Jeepers

"There's my car!!!" yells a friend as some fancy schmancy Mercedes whizzes by...

It makes me think.
Pimped out rides in Los Angeles are a dime a dozen, so maybe I've become immune to the glitz and gaudy Hot Wheels of Beverly Hills. But they do nothing for me, When people ask what my dream car is, I've only ever had one:
The one I let get away.

When I turned sixteen years old, I was looking everywhere for a Jeep Grand Wagoneer (prefereably 1988). I seached and searched, and I recall that I did find a potential sale, someone who might let me adopt their oversized baby, but they had already sold it by the time I was let out of school the next day. Sad day. I ended up with a 2001 Jeep Grand Cherokee.

When some think of my dream machine, they might get nostalgic flashbacks of Chet Ripley and his family in (my famlily's cult classic) The Great Outdoors. I don't know if the fact that I can quote this movie start to finish has anything to do with this ongoing fantasy that I have of owning a wagoneer, but after watching The Great Outdoors this weekend with the family, my instinct tells me it's quite likely.

Reuniting with my family has been glorious. But my parents took it to a whole other level by asking one simple question,
"Hey Brynn, do you still want one of the old Wagoneers?"

"OF COURSE!! Why?!?!"

"Well this family at church is selling theirs, and remembered that you always told them about how much you loved their car. Someone else wants to buy it, but they came to us first, so it's ours if you want it.."

"YES!"

"It needs a little work, but I'd get 'er fixed fixed up real easy" My dad comforts me with his broken Utah Verbiage. The man is an inventor, his hobbies are fixing up cars and looking at parts on craigslist. I trust all of these words he's putting into the universe. He's already talking about installing LNG (natural gas) - saving the earth and the pocketbook at the same time.

Now, Time is of the essence as I await the arrival of my child.

Carry The Zero

I'm at a standstill.
I don't know what to do with myself.
What to do. What to do.

I'm 22 years old.
I've got a whopping semester and a half of college under my belt.
I never wanted to go back to school unless I was completely sure of what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. To continue would be a waste of my time, energy, sanity, and a waste of my parents dollar dollar bills y'all.

I go between Journalism and Fashion. Fashion Journalism perhaps? Or Do I just want to be a stylist? What about a chef, a baker, a jewllery maker?

Shortly after becoming a college dropout I took a detour; Modeling. Hey, It's hard ass work. Literally, your ass itself is getting payed. Ok, yes, At times it can be easy, Example: I remember I had a photoshoot over in Palm Springs once at this adorable all white, 50's style hotel, it was for for these Japanese Clients. At about 2:00 they decided they wanted to wait for the sun to go down. So I went into my hotel room and watched trashy reality TV on VH1 for roughly 3 hours while I ate my veggie sandwich, cheetos, and my topped it off with a Kit Kat. I couldn't understand a thing anyone said- other than a few words I picked up in Tokyo a couple years ago. So I didn't really communicate with anyone, I stayed in my own little world in my own little head, all day long. That job was easy breezy and walked away with some cool cash (actually the checks always come in about 90 days). And it's days like that where I wonder why I ever want to say Sayonara to being a slab of expensive meat.

HOWEVER- there's the flipside. The castings and constant criticism (which- thank god- I have incredibly thick skin so it rarely bothers me), it's the "How are your measurements?", "how is your skin?", "Can you squeeze in 7 castings today- on foot, in the rain, oh and good luck finding your way around this country of which you don't speak the local toungues"! While I naturally and clinically am "underweight", in order to make more money, it's always a good idea to lose a few inches from here and a couple centimeters from there. I don't care about my hair, I haven't dyed it since my wedding in '04 at my attempt to go darker, and I haven't cut it in over a year (shh.. don't tell). I don't care about moisturizing, plucking, or peeling. And Who are YOU to tell me I look TOO YOUNG for a bridal job? I was a Bride 3 1/2 years ago Jackass! I'm not 16, can everyone please stop telling me I look it? Ok, this is where I get slapped and told to be thankful for what I do.

Some fantastic friendships have been formed throughout these years, and I wouldn't have met these people any other way. I love my bookers, my agent, the models who aren't "Models"; the girls who just happen to model, but have a lot of more interesting things about them, other than how they "work their angles" and "how to say no to carbs". I fell in love with a gay makeup artist who was swedish, he once lived in beverly hills, who now resides in Greece. I enjoy the lengthy phone calls from my booker TJ, that frequently trail off into a conversation of nonsense and laughter.. I never want to put down the industry that's already viewed on such a superficial and shallow level. It is a real Job, It's hard work, And to be honest it kind of reminds me of Shopping for chic finds at Thrift Stores. You have to get through a lot of nasty, offensive, used up, and rotten articles of clothing, But you bet your bottom dollar that I've walked away with things that are now my most favorite pieces in my wardrobe to this day. Same goes for the people in the "industry". Some of the people have made me want to vomit in my mouth, shoot myself in the foot, and rip off my earlobes... yet others I completely trust, love, and am utterly thankful for.

Anyway, I am supposed to email pictures of myself in a bikini to my booker in LA tonight. Today is day 1 of my "lady time of the month" and I'm not in the mood to strip my pasty, bloated, and tired self into a bikini, which always feels so out of context anyway when your not on the beach. While the friendships and experiences are major factors of what keep me puttin' along. The dollar signs give me that little push and that shove. And in saying that, Off to New York I go in a few weeks.

So. What to do? Do I quit? Do I keep riding the "Do you think I'm pretty?" wave? Do I focus on a full time job that allows me the occasional muffin-top and spotted T- Zone? Do I continue and juggle with another steady job? Or School.... Do I go to school? What For?

While in Port Townsend, Washington this weekend, I came up with the perfect solution to it all: Start the creation of my long awaited dreadlocks, triple the amount of flannel in my closet, buy some Teva Sandals, increase the granola intake in my diet, and sell my jewellery by the beach in the Great Northwest of the U.S.A. Now there's an Idea.

Snake and Jeans are a GREAT look.

I was thinking back, and I believe that it has slipped my mind, and I have NEVER shared with the world- one of the most inspirational and moving videos- ever. I had to reach back into 1987 behind my snake and Jeans, lace, and ostrich feathers, then dust it off with my backcombed hair... And I present you with a true woman of inspiration and worldly advice.




brace yourself for part two.



I hope all of you - be it male or female- find yourselves at the conclusion of this video, feeling like an intelligent woman of strength and knowledge.

In hopes to add some much needed drama into my fashion wardrobe; I'm off to hunt and kill a fox to drape over my shoulder.


*Note to College partygoers looking for a drinking game: take a drink everytime she says fashion, I guarantee you will get tanked*

Do that Daaaance

One thing I've come to realize on this family trip:

There isn't much of a difference between a 3-year-old and a grown adult (or at least myself).

Nothing can lift your spirits more than a fantastic medley of melodies- the modern day mixtape - a damn good playlist that Makes you Moooove and Groooove.

In any instance where we've had an open window of some time to kill; Temio (my 3 year old nephew), Andrew, and I have dedicated a good amount of time going bananas to some crazy cool tunes.

Mr. T (Temio) has grown a liking to certain songs, which suprisingly are some of my favorites to shake it - or as he would say - "squiggle squiggle" (as he shakes his bum), and boogie down to.

I compiled a playlist of all of his favorites and burned him a CD that is forever his own.
"Mr. T's Dance Grooves"

His #1 Choice is "D.A.N.C.E." by Justice, I think partially because he can count 1-2-3-4-5 along with it, over, and over. And when it says "Do that Dannce!!" he continues to add an additional "do it do it do it"- it's his personal Mr. T remix.

"Ready for the Floor" by Hot Chip ( which he insantly told me not to say "shit", but I assured it it's Hot Chip, like a spicy Dorito) gets his little limbs tossing themselves around while he Announces "THIS ONE MAKES ME CRAAAAAAAAZYYYY!!"

I can only 100% agree. If you haven't had a quality dance session to some Hot Chip, "do it do it do it now".

Here is the Official debut of Mr. T's very own, personally compiled, Squiggle Squiggle Dance Mix.

move 'til you can't move no more.

I think I mentioned that I went to the Cut Copy show on monday.

When I go to a concert, I check my inhibitions at the door. Most likely you can find myself and my hair, up in the front all over the place. One of my best buds Shaleah came with me and while everyone else in the venue boozed and schmoozed, we were strictly business as we made it a goal to get front and center. We made it to 2nd row and center.

Lets keep in mind I have been bedridden for close to a month now... Because, monday - I did NOT keep that in mind.
I pretty much went From Zero to 100 in a matter of hours. Meaning that my body hasn't really moved since, well Coachella. And I spent my monday evening partying like it was 1999. Today I feel like I woke up from a coma and got right up and ran a marathon.

My point being, I have to pack to leave for Portland today and I CAN'T move my body. Yesterday I was sorue but I thought I would be better today, but the pain and cramping throughout my calves, anlkes, arms, back, ribs, neck - has increased! Last night my legs kept on cramping and curling up like a potatoe bug, and I can barely walk to the bathroom.

I do have to say, this was a great sacrifice made, I traded in the good health of my limbs for my own sanity. It was the perfect night to cash in my "sick" card.. My spirits were lifted with each hop, skip and jump throughout the night. I did however, feel like an old lady because sporatically, I thought My body was going to give out on me unless I got some water, so I had to swim through the mass amounts of people and sweat to get to the Bar to get my bottled water.

We were able to chat with the lead singer at the after party, he was actually the DJ for the Party, which is weird to me, that's kind of like the bride serving the cake at her wedding reception, isn't it?? I told him that for what it's worth; they were my top 3 out of everyone at Coachella ( And I mean Prince performed, so that's some stiff competition). He claimed that monday was just as hot as Coachella, and I said that there was arguably and most definately a difference - I wasn't passed out from heat stroke - and no, I didn't say that to him, I keep my ailment stories for close friends and family.





--- An honorable mention from monday night---
This past weekend I was talking to Andrew and Vince about when I saw Cut Copy at Coachella, and my biggest memory from their show was this 65 year old man with a white beard, and a neon hat, jumping Up and Down and all around, then the dude turned around and faced Lyndsay and I with the HUGEST smile just bouncing up and down screaming something to us. And He was FEELING it ( "it" being the music, the booze, or possibly recreational drugs he'd saved up from the 60's).

Being that this man was one of my fondest memories of my weekend binge of amazing music and shows, I clearly could pick him out of a crowd. WELL- I did. As Shaleah and I waited for the show to start, I started looking around and getting to know my neighbors for the next few hours.... AND WHAT DO YOU KNOW!? That SAME man was the only person keeping us from being FRONT and CENTER. The same dude!
I tapped him on the shoulder and asked "hey, were you at coachella?" He's like "Yes I was!" and I went on to tell him that he was right in front of me at coachella and then stated "You must be a Die Hard Fan eh?". " I JUST LOVE MUSIC!" he concluded.

Life Goal: in 45 years, be just as head over heels for music as I am now.

National Lampoons: Jones Family Vacation.

Tommorrow I leave Los Angeles destined for Portland, Oregon.
Shortly following; we all will hop in the car and roadtrip our way up the west coast to Puget Sound, Washington.

The whole crew is going. Along with every pet, including my brother and his son's turtle; Isaac.

and now my photo montage and tribute to you all.
My Parents, my big sister and her new husband, my big brother and his son, and Andrew and myself too i suppose. Of course Our Dogs Chelsea and Pounder.
Let the adventures begin.

Whole-y Moly!

I am weird about breakfast. I don't like to start my day out too full, because then I just feel lazy. I can't eat cereal because milk makes me sick, and I know I could buy soy milk, which I do love, but I don't really like cereal that much anyway.

Most mornings, what always sounds best to me is a few different pieces of fruit (preferrably bananas, strawberries, raspberries, peaches, and blueberries) chopped up, and tossed around with some sugar (why did I just question myself about sugar being spelt with an "sh"?) on top. Either that, or a nice bowl of hot oatmeal will do just fine.

Whenever I go out to breakfast with friends or family I always feel boring because I always just check the menu to see if there is a fruit bowl... Although a big contributing factor is that being vegetarian, sometimes that just seems safest.

This morning I woke up craving some nourishment. Yesterday I didn't even really eat much and I went to see cut copy last night and danced around like crazy.... I feel like I was Jazzercizing for 4 hours.(i know, i know, I am still stick, but I'm going stir crazy, and I needed to dance the night way to save my soul). It's one of those mornings where you wake up and wish you could just snap your fingers and have a huge assortment of everything you can think of; served to you on a silver platter- in bed. So I was scanning the possibilities as to where I could get my nourishment without all that overprocessed crap.

DING DING DING

Why have I NEVER thought of whole foods?
Never!

I am here to tell all you crazy kids out there, that Whole Food's breakfast bar is the BEST idea anyone ever had. Thank you lord. Although Whole Foods DOES in fact take advantage of it's health concious customers and holds them hostage with their overpriced organic goodness, but I'd say it's worth every penny.

I am also weird about eggs, I never really eat them unless my body is craving it. I just had an 2 egg-white and asparagus omlettes, a potato medley with peppers and onions, some fruit, yogurt and granola.

I think if it didn't cost $19, I'd start my day like this every day.

I give the Whole Foods breakfast bar for two Green thumbs up!!
And to all you meat eaters- i'll have you know that there is an array of meat options too, it's not just vegetarian.

And I'd like to thank andrew for picking it up for me and bringing it to me in bed. It wasn't on a silver platter, but the brown boxes made of recyclable goods is OK with me.


Also, if you google "whole foods breakfast" there is a list of early bird dishes and they include recipes as well..
bon apetit!

work while you whistle

Last night I opened a can of worms.

Andrew was playing the guitar and I started to whistle along.

My whistle, Is not through my lips, it's simply through my teeth.

It's the old fashioned whistle you may hear at the grocery store exiting the old wrinkled lips of an 80 year old man, or through my personal experience- the sweet melodies that danced through my Nana's teeth whether she be cooking, cleaning, or driving. She whistled away her worries. Her name was Joy, and that's exactly what she brought to a room when she whistled: Joy.

If my whistle is the only good thing I inherited from my Nana, I'll take it.

I'll have you know, I most definately can smile from ear to ear, while whisting any tune. Sometimes I even try to convince myself it is a form of ventriloqy.

I wasn't tired last night, and when it comes to laying awake at the mornings earliest hours, I take anyone down with me that I can. As we all know, misery loves company. And while I wasn't miserable- it's the same meaning- just that my well being wasn't at risk, so not misery; just plain boredom loves some company.

In preparation for my plot to keep Andrew awake; I programmed the right side of my brain to play the music of our itunes library on shuffle, I started to whistle Random tunes while Andrew had to guess.

It started with Nirvana,I then jumped to Oasis, Britney Spears, The Beatles, Mason Jennings, Michael Jackson... I mean I was pulling from all corners of the musical Universe.

As our Jam Session nered the end. I was completely dissapointed to find Andrew stuck on a certain song,
So I decided to stay within the same musical artist, and switched to another song.
Still, he had no clue, soon I found myself referencing up to 7 songs recorded by none other than Modest Mouse, one of my all time favorite bands. Nothing.

Although modest mouse is definately not known for their beautiful melodies and ear catching beats, I made it loud and clear; "These walls are paper thin and every one hears every little sound...Laugh hard its a long ways to the bank!!"

"A wild pack of family dogs came running through the yard one day".

And I thought I was clearly spelling it out for him when I played this card: "I got one two three four, five, six, six, six runnin round the neighborhood perjorative, jinx he said the groom's down on me cuz he ate the rice
It was well intentioned but BAD ADVICE!! Hell yeah.. yeah.. yeah"

eventually he did get it, and we relflected on the last 9 minutes, and how I clearly hit every high and low note. Where did he go wrong?

Why wasn't he getting the songs of an old band that we both hold so dear to our hearts? Was it my ability and skills lacking as my "gift" was tested? Or was it Andrew just slowly fading into his night's slumber? How come it took only one verse of "Oops I did it again" for him to know that exact song?

Is he harboring a true love for pop music, while fronting a psuedo Love for the less sparkley bands?

Justice served.

While I was being hydrated via a bag of water, a tube, and a needle... My fellow coachella Peers enjoyed the last day, and the last hours of the music festival going crazy to the one and Only; Justice.




Oh, well.

I know most everyone was extremely jealous of the almost 6 foot tall chick who paraded through the desert outfitted in an electric color of turquoise, head- to- toe, whose arms alongside the coachella wristbands, were decorated with hopital wristbands and a handful of packaged graham crackers compliments of the Palm Springs JFK Emergency Room.

At least I got to hang out in a really breezy, large pair of turquoise scrubs.

not so newlyweds.

My sick days have found me surfing through many blogs, those of which I hadn't yet discovered.
I found old friends, College friends most of which are married, some with a baby or two. Most of my "college" (I quote college, because my 1 semester actually in school out of my 3 years there, wasn't so college-y) friends I met at BYU Hawaii, a mormon based college; Where many flee to wed as soon as you can vote, and baby production races couples to their one year anniversary.

And these people I dearly love, because I too - am one of these people. Well at least formerly attempted and tried. Therefore I have an even greater appreciation for those of true success.

I find myself once again in black-sheep-ville.
Jack and Jill, Jane and Joe, Sam and Sally have Covered their blogs with beautiful wedding photos, happy days and hip hip hoorays. I myself flashback to my baby-less blog of long documentations of my ailments and illnesses, all the while Andrew asks if I'd make an effort mention him every once in a while.

So here I am.

we've been married about 3.5 years.
we've shed blood and we've shed tears
2008, aint been so great.
2007 not quite a slice of heaven.
2006 was pick up sticks
2005 we felt so alive
2004 opened the door, of marriage. sweet sweet marriage.

I'm not a huge fan of false advertisement.
It's always been a pet peeve of mine, whether it literally be an ad in a magazine promising to increase my A cups to B cups(which really wouldn't happen without a scalpel, silicone, and a pretty penny. Thankfully I quite enjoy my A's.), declaring false testimonies of religious faiths, or those putting on a happy face while unknowingly, anger driven steam shoots out their ears.

I deinfately have the mindset of "to each his own"- but I have been given both a blessing and a curse of a ...what can we call it? "Free Spoken" glitch that permits my mouth to speak before I think, To confide in the lady next to me at the nail salon, and share intimate stories with the world wide web.

I wouldn't say that there is trouble in paradise, if it were circa 2006 when we were still living in a shack on a tropical island- that would be more fitting. Oh, the days of paradise.

Andrew and I are the best of friends. We both have the humor of a 15 year old boy. We share the athletic abilities in slam dunking our double stuff oreos into a crisp, cold glass of milk. We enjoy debating and agreeing on political subjects. And we enjoy an intense game of scrabble- where I most likely win and he tries quitting half way in, while I drag him through until my ultimate victory.

On a deeper level you'd say things in our relationship are relatable to John Denver's description is to Colorado- Rocky.

Tonight we spent several heated hours contemplating our destiny and our future. We are two human beings tryin to chose the right, and trying to do the right. We'd go back and we'd go forth. Our religious beliefs clashing, while once I rode this wave in a silent and stealth manner- nodding my head while keeping my mouth shut, I now disagree and debate all that I once coasted along with. Our lifestyles taking us down different paths. It's a struggle. But we have this friendship that is our last thread, that extra button sewn into the inside of your jacket, that patches thing up when things fall apart.


While dangling on that last thread of despair, Andrew says "hey, we might as well listen to those CD's your parents sent us"

Rewind back to a few months ago, I was on the phone with my mom, I was talking about the realities of the Jones-Gomez home and the struggles. My mom patiently listened and stated her support in any which way we fall. I know it's hard to hear that your doubtful daughter is agreeing to disagree with her lawfully wedded dreamboat. But she understands, She's been married for about 32 (?) years or so (Sorry I should know the exact amount).

THE NEXT DAY (after our phone conversation)

I open my front door, and there rests a package Addressed to both andrew and I. My mom had burned a dozen CD's, which are filled with motivational tips, tricks and tools to a successful marriage. She carefully Titled disc #1, disc #2, disc #3 and so on.... The icing on the cake being that my mom had so cleverly photoshopped onto each CD a picture of Andrew and I all dressed up at my sisters wedding.

Comic relief when unintentional, is Comic relief at it's finest. Not only was my mom sending us these CD's but placing a photo of a happy couple wearing pretty clothes. Pretty much saying "Remember the good times guys?! Ca'mon Remember?" Who would have known back in august '07 when we took that photo, we'd be gracing the cover of over a dozen marital counseling CD's? Smile, you're about to become the poster children for endangered relationships.



Along with the CD was a book and a sweet note. She puts the sweetest notes in every package she sends, and not one is ever signed off without her signature smiley face :) We laughed at how freaking cute it was of her. She obviously was frantically worried for us, to spend those extra bucks to OVERNIGHT this package to us. I suppose we were sending out a verbal S.O.S. And she sure did the best she could, and Pronto!

We started to read the book that night, but it kind of fizzled. Sorry mom. We may give it another go.

Ok, So fast forward until today.
And we finally bust out the CD's by suggestion of Andrew.

During the opening sentence, I can tell - it's a guy from Utah...My favorite.
A Utah mormon, is like a pineapple from Hawaii- The Real deal, and almost too much to handle. (I can say this because my dad is from Utah, so I was born into these verbal rights)
Mr. Motivation spits out statistics and information about how men and women's brains work. How to communicate, Interpreting, Being accountable for your words. Everything a mormon motivational speaker could offer - He delivered. Although personally Andrew and I both agree that we "dislike" those who just generalize how men and women think and work. We are all soo damn different aren't we?

being that an arguement led up to this last cry for help, we sat on opposite sides of the bed while listening to this on my MacBook.
(When we situated the macbook, we hadn't realized that it was proped up on top of Andrew's blackberry. This is a key factor in this story)
In all of our silence and tension that could be cut with a knife;
Every once in a while Andrew would fess up to a "I do that, don't I?" and I would nod my head in agreement.
I'd spout out an arguement on how, I'm not like the typical "woman" and he's not the typical "man".
"I'm not like that" I would contest. "yeah" andrew said.
" You've kind of been deprived of that, huh?" he'd realize..... "yeah" i'd agree abrubtly

although our words were short, we were agreeing, while I tried ever so dearly to not fall asleep, those Utah accents are just so soothing.

After about an hour of listening (and not being even half way through it)
Andrew's blackberry rings.

being the gentleman that he is, he ignored the call.

his cell phone rings again. It's the same lady. A big wig from work.

I tell him to pick it up

"ANDREW! Whats going on??!" she exclaims "I'm at dinner right now, and after your tenth call to me, I got worried and so I decided to call you back to see if everything is OK?!"

"......." Andrew is silent.

"We've been listening to your crazy voicemails, what were you talking about?!"

"......What did you hear?" I can see the wheels turning in his head. Did she hear our attempts at the foreclosure of our marriage? Did she hear us lsharing with one another our laundry list off our faults? Or worst of all.....

(remember the MacBook was resting on his blackberry, which somehow was repeatedly sending calls to the woman)

"OOooooh." Andrew says as his face turns to a beautiful color much similar to a juicy ripe tomato. "Uh, yeah. This is going to sound really lame. But, My wife and I are laying in bed listening to a motivational speaker. My inlaws sent us these CD's... hahaha....ua..yeah,,..haha."

I hadn't seem him this embarrased in a loonnnng time. I mean This was a colleague of his. Not his buddy, not his sister,
It's Some lady he knows on a business level, who now knows US on a personal level.

he had only dug himself into a deeper hole by saying we were " In bed" listening to a "motivational speaker". Although he said it's better if she thinks we're upping our A- game in the sack, as opposed to the reality of us desperately grasping onto the last remnants of the potential of our future together.

"WHAT KIND OF MOTIVATION ARE WE TALKING?!" yells her friend from the dinner table. I guess after message #9 that motivational speaker John L. Lund left on her voicemail, everyone at dinner had taken turns trying to decipher what kind of crazy messages Andrew in California was leaving her. So the whole table was in on it.

Tears start streaming down my face.

This is the laughter that is rarely produced unless stimulated by the laughter of my mother or sister, then if in the case of this laughter- simutaneouly, my mom and/or sister double over as we shimmey our way into the "silent laugh". Sporatically the silence is broken by a squeal or a squeak, as our eyes produce salty rain drops that grab our mascara by the hand, and frollick their way down our cheeks.

This laugh, made it's first cameo since, I don't know when.

"I am soo embarrased!" Andrew tells her while laughing hysterically "Hey, lets keep this between me and you" he continued. she laughs, he laughs, And I silent laugh in the fetal position.

"My wife is crying. She is laughing so hard, she is crying"

all we can wonder is what chapters she had recorded and documented onto her message machine. Was it Mr Lund's flashbacks about his parents' relationship? Was it him telling us how our significant other needs us to talk to them? Or was it our sparse but ever-so-revealing commentary?

We were laughing like we hadn't a worry in the world.
We stopped listening to the CD's.
But we did find out there was a purpose for those CD's after all.

once again, those damn CD's brought us comic relief.


This my friends. is our life. This is the stuff that goes on behind closed doors.

Things are far from anywhere near perfect, but thanks to our lucky stars that we have some amazing abilities to get ourselves into the most humbling and humiliating situations, so much that it's tough to take even ourselves seriously.
We're still together,
making it past one more fight...
Leaving it at that, We called it a night.

Mind Over Matter

We all know it, I'm sure we've all said it, but have we really experienced it?

Mind Over Matter.

It's that extra 15 minutes on the treadmil- just mind over matter, you can do it.
It's moving that heavy television from one corner of the house to the other.
It's toughing it out at work, when you feel like someone turned the temperature up on your forehead about 13 degrees yet you're shivering and have a rash, just mind over matter, only 4 more hours of work...I'm fine.

I'd like to say this concept is a very American concept... Although Wikipedia begs to differ.

It was started in China.

I can see how another hard working country brought to the world the man who coined this term an philosophy. But I honestly feel as though America has taken it and run with it.

Millions of people in the U.S. clocking in overtime hours daily, ignoring their bodies warning signals - alerting them - "this is too much!", Going that extra few miles in a marathon- only to conclude in blood, blisters, and bandages. Crunching in last minute mid-term papers and study sessions; all the while the sun bobs up and down, taking it's night shift while zombie like humans don't take theirs.

What are we doing to ourselves?
I understand that sometimes we do need to mentally give ourselves that pep talk to go forth and onward. But I see my peers and passerby's completely burning themselves out. I understand that marathons are rewarding and hope to participate in one in the future. I just remember in Hawaii when everyone came from Japan to run a marathon, and seeing them all dropping like flies in such anguish and pain... To me, I'd rather take a nice walk, or go on a hike somewhere beautiful.

This seed was planted in my brain one night as I sat awake thinking of how I got to be soo sick.

Between traveling and the tons of personal stress going on my my life, I tend to neglect my body as my mind is just so wrapped up in it's self. I would still be going about life, putting my body and my health on the backburner as I attempt untangling my mangled mind. That is, until it completely and literally burned out on me.

If I am totally real and honest with myself, I've pretty much physically felt lousy, not awful, just a little under the weather, through most of 2008. I told myself that "no one ever feels exceptionally GREAT, so I'm fine". My mind is so brainwashed into thinking "If I don't think I'm sick, I'm not." But like the old saying goes - or kind of goes- If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, it's a damn duck. But we all can sit there and say 'Actually it's a goose, the cousin of a duck... So it is definately not a duck.' Yes we talk ourselves out of common sense when we need it most.

I THINK, and this is just my humble opinion.
It is, essentially, BODY over MIND.

Our minds can't work unless our bodies our fed properly. When we fall off of a building and break our leg, our mind doesn't magically piece it back together. When we juggle our days with stress, work, and errands, what does that leave us with? A few hours of sleep to start the nasty cycle over again. People aren't even taking their lunch breaks, shoveling food with the left hand while typing away with your right; is hardly- no- NOT considered a break.

This is why I feel it's a very American philosophy.
If you go to Europe, you will often notice that around lunchtime, everything is shut down. This is the siesta. America throws that idea out the window once we all graduate kindergarten. The seista is a time for a nap, after you enjoy your scrumptious hearty lunch, you rest and relax.

Can you imagine that here? The land of drive- thru's and 24 hour stop and go's ? What one EARTH would the lady with the bluetooth earpiece, who text messages til her thumbs are numb, while ordering lunch for six with only twenty minutes to do so- what would she do with her time? This is where it's tricky... When we're given an open time slot in the day, it's rare that we think "Oh, oh good. I'm going to go take a two hour nap." We've already got plan B, C, D, & F lined up just incase there's time for more.

So All I'm trying to say is- COOL IT. Yes, you, I'm talking to you.

we all are tricking ourselves into things that aren't natural. We have emotions. We, come to find out, are not robots. Time flies, not only when your having fun, even more so when you have no respect or quality time with it. Yes, quality time with- time.

Mind over matter can work. And temporarily it gets you from point A to point B. But mind over matter doesn't seem to care about your feelings or well being, in the process. I mean really, what does laying on a bed of nails for an hour do for you as a person?

Sigrid

I'd like to dedicate today to a very special lady all the way in Portland, Oregon. The woman who spent her high school years cheering on "The Cheesemakers", The lady who was dubbed most beautiful woman in the world on a daytime television game show. A 55 year old Woman who you can find outdoors playing basketball or soccer with her 3 year old grandson. The woman who would never hurt a fly- and probably take it in as her pet. The most stubborn and strong willed norwegian that I'll ever meet:

Mom,
Thank you for putting up with my craziness thus far in life, and I thank you in advance for continuing to do so. Your a Rock Solid lady, who I can only dream of someday coming close to amounting to who, and how you are. We've been through thick, thin, rocky, and smooth...And I'm not talkin' milkshakes (Although the numerous trips to the Tillamook Cheese factory would beg to differ).
To this day, I still find myself telling others about the lunches you'd make for me; the shamrock shaped sandwiches on St. Patties day, My ALL pink and red lunches- with a heart shaped sandwich on valentines day, my spooky halloween treats, and my favorite of all- the sweet little notes which always concluded with a smiley face, on just your average day- just because :) You must be running on energizer batteries woman, because I see you now as a "Nana" and you never cease to amaze me with your cutesie and clever nature, still going strong, that comforts our family. You overachieve in a nonchalant and humble way that is always noticed but never intimidating.... Someday you're going to have to tell me what you're smokin' 'cause I'll definately need some of that. You're Beautiful inside and out, and it only takes seconds for anyone to realize it. I'm not gunna lie, although we do measure up at about the exact same height, and both have size ten tootsies; I will always look up to you and aspire to fill those shoes of yours.

I LOVE YOU MOM!








p.s. I have a lot of Jaimi's old pictures on here from her wedding slideshow, so I know that cute little strawberry blonde girl is indeed my big sister. Cause ca'mon my baby pics wouldn't look THAT vinatge ;)

my first last supper

It's 1:22am on Thursday night/Friday morning.

And I am on a food high.

I finally had my first REAL meal since really, like 2 weeks.

Although the mono diet has me fitting into pants that haven't seen the light of day for a while, I need me some REAL food!!

You see, one of the side effects is loss of apetite. And I am one person who RARELY loses their apetite. But in the last 2 weeks I haven't been able to find anything apetizing at all.

Tonight around 8:00 I was near tears because I wanted food but nothing sounded good, I felt sick, I didn't want to burden Andrew to go out f his way and get me anything... And I just wanted to feel full and satisfied for once. So finally, I decide that I want to go to one of my favorite places; California Vegan.

I go there and stare at the menu for....ever.
Eventually I do decide.
I ordered the yellow curry with soy chicken (like chicken patties but made out of soy), brown rice, and a side of vegetables. YUM.

So I get home prepare my plate. I take everything out of the bag; and I have a container of curry and a box of vegetables... And that's it.
"There's supposed to be rice in here!!" I complain with my weird robot-mono voice. I felt like a spoiled little child not getting exactly what she wants. So I called back and asked them if the yellow curry comes with rice, and the dude replies "Yes, there should be rice in there"

"WELL...there isn't."

It's like a couple on their wedding night without their Slow Jams. Sure you can go ahead and proceed, but it's not going to be the SAME experience. I need my rice to appreciate my curry.

So I tell them that I'll be there to pick up my rice in 5 minutes, I send Andrew over there, and in 5 minutes my life is complete.

I shoveled that stuff to my face like it was the lasssst super.
Just as I was getting started, I was - FULL.
I stopped in the utmost disappointment. My stomach had shrunk!! So I gave myself an intermission and then dug in again. And again. Until everything was gone except some left over curry (I wasn't tryin' to spend the whole evening on the toilet).

That was the most accomplished I have felt all week. A Real, Full, healthy meal residing in my belly.
Of course I had to top it off with some yogurt covered pretzels, then called it a night

I was thinking back about how at coachella we averaged 1 meal a day if we were lucky (not including our staple cheez-its)! And that was two weeks ago, since then I've been on my deathbed not eating properly. I'm almost mad at myself, and find myself mustering up accusations of self neglect. No wonder I'm sick - I done betrayed my body!

Even if I don't eat again for another 2 weeks, that meal was well worth it.

California Vegan- Although you lack customer service, you make up for it as your curry does the tango with my tastebuds.

don't haayte

just becauthe I'm in the ninth grade doethnt mean you can tell me what to do.



If you got a problem wit it- i'll punch you in yo face.



if I wanna do drugs, it's none of your bithness.



and if I wanna have these hickeys ALL-OVER-MY-NECK, it's none of your bithness.



so what, if i took durty pictures on the bathroom floor, it's none of your bithness.



- 9th grader on maury povich


Wow, daytime television is classy.

going nuts

While I was in Greece.

I formed an addiction, and it wasn't pretty.

I would re-route my day, and go out of my way so I could get my fix. My mind was always consumed with when, where and how I could get a bag. Whenever my friends and I would walk past a shop where I could possibly get my fix, all heads turned towards me "Brynn, do you wanna stop?".
And quite frankly I saw the difference and the toll it took on my body.

I'm not talkin booze or drugs. I became addicted to nuts.

Street vendors were selling them, and little shops of fruit and nuts would sell them. And In some places, the amount you could purchase was endless. Very, very dangerous.

These nuts were usually peanuts (although available in almonds sometimes as well).

They were bathed in this Honey/toffee/buttery goodness. Then most likely tossed into a bin of sesame seeds as they danced around until they had their full, glistening coat of pearly seeds.

My favorite dealer was by the Parthenon. The man was probably in his 60's, has a tooth or two missing. And always seemed just as excited about these nuts as I was. He had a little stand which was on wheels, but always parked. There was always a big light shinning down to showcase the nuts. There they lay, they were still warm, and they came in a little bag, so I couldn't overdose.

There was also this trusty shop by Kanigos Square, where you could fill a bag with AS MANY nuts as you want. The more I went to better the shop man got to know me, and the prices got better. This is where I felt like an alcoholic in a liquor store. It was uncontrolable.

I came home from Greece unable to properly button my pants, and I'm sure I've got those nuts to thank. But I still love them with all of my heart. Before I left I filled up two bags FULL of the nuts. One for andrew and I, and one for my family back home. I must tell you, they didn't last a WHOLE day in either home. That's how hardcore these nuts are.

Fastforward a few weeks into my being back in America... I was strolling down the aisle with Andrew at Trader Joe's and scanning the nut section intensely.

DUN DUN DUN

there they were.

"Trader Joe's Sesame Honey Almonds"

Like I'd been parted and then reunited with a long lost love, I grab a few bags with glee. Anounce to the aisle how happy I was, and prepare for checkout.

as soon as we entered the car, I busted open the bag, and devoured.

I've got good news and bad news.

These nuts are very very delicious. But I'd definately call them the "poor man's" version of the kind that are tucked away in the Streets of Athens, Greece. These aren't toasty warm, they don't leave grease marks on the bag, and the nut- toffee- seed ratio is just not as up to par... But they suffice.

So all in all, I'm still a recovering addict, taking one day at a time. My mom sent me a bag along with some other sweet goodness when she found out I was sick, and the bag is still not empy, and It's been here about 5 days.

Now, THAT is restraint!

I reccommend these if you have any sort of self-control. If not, Good Luck!

brought to you by...

I just wanted to take a moment, and thank the companies who are sponsoring my mono-thon.

Glaceau- for providing me the various nutrients through your bright and colorful Vitamin Water

Gatorade- although your regular sports drinks give me crazy heartburn, I couldn't have gone a day without your fit water beverage; Propel (preferrably berry). I will continue to quench my body's thirst for your vitamin enhanced h20.

Tylenol- I'm sure other products could have delivered just at well as you and your rapid release gels, but you were on sale, so thank you for that.

and last but not least

Saltines- You're often the butt of all jokes in referrance for your lack of charisma, but I appreciate you. You're simple and salty, just what i need.

that was so last week.

can I just say, that I was reading back on my posts from like a week ago, and boy oh boy was i OUT of it, typo's left and right, I feel like I don't even remember writing it. Some of it doesn't even make sense at all. I remember not being able to look at the Computer screen without feeling like I was going to vomit. It's pretty priceless though, to know how awful I felt then and to realize, hey - I'm doing a little better now :) at least I can (sort of) make sense while writing again.


so strange.

so so strange.

a beastly time for beauty

not gunna lie,

I feel quite selfishly sloth like at times. I mean seriously, "Take it easy"- ya I can HAPPILY handle that request, "Take it easy"- for a month? Hard pill to swallow.

So,
Ive gone ahead and done things I normally don't...set the time aside to do,

I've given myself a manicure, pedicure, shaved my legs (yes that's special), Scraped all of the dead skinn off of my feet (I was disappointed to not find much material to work with). Given myself an 'acne' mask, a moisturizing mask, a Green Tea Mask, BRUSHED MY HAIR ( I never brush my hair), made several pieces of jewellery (which I always spell wrong), folded tons of laundry. And cleaned the house- which wasn't really taking it easy, but whatever.

I'm going to be quite the high maintainence diva by the time I let this mess run it's course. In my head I'll be all healed by friday, but I bluntly keep on getting reminded over and over and over how long mono lasts. Thanks Grandma ;) So when I'm healed, I'm about to march on outta this little luxury apartment like Ms. Ivanka Trump herself!

food for thought

About 4 years ago I quit cold turkey. And when I say that, I mean literally Turkey, along with any other food that was once alive. Yes, you heard me right (Uncle Gary), not even fish. While most all of my family members remained baffled at my decision, I easily never looked back. Since I was young,sitting at the dinner table I'd always grill my family about what animal we were eating and why... As I grew older I rarely ate meat. It wasn't appealing. And as much as I love food, I love animals more. I couldn't bite into a steak or chicken breast without thinking of what the poor animal went through in order for me to be eating that $25 steak.

This past week... I've carved a nice imprint of my ass into our couch. I've invested some quality time with my couch. Napping with my couch, making jewllery with my couch, and watching endless commericals - which lead to controversial discoveries on my part- with my couch.

this is where things get a little wild and crazy..

So I have NEVER seen a burger or steak on television and thought "I want that....now". Sure, maybe sans the meat, replaced with a meatless patty or extra condiments. But Cow and all? Never, not since I've become a vegetarian.

Since I've had mono, these commercials pop up and all I can think about is how I really could use a steak or a burger.. not even use one, but I've noticed major cravings here and there. It could most definately be because my food intake as of late, has subsided on saltines, vitamin water, and the occasional tomatoe soup. Word on the street is I most likely developed mono from stress, exhaustion and my immune system breaking down. So maybe my body is telling me that I do infact need that protein. I don't know if I can actually get myself to partake, but it's back there stewing in my mind whenever I hear the Outback steakhouse jingle, which- by the way- was ripped off from Of Montreal.

So the question is to meat? or not to meat?

I've got enough time on my hands, to research where I can get those nutrients from other sources besides meat itself. But we shall see...

Puget Sound...the sound I like to hear

My mom called.
Since I have a whole lot of plans of sitting around for the next few weeks, she proposes a glorious idea for memorial weekend. I'd say it's brightened my spirits quite a bit and given me something to look forward to. Especially since waiting for mono to go away is far worse than watching paint dry. So, I'll give you the 411.

My family growing up had a condo on the coast of Washington in Puget Sound. We always took every opportunity that we had to go there, preferrably when it was hot - and in Washington that's pretty atypical to bask in the sun. But we'd always make due with what Mother Nature dealt us. Usually each kid was able to bring a friend, and we brought every pet we had. No kidding- I remember one thanksgiving we brought our 2 dogs, cat, snake, and 2 mice (that I saved from being eaten from the snake). We ourselves thought we were nuts, but sometimes it's just easier than asking someone to tend to your animals. Actually, it's definately not easier- but sure as hell entertaining.

Theres a swimming pool, hot tub, sauna, then you've got your tennis court, hiking trails, bike trails, fields, The beach, The boating doc where you'd always find my dad and brother crabbing (poor crabs). It's pretty simple, but for some reason, to this day - is the biggest breath of FRESH AIR just to get outta town and go there. And I think, first of all; because literally- the air is considerably More fresh, crisp and natural than annnny city. And also there's not a whole lot to do, and most of it is all just getting out into the nature and enjoying it. When you live in a place when there seems to be a billion other things you can do besides relax and take a stroll on the beach, or hike in the woods- you most likely find yourself doing something else.

Then when everyone is feeling like getting out, it's time to go "into town". There are tons of little antique shops, bead stores, beautiful shops owned by the native americans and the blankets, bags, jewlery they make. There are tons of "hemp" stores and lots of "peace" parapheneila. I always bought little Worry Dolls; which are teen tiny dolls made of string that are about an inch tall, tons of candy, and beads and things to make jewlery with. And I SOO intend on doing that in 3 weeks.

I'd like to say that this place has a big part in who I am today. I hope someday- if I have kids- I will bring them back. My brother has already started that tradition. The first time he brought his son he was just about 5 months old, and now he is Three years old, so I'm soo excited to get him in the pool and on the beach and everything. Usually the cupboards are completely STOCKED with junkfood, you know 6 different inds of bulk candy from costco- ALWAYS a tub of licorice. The part I always dread is the killing of the crabs... My dad pours them into the boiling water and you can hear those poor babies scream.

Anyway.
Im excited to get back to the Northwest and relax and be with the people who make a vacation a vaction.

my super saturday.

I enjoy a good blockbuster comedy. Especially with a prescription of couch potatoe-dom from my doctor. Anyway, I've been watching movies that are on cable all day, because it's Saturday and thats what Saturday has to offer America; Raunchy movies with corny replacement curse words to cover the original four letter words. Today's lineup has been kind of painful but has satiated my 19- year- old- boy- humor, so far I've watched; Animal House, American Pie 2, American Wedding, and 40 year old Virgin. I'd definately 100% say it has just gotten worse as the day progresses.

American Wedding and 40 year Old Virgin are definately tied at the worst. American Wedding was obviously just a last chance for the cast and crew to make a buck before their careers went out the window, same people, same scenarios, same jokes and slapstick comedy. 40 year old Virgin exceedlingly objectifies women while dropping F-bomb's every other word, which happen to be muted out, so collectively 50% of the time while the movie is playing, my TV is on mute. I am usually a big Steve Carell Fan ( I mean, helllo- Horton Hears a Who, and Little Miss Sunshine!). But this movie is just like my first kiss; dumb and akward.

When Steve Carell is at some clinic, trying to put together this plastic diagram of a vagina, I was JUST about to change the channel, when SUDDENLY... I notice his thumb. Ladies and Gentlemen, who says you can't learn something new by laying around all day watching pointless movies? I am here to let you know that Steve Carell has a gimp thumb. Yes, one of his thumbs is smashed and flat and his fingernail is long, square, and greyish brown.

I'm not opposed to the smashed thumb, at all, I think it's pretty cool. It's just like when I was watching Friends and found out Chandler literally has a reverse middle finger; instead of being longer than all of his fingers it's increasingly shorter. We all know that Jim Carrey's tooth in Dumb and Dumber is his actual tooth, he just normally wears a cap over it. Can you not be given comedic credit unles you've got a secret hidden defect? If so, I'm in!!

Brynn's 'Mono'-logues

oh how I take advantage of my puns.
mono-logue

mono-gram
mono-cular
mono-gany
mono y mono ?

you know what? without thinking about this pun-roll that i am on, earlier I had a chuckle- if you will- with myself putting together a 'mono' chromatic outfit. You, see I am secretly obsessed with American Apparel's color "athletic grey". For years and years I was always in search for the perfect grey T- shirt, and a couple years ago discovered it at, yes you guessed it, American Apparel. So while sifting through my laundry today, I sectioned off a whole outfit in athleteic grey. I laughed to myself about how someday I need to wear it all at once...Maybe on a jog, maybe a stroll on my new-to-me roller skates, It would be a silent tell-all about how and where Brynn Jones prespires. 'Cause we all know how the color grey is like that friend who can't keep a secret "Hey Everyone-- Look She's Sweating!!!!", as opposed to a good navy blue, maybe black, or better yet a printed Tee- the more stealth friend you know will keep your secrets under wraps.

I am honestly a bit humiliated to look back at what I have written in emails, blogs, whatever these past few days, because not much of it makes sense, or is more relative to a 3rd graders book report. But At least I'm trying to keep my brain working- I've got a month to do so.

If anyone else has been underpriveledged enough to be accompanied by this illness; may I ask you if you often felt like you could possibly be mildly on drugs? Everything is soo foggy, Im so slow talking to other people and at a loss for words. I'm shakey, stumblining, and drummmroolllllll... have cotton mouth.

I paint quite the beautiful portrait of myself don't I?

I've always said I'm obsessed with my ailments. Not in a self absorbed way in which I always want to just talk about me me me (Lets face it though, Im home alone for a week and talking through cyberspace - TO A BLOG). I just become obsessive- I want to know every symptom cause and effect. I want to know the average recovery rate, I want to know the quickest recovery rate- and I want to beat it

* I SAID OOH GIRL SHOCK ME LIKE AN ELECTRIC EEL* (sorry had to sing along real quick since I can't in real life, MGMT was AMAZING at Coachella)

Speaking of coachella, I haven't talked about it much. For those of you who don't know what coachella is, it' could be compared to a modern day woodstock, Just a giant Binge of great musicians performing everywhere in Indio, California, which is very close to Palm Springs, otherwise known as the desert.

Not knowing the whole time I was sick, I now look back and see why I wasn't 100% Dancing Brynn mode. But when MGMT came out I was Allll Over the place singing every word, jumping up - down - all round, my hair all over the place; my face, the dude next to me's face, the dude next to him's face ( lets be honest, my hair is 25 inches long). My shoes slipped off about 37 times, but I still made like Michael Jordan and Jumped as high as I could..... Then definately had to go sit down in the shade and re-hydrate.

Its an amazing event. Especially if you go back to a nice air conditioned Hotel Room. Which, we didn't. We camped. Next years decision has already been made. Hotel it is.

This is getting boring, both for me, and for you. I'm not writing out of inspiration- just out of pure boredom, which is boring all of us to death.

RIP.