Hero

WHY MY BROTHER IS A HERO

A COMMENTARY ON THE AWESOMENESS OF MY BRIBRI BABYCAKES

           

            Spiderman got bit by a spider. It made him real sick. You got real sick, too. But spiderman got real cool powers after he finished being sick. Spiderman gave hope to a lot of people, just like you. Everyone thinks you’re awesome (I know I always tell you this anyways) and everyone loves you. We all want you to get better so you can do cool stuff. (maybe once you’re healed you can climb walls or something, that’d be cool.)

      
 You’re super cool like General Grievous from Star Wars. General Grievous also had a weak heart, but he was still awesome. (except he was bad. Don’t be bad.) General Grievous was a fighter, just like you. He never gave up, he just kept on fighting. That’s what I want you to do, just like you already are. Never ever give up!           

 Darth Vader is famous for having breathing troubles. You’ve got asthma. Darth Vader never let that stop him from being the galaxy’s coolest villain ever. The force is strong in you, my boy. Do or do not, there is no try. You must get better. The Galaxy needs you.

           





 Cyborg is part human, part robot. You’ve got a bunch of screws and stuff in your knee. That’s pretty cool. You’ve got so much hardware in ya, you’re like a walking home depot. But that’s pretty cool, you’ve got some pretty cool battle scars to show for it. Cyborg uses his powers for good, and doesn’t complain about his robo-parts, just like you don’t. you’ve got that crazy knee, but it doesn’t bother you. It just makes you cooler.

            Last but not least, Iron Man. Iron Man gets all the ladies (just like you!) AND he had to get a new heart (again, just like you!) Iron Man protects himself with his awesome suit, kind of like how you protect yourself with the armor of God. The difference between you and Iron Man, though, is that Iron Man is arrogant and selfish, but you’re the sweetest and most selfless person on the planet. You are so sweet and loving, even when you’re going through rough times, you still manage a smile, you still crack jokes, you still care about other people. And that’s why you’re better than Iron Man.

           


         Brian, you’re better than all those superheroes combined. You are so brave and courageous, you just keep on truckin’ through all of this without complaining. I am so proud of you, you have no idea. I always call you the baby, but you’re more of a man than anyone I know. You’re the kindest, sweetest, bravest, most courageous guy out there, and I’m proud of you for not losing hope through all of this. I know it’s scary sometimes, but please always know that God is there for you, to comfort you and support you. Stay strong and remember what Jesus went through on the cross for you; He died and suffered for YOU, my dear. He knows everything you’re going through, He’s always in control. Don’t lose sight of that. I love you so so very much, please always know it. I will ALWAYS be there for you, no matter what! You’re my beloved bribri babycakes, and you always will be. But you’re also my hero, and I want you to know that, too. You inspire me to be strong, even when it’s scary. I will always love you to the moon and back! You’re my precious angel from Heaven.

Love Always,

            ~your sidekick, Kristin

SPRING BREAK 2012!!!!!!!!!!1!11!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1111!!!!!!!

Spring Break. Those two monosyllabic words inspire visions of crazy teens being reckless, living life to the fullest, getting drunk, playing beach volleyball in skimpy clothes, wildly dancing at raves or bonfires. Well, my spring break was pretty whack this year, if i do say so myself.

"PARTY AT MY PLACE!!!1!!1!111!" -parents were out of town. best friend and boyfriend were also out of town. Spent half the week at my house with just my bro.

"OH DUDE I GOT SO DRUNK!!1!1!!!!11!!!!" -had a glass of moscato. it was sub-par, at best.

"OH MAN I TOOK SO MANY DRUGS!!!!!1!!1!!!1!!1111!" -i took 4 advil one day cuz i had a killer headache.

"PARTY AT THE BEACH!!!!!!1111!!!!!!!!" -i actually did go to the beach. i fell asleep on the sand and forgot to tell my bro to wear sunscreen, so he got a killer burn on his legs.

"DANCE PARTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!1!1!!!!!!" -listened to the Beatles and sort of danced around. sort of.

"DUDE THAT WAS SO SICKK!!!1!1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" -brian got pneumonia. he also got sick and i ended up cleaning vomit off the bathroom floor.

"I TOTALLY HOOKED UP WITH THAT ONE GUY!!!!!1!!!!!!!!!11!!!" -a hobo came to my door and asked me to give him cash or a check. I had neither so i turned him away.

"PARTY AT THE HOTEL!!!!!!!!!!!11!!!!!!!!!!1!" -spent saturday of spring break in ER with bro and family due to pneumonia.

"BREAK ALL THE RULES!!!!!!!!!!1!!!1!" -brian and i stayed up until 4am watching "scary" movies one night.

"DUDE I CAN'T EVEN REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT!!!!!!!!!1!!!!!!" -i literally forgot because i did nothing worth remembering.

"REMEMBER WHEN THAT ONE GUY GOT SO JACKED UP?!11?/!1/???" -my dad and i were cutting down a tree in the backyard and he fell out of the tree and hurt his back.

"DUDE THINGS GOT OUT OF CONTROL!!1!!!" -the dog got out one time. it took me like, ten minutes to get him back.

"I TOTALLY DIDN'T DO ANY WORK OVER THE BREAK, MAN!!!!!!!!1!!!1!!!!" -it's true, neither did i.

my spring break wasn't super epic or crazy. but it was still pretty great (aside from brian getting pneumonia, of course) and i had a lot of opportunities to just get away and meditate for a while. it was nice and peaceful, for the most part, and Good Friday and Easter were great as always.

Teacher's Pet

We've all known them. We've all hated on them.

Teacher's pets.

Those sniveling kids that have all the answers, know all the random facts, have the teacher's address memorized. (hopefully not...) Those kids that just THRIVE off the attention and approval of the teacher.

I'm not one of those kids. Never have been, never will be. I'll do my best in class, but I don't really care what the professor thinks of me as a human being, one way or the other. I typically sit towards the back and keep to myself, seldom answering questions, never asking them, and just trying to mind my own business.

For some reason, some teachers choose me. I'm not sure why, maybe they see some hidden potential in me, maybe they see me as a younger version of themselves, heck, maybe they do it just because they know I hate the attention. But sometimes, inadvertently, I am the teacher's pet.

This is the case for my Monday night class this semester.
Before I had any real contact with her, she would stare into my eyes during lecture. Not just a casual glance sort of look, I mean really looking into and searching the depths of my soul sort of a look. She reminds me a bit of myself if ever I get older like her. Brown hair, grey eyes, sort of quirky and quiet, quietly analyzing type of a person. Things escalated on the level of teacher's pet when she finally spoke to me directly outside of class. It all started back a few weeks, when I wore a Totoro shirt to class. The prof gently grabbed my arm, stared at my shirt for a second or so, and asked me "You like Totoro?" Completely shocked that she would even have half an idea what or who Totoro even was, I managed a "yes... You know it?" to which she launched off into a long story about her ex husband, and how he had worked for an animation company, and how they had both loved and adored everything Miyazaki has ever done. Even more shocked, I then told her about my recent experience of seeing some Miyazaki movies on the big-screen, to which she expressed both approval and jealousy. I politely invited her to the final showing of "Castle in the Sky" that would be showing at the end of the month and took my seat.
Ever since then, she's asked me my opinions during class, always compliments me on my work, writes really nice things on my papers, etc. She still smiles at me and looks into my soul while teaching, too.

Well, tonight, things got real out of hand. At the beginning of class, she came up to me and asked if I was alright. Apparently i looked kind of... rough around the edges or something. I told her I hadn't gotten much sleep over the weekend, hadn't been feeling well so i hadn't eaten in a long time, etc. She expressed her sympathy, then began class. In class, she assigned us an exercise to write a poem. Most of my classmates were terrified and complaining at the prospect of having to write a poem. Obviously, as you may have figured out by now, I don't really mind writing all that much. So i set about writing a short poem. I finished far before the rest of the class. The prof was going around, silently reading everyone's poems... She read mine, and gave me high praises on it. I thanked her quietly, getting kind of red in the face for the recognition. Meanwhile, a few of the girls across from me were talking about their poems and how clever they were, etc. They were very pleased with themselves, to say the least. Well, the prof went over there and read over their poems, too. Just gave them a simple "very nice" without really meaning it. Well, horror of horrors, we finish the activity and she utters the most terrifying of phrases... "Who would like to read their poem to the class?" Silence. Not even the oh-so-confident teacher's pet wannabes volunteered. Then, the teacher said something even scarier than she had said before. "Well, I really loved Kristin's poem. It was one of, if not, my favorites that i read. It really speaks to me. Kristin, will you please read your poem to the class?" Everyone turned and stared at me... Hesitantly, I said I would. I read the poem to the class, feeling my face become redder and redder. I finished the poem, and the professor stood up and applauded me. The class hesitantly followed. I could feel the hatred of those girls burning through their eyes... Without even trying, I had become both the teacher's pet AND made enemies of half of my classmates. I sunk down into my chair and tried to appear uninterested in both the accolades of my professor and the hateful whispers and glares from my classmates.

Time went on, my cheeks faded back to a normal color again, i tried to forget about the poetry incident. At 8:45pm, the prof made an announcement. "It has come to my attention that some of you have been working very hard on your annotated bibliographies, and a few of you are outright exhausted. So I'm letting you all leave an hour early tonight." As she said all this, she was looking at me the entire time. Again i felt my malnourished, zombie-state face reddening. The class looked around, mildly confused but ecstatic at the prospect of leaving early.  We all turned in our poems that we had written, and left. I thanked my professor for letting us out early, and she smiled and said "you go get some rest now. Take care!" and i went on my way.

I never asked for this. I never tried for it. But it's happening. And if we can get out of class early because of it, I think I can manage, and hopefully my classmates won't judge so harshly. :)

Identity Crisis

     I was raised irish.
For the first 14 or so years of my life, I assumed I was Irish. I always knew I was adopted, but it never occurred to me that I would be of a different ethnic background than my family. Mom's dad was from Ireland, so her family is very very Irish-ly oriented. St. Patrick's day is second in glory only to Christmas and Easter for us Mulligan-Thompsons. When I was young, I was an Irish dancer (I know, laugh it up haha). I always just figured I was Irish, and I was darn proud of it.

Until one fateful trip to the post-office.

I was about 13-14 years old at that time. I was in the car with my dad; we were going to the post-office. I remember telling him how much I loved being Irish. Then, for reasons unbeknownst to me, even to this day, he told me "but you're not Irish."

Not Irish? What? Of course I was Irish... Everything about me was Irish. There was no other culture (except possibly the French) that I loved more than Irish. Not Irish? This man I called father must have been delusional.

I asked him "what do you mean I'm not Irish?" and he told me "You're French. And Portuguese."

What.

The emotions that ensued from that were of utmost dismay and disappointment, but also of joy. (I was French! a dream come true.) But not Irish? I said to him "No part of me is irish?" and he said "No, you're French-Portuguese. Didn't you already know this?"

Obviously not, judging by the tears streaming down my cheeks at that point. Up until then, I felt like everything I was, everything I did, was a lie; a fake. All those years I had been a dancer I should have been taking French lessons? I should have been taking ceramics instead of traveling to competitions?

My world had been shaken. It took a long time to get over the shock of it all. I didn't want to be stupid Portuguese! I wanted to be Irish! I was mad and confused. I didn't always love being Portuguese. In the beginning, I hated it.

Obviously, as the title of this blog would imply, I now thoroughly embrace being Portuguese (and French), but I realized that I'm still Irish. Even more than being legally Irish, being raised in the Irish culture does something to you. I'm proud to have been raised in that culture, I'm proud that my family is Irish, and mostly I'm proud of my grandfather, who immigrated to America from Ireland in his twenties.

Sadly, I lost my grandfather in 1995, when I was just 5 years old. I really wish he was still here so he could tell us the stories of the old country. I wish he had been there to see me dance. I wish he could see me and my brother grow up. I often spend time at the cemetery, at the grave site. I try to keep the weeds off it, sometimes on special days i bring flowers. I didn't know him too well, but I love hearing the stories of him from my family.

I'll always be Irish in my heart, and I'm thankful for all aspects of my heritage.

May you have warm words on a cold evening,
a full moon on a dark night,
and the road downhill all the way to your door.

:)

Activity Report

12:13pm : woke up. proceeded to message Dixie on IM for a while before getting out of bed and actually going to physically talk to her.

1:00pm : drove to school to get friend to drive to Sylmar. While waiting for said friend, sat alone on a bench. Russian girl sat in an awkward proximity to me on said bench, and proceeded to make a call. Overhear Russian girl making appointments, think nothing of it. Russian girl starts talking about rates, alcohol/drug use, and other unsavory things. Conclude that Russian girl is prostitute. Continue waiting for friend, Russian girl continues talking on phone about disgusting and unmentionable things.

1:15pm: girl walks past me, staring at me coldly. I smile at girl, girl disregards gesture of friendliness and scowls harder. Girl runs into hedge. I laugh in amusement and ask if she is alright. She says nothing, scowls, and walks away.

1:30pm: russian girl is off the phone now, sitting awkwardly next to me. Friend arrives. walk to friend's car with friend and drive to Sylmar.

2:10pm : arrive at Sylmar. go into classroom and set up. welcome parents/children with a smile but receive no response (as per usual). Hand out juice and sandwiches.

2:30pm: play Loteria game with families. I win. the prize was a glass piggy bank. having no need for this, i give it to small child in closest proximity to me.

2:40pm: read children's book out loud. accidentally read spanish word in english accent. children all laugh at me. some parents scold their children for it. I apologize and explain that my spanish is not too good.

3:30pm: class over. children/parents leave. small girl runs up and randomly hugs me for a while. sign the log, and proceed to leave with friend.

4:00pm: arrive at CSUN again. get in my car and drive to Chili's to meet other friend.

4:10pm: arrive at chili's, have awkward confrontation with waitress, requesting to just wait for my friend. Waitress demands i go sit at table. I sit at table, somewhat bewildered.

4:15: friend arrives. Randomly, 2 other friends arrive as well. We hug each other, and proceed to sit at our own tables. Coincidences are strange. I tell my friend that Life has not met its quota for giving me weird situations today. Friend laughs and agrees. Proceed to tell friend about events beginning at 12:13pm through 4:10pm. Waitress arrives and takes our order.

4:30pm: food arrives. amusingly, my friend is served a bowl of cheese. We eat our food and talk about boys and school and jabba the hutt professors.

5:00pm : finish eating. wait around forever until waitress brings check+refills. continue joking around about random things.

5:30pm: waitress at last brings check. takes a long time to process our money.

5:45pm: we leave restaurant. bad things happen, so we decide to get ice cream. We decide to meet at northridge mall. get in separate cars and go to mall.

6:00pm: arrive at northridge mall. text friend to see where she is. sit on bench waiting for reply. Group of boys approaches me. One comes up to me, asks if i have money for the bus fare. I reply with "i have no money, not even coins to give you... i'm sorry." guy then tells me that his friend thinks i'm hot and wants to buy me something nice. I look at boy and say no thanks, that's okey. Boy then asks how old i am. I ask "why do you want to know that?" boy asks again, "well, just how old are you? over 18?" I reply with "i'm 21. why?" Boy asks "can you go into that store and buy a pack of smokes for my friend over there?" i say "for your friend? he's underage? nah, dude, i don't do stuff like that... it's illegal..." boy says "aww c'mon... i thought you were cooler than that." i say "nah, man... i don't do stuff like that. you kids shouldn't be smoking, anyways. you'll regret it later on in life." receive text. friend is on other side of mall.  boy says "aww, okey. well, thanks for your time, have a good night!" and i say "ya, have a good night. be good and stay out of trouble! you're too young for cigarettes." he laughs and I get up and go find my friend.

6:10pm: find friend. tell her about events that transpired at 6:00pm. friend is shocked that i could get into so much trouble in just the few minutes she left me alone. many laughs are had.

6:15pm: buy friend gelato. life gets a little bit better. we proceed to walk through mall, making fun of fashions incorporating floral "homeschool/granma" prints while being cut in a slutty manner. I make comment "oh yes, because that's what a guy wants to be thinking about when he sees a hot girl. his grandmother or a socially inept homeschooled kid." friend proceeds to lapse into asthmatic fit of laughter. I begin to become concerned for the well-being of my friend. Friend begins breathing again, still laughing quite hard. we proceed to walk through mall.

6:30pm: we go into vitamin store. girl working there asks us why we're in there. friend buys vitamins. girl working is confused, but rings up my friend for the purchase. says something about rewards club. we ignore her. we leave vitamin world.
6:35pm: wander around mall aimlessly making fun of fashions in forever 21, sidecca, hot topic, those expensive stores that no one can afford, etc. friend goes to bathroom. points out weird stall with two toilets in it. friend takes picture. we laugh heartily over it.

7:00pm go to asian store. muse over all of the awesome things including a pikachu suit. We go up the escalator, planning how to get guys. we decided that the best way to get a guy's number is to crash your car into the guy (in or out of his car) and get his insurance and phone number written down. a great way to meet people.

7:30pm: we get in our cars and leave.

10:45pm: finish writing this blog 

Forgotten Camping Trip

This is a somewhat fictitious account of a camping trip I had a long while back with a dear friend of mine. Some of the things may or may not be entirely or not at all true or false all or none of the time.

    There I sat. Or lay, rather. Couldn't much sit up very well, having to sleep on a shelf. I lay there, planning my escape. Pinned up 5 inches above my nose were the blueprints i had drawn up, amongst other calculations. Blueprints on how to tunnel out of the current bug-infested predicament, and I do mean that literally. Holed up in a trailer, filled with mosquitoes and moths, watching a movie about a boy who thought he was from mars (and fallaciously claimed to taste colours) with my friend and her family. It was frighteningly hot during that time of year. But it wasn't so much the heat as it was the bugs. And the food. All of the food was pork. Sausages, bacon, ham sandwiches, all pork. Heat, bugs, pork; I was melting, being eaten alive, and starved, simultaneously. A torturous occasion, on all accounts, to be certain. We had dined previously in the day at an Italian restaurant. Italian food is akin to pork for my taste; practically intolerable. I managed to smuggle back 3 prawns, which i carefully cut up and rationed out over the next few days. I kept it in the corner of my shelf-bed, hoping no one would notice and deprive me of my food source from the sea. There I lay, smacking at the mosquitoes, in a feeble attempt to stay unscathed by there ever-probing stings and bites. I had planned an escape route, and calculated the time it would take me to either walk home or hitch-hike, if at all possible. I had enough rations for about 9 days, if i allotted one small piece of shrimp for each day of the return journey. I would also try and procure some sort of balm for the bites, as it was almost certain that i would contract malaria or gangrene. Another all too real possibility was the contraction of scurvy, seeing as how i didn't have any good source of vitamin C at the time. At this point, I decided to create my last will and testament. With trembling hand, I bequeathed all of my earthly possessions to my brother, and wrote fondest regards to my mum and dad. I would put into action my plan the next day.

I never got the chance, we ended up at some kind of water park in a current-driven river sort of attraction. We wore ridiculous hats, and I was much ashamed of my existence at that point in time. At least it was a chance to escape from those infernal insects. We returned from this venture, somehow sunburnt despite the large-brimmed hats we adorned out sweaty heads with. Another night spent on the shelf.

I was jolted from sleep in the middle of the night. I couldn't remember where i was. As i sat up rather abruptly, i hit my head quite hard (and rather loudly, i'm afraid) on the ceiling above the shelf. This only added to the disorientation and terror. Not to mention it elicited a concerned question from someone that had been roused from sleep due to the sound produced from my skull smashing against the ceiling. I rubbed my head in confusion, then remembered where I was. An insect infested inferno. 

I never did manage to escape. Instead, we all drove home the very next day. I returned home, only my epidermis and pride ridden with wounds and disease.


~end

this was inspired by a discussion had today with my friend from the story, recounting this camping trip in both amusement and something akin to flashbacks to the horrors of war. :P much love to my friend and her delightful family! it wasn't really all that bad of a time.

Social Experiment

My last post was about my ideas regarding make-up and normal fashion and whatnot. I got to thinking, "what would life be like if I DID dress like a 'normal' person and wear make up and everything?" so i decided to conduct a series of experiments, the first of which i carried out today.
     Tonight, I had class from 4-7. So I had plenty of time to "get ready" (i'm actually not sure what the current terminology for this is...) So i put on a simple black dress, black flats (didn't want to bother with heels; i'm not that dedicated.) put on eyeliner, and, ::shudders:: lipstick. I did nothing different with my hair, as usual, like i said, not that dedicated. I wanted to know if I would receive the same amount of attention, or more, or less, if i dressed like most normal girl university students. Usually, I wear simple clothes, i.e. power rangers t-shirts, pullover hoodies, mexican ponchos, sweater boots, and other apparently socially odd things. Not to mention i usually have large headphones on, which is also apparently odd for a 5'2 white girl to wear.
Now i actually get a fair amount of attention dressed like i normally am (albeit unwanted attention); people talk to me (albeit weird people, usually) and occasionally i get hit on (albeit awkwardly). So people aren't deterred by my deviation from current fashion trends and make up wearing. Some people even seem more drawn to me because I'm "different".
     So the main idea of this experiment was to gauge how people would react to a "normalized" Kris Thompson. So i put on normal clothes, and normal make-up, and went to class.
     Most people were actually friendlier, in general, smiling at me, saying "hello", and the like. Mind you, RANDOM people, not people i know. Not even people in my class. People held doors open for me, and actually let me onto the elevator (which was nice, because that elevator takes a long time to get anywhere, and if you have to wait for the next one to arrive, it takes a while.) Usually people just sort of let doors close on my face, and make me wait for the next lift. Apparently, if you look normal, you have better luck getting places at a normal pace. And you also won't get slammed in the face by a closing door if you don't happen to be paying good attention. Finally arrived to class (a bit of a trek, parking at school's a monstrosity) and walked through the door. Suddenly, the room seemed to snap to attention and looked at me like i had just been beamed down from Mars. I got over the shock of being noticed and took my seat. There's a guy in my class (well, there are several, which is not the normal for my line of study) and apparently he's considered to be "the hottest guy in class" by all the girls (and a few guys). All the girls practically throw themselves at him, almost fighting to sit next to him. I don't see the big deal over him, he's nothing special by my standards; i sit on the opposite side of the room with the other more apathetic students. The popular guy has never before spoken to me (a fact with which i'm more than okay), but he stares at me the entire time throughout class (a fact which i less than appreciate.) Ever since first day of class, he sits sideways and stares at me the whole time for the duration of the class and 15minute break. Mind you, this is what happens when I'm dressed as my regular self. Today, dressed as a normal person, he approached me during break. Now, this is what i was wondering about. WOULD PEOPLE IN CLASS VIEW ME DIFFERENTLY (metaphorically, obviously) AND THEN ACT ON THAT? the answer was undeniably YES. He came up to me, and said "Wow! are you going somewhere?" (presumably thinking i was dressed differently because I was going to an event) to which I replied "no". He then said, and I kid you not, "Well, would you LIKE to be going somewhere?" with his popular-guy cocky-grin. I replied "No thanks, I'm cool." Apparently that's a socially unacceptable response to that question, because the look of disbelief on his face was almost comical. After he recovered from this apparently stunning response, he regained composure and said "Oh, okay. Maybe next time. Well, you look really nice." and smiled again and returned to his chair. The girl next to me also seemed to think it was a socially unacceptable response, and gave me a look of disapproval, as if my turning him down was an act akin to Judas's betrayal of Jesus. I simply smiled at her and returned to reading whatever i was reading at the time. As if that incident weren't enough proof that things really ARE different when you dress like a normal person, the professor actually took notice of me (a terrifying thing, really, as this professor is prone to cussing out students). He looked me over and proceeded to pay me the most epic compliment I have ever received: "You look like a badass Audrey Hepburn." I simply said "thank you..." and tried to smile (i was scared out of my wits at his acknowledgement of my existence). He then returned to texting, and I did the same.
     Don't get me wrong, I'm no narcissist (if you know me in real life you probably already know that.) I'm perfectly happy to just go through life (and especially school) completely unnoticed. And I'm definitely no fan of vanity or conceit. I conducted this experiment of sorts out of pure curiosity, to see if people really do treat better-dressed people with more respect and kindness. The results of this experiment? I get attentions either way, it's just sort of a different kind. When I'm dressed like my regular self, people talk to me and notice my personality, and genuinely seem to want to get to know me. Also when I'm dressed like my regular self, i end up waiting for a lot of elevators (people are jerks) and getting doors slammed in my face. When I dressed "up to par" with the norms of what girls my age wear, I got more respect, but also ended up encountering people that were only interested in my appearance. So, in conclusion, I'd much prefer to wear headphones and a power ranger shirt and get the door slammed in my face than a dress and makeup and get hit on by shallow people that think the world is owed to them on a silver platter.