Nope.

SO, you use my ACT score to deem me ‘worthy’ of your precious university. In other words, those questions accurately measure my intelligence. A question that asks me to decipher an experiment in one minutes and answer a series of question about rabbits and wildflower seeds. So wait, I missed it, when am I ever going to use this talent?

Don’t misinterpret me. I will probably have to make sense of some graphs in whatever I do with my life. And I will probably have to balance a algebraic equation. And skim a random passage for only five minutes. And then answer a series of random questions.

Yeah, that’s how to do it.

I can’t forget to mention the school system flaw. In order to get a 5.0 GPA, sophomore and junior year require five honor/weighted courses. Wait, each honor course is only offered for either one or two blocks. And wait, I should take AP classes that should help me in my college degree. AND WAIT, I should take art courses, which are also limited to which blocks they are offered.

So I either follow the system to have 5.0, or I do what I enjoy.

Obvious.

Specifically to the scholarships. Sorry I’m not strangely tall or short, or a race other than white-Caucasian, or an amazing athlete. I’m smart, but not freakish. I can communicate well, plus I’m not socially awkward.  People seem to like me, and I always follow through. Do I get a scholarship for my insides? Nope, my outsides are too normal, even though I have a brain that looks the same as my African American friend.

Do it. I dare you. I double. dog. dare you. Judge me now.

Sincerely,

Lexi

I’ll Never Forget That Day

Humans like to make lists. Normally they are rankings. 

• Best Days Ever
• Worst Days Ever 
• Best to Worst First Days of School
• Best Vacations
• Best Friends
• Favorite Teachers

All of these lists are in specific order.

This - I don’t do.

I can’t remember “that day” or “that vacation” specifically. I’m not going to remember a whole day, let alone make rankings of them. That takes up too much memory. I can tell share great memories of moments in my life, but not the date, nor the time.

Why waste time and space in your brain remembering all the specifics. Just remember that feeling and who you shared that moment with. That’s all that’s important. For the bad stuff that happened, just let it go. Let it fly from your hippocampus and roam free in the abyss so you will not have to relive it again and again in your mind. Forgiving and letting go of a grudge is hard, but totally worth it. Live new memories, don’t be stuck in the old ones. 

You Dirty Bum

Slackers.

They bother me to no extent. All they do is whine about having to do things other than sit on their butts and things for themselves. Like, really? Are you kidding me?

The world does not revolve around you, you dirty bum.

If you don’t get anywhere in life, don’t blame your mom or your teacher. You did it to yourself. So be nice and smile, this is your life and you chose it. It’s not my fault you’re middle aged and working at McDonalds and you cant even remember to make me a smoothie thats mixed berry, not mango pineapple. Maybe you should try harder. Life is hard, get used to it.