Just Your Average Day in the Braithwaite

I was sitting in the English building the other day having a conversation with my best friend about the fact that I had completely forgotten to eat the day before. I’m kind of a loud talker, so it wasn't too much of a surprise that the Chair of the English Department (whose office door is literally always open) overheard this conversation. He stood up and walked out of his office.

“Did you say you didn't eat anything yesterday?” he asked my seated friend and I, an imperial figure at six-feet something.

I sheepishly responded, “Well, I ate a McDonald’s chicken sandwich in the morning, but I spent the rest of the day working on my essay, so I didn't remember to eat.”  

He looked only slightly appeased.
“Well, are you at least getting seven hours of sleep a night?” he asked.

I filled with pride, like a five-year-old who gets a gold star, when I was able to say yes to this question.

He looked down past his square framed glasses. “I’m not saying this as a professor, I’m saying this as a father, you really should be eating at least three times a day—healthy foods—and sleeping at least seven hours a night.”

He then went on to lecture me for a minute about keeping myself healthy.

When he finished the lecture he went back into his office—back to his over-flowing workload.

Now I don’t know about you, but I love knowing that I go to a school where a very busy man—the Chair of the English Department who has more on his plate than a glutton at Thanksgiving—takes the time to actually show his students that he cares about them as individuals. He’s like a living Dumbledore, only he doesn't have the long white beard and half-moon glasses (his are square rimmed). 

My Knight in Shining Armor

I almost hesitate to post this poem for various reasons, I don't know that it's finished yet, but that's because a poem is a living breathing thing, not ever "finished", I'm also terrified that it will be stolen, so please don't plagiarize my hard work.


That being said I really put a lot into this poem. I had been toying with the concept of it for a few years before it actually found its way onto a piece of paper. But when it finally came together, I was so happy. I've had a few friends read it and they didn't get it, which kind of bummed me out, but most everyone else has understood what's going on. I hope you will too:

Knight in Shining Armor

There’s a knight in shining armor

That I dream of every night

He saves me from the dragon

When I’m sad he holds me tight

He tells me I’m a princess

And if I listen to his words

I will stand out far apart

From the masses and the herds

I know that this my Knight is real

I feel it in my heart

He doesn’t ride a great white horse

That’s what sets him apart

He walks with humble garment

When the armor disappears

I see his face and marvel

And I tremble as he nears

I realized that my dragon

Was the awful beast of sin

And my Lord and my redeemer

My knight to take me in

I know I am a princess

I am a daughter of The King

With a perfect older brother

To that knowledge I will cling

I’ll listen to my brother

Who’s wise, and kind and just

And he’ll help me fight my dragon

As fight, I know, I must


Well, I hope you liked it. I promise to post an update on my real life along with a snippit of my new fiction project when I have the time. Good night (or good morning at this point) and I love you!


~PenningJade

A Painting Without Color

This poem was written for an assignment in my lit and culture class. We were told to answer a few questions. We had spent the semester talking about cultures both within and outside of the United States. This poem was my reaction to the whole semester, and specifically the questions I was asked. I hope you enjoy!

A Painting Without Color

 Me make a change?

no.

I’m just a white woman.

Nobody respects me.

I’m a majority.

And people are acting like that’s a bad thing.

I feel like people see the majority as a negative place to come from.

like chicken breast, or bleached flour.

We’re too common.

Too standard

and through our commonality

we lose our original richness.

All the Navajo women with their scholarships

and their rich-colored skin.

The Asian girls with their beautiful brown eyes

and their rich hair.

I am colorless

I am blond hair

I am blue eyes.

I cannot make a change

because  I do not stand out.

Am average in height

average in weight

I am nothing special.

I am in the majority.

I was raised in suburbia.

white Neighbors,

white house,

white car,

white dog

white fence,

and in the winter:

a white yard.

Mom and Dad had the American Dream

I feel the world wants to make me extinct.

I feel like they think the majority needs to die

and make room for the minorities.

My dad is an artist.

I have always thought color was fascinating.

My solution to world peace is a painting

Everyone needs to look at my painting

and see that if it were all one color

all one people,

it would not be beautiful

but with each part,

each race

each religion

each orientation

Each part of this whole that we call a world

that is what makes it beautiful.

White is fine,

but to me it seems like such a blank canvas.


Thanks!
-PenningJade

A Response to another man's Blog:

I read an interesting article on another man's blog the other day. It was interesting to see. I just wanted to write out my response here. What I believe, so that I will not leave you in any doubt as to how I feel:

I believe in Love. Not romantic, love, but pure love. Like, charity, the pure love of Christ. I believe in loving the person, even if I hate their actions. I believe that every person on Earth is a child of God, and has the same rights to be here as I do. I believe that they have the same rights to make right and wrong choices as I do, and to discover for themselves through prayer, and action what those choices are. I believe that I can and will be happier if I look to God to help me make those decisions. I believe that life is easier if I don't sweat the small things, and I am happier if I don't take myself so seriously. I believe in eating meat, but I also believe that if someone wants to choose not to eat meat then they should still be loved.

One of the blessings of living in this land of the free is that I am free to believe what I believe, and you are free to believe what you believe. I make choices for me. I don't let other people take that agency away from me, but I give it freely to God. Because it is all that I can give to Him.

I know that God loves his children. He gives us challenges to help us grow, and he won't give us any that we can't handle. We may not be able to handle many of our challenges on our own, but with His help, we can.

I believe in the Atonement through Jesus Christ. I believe that He suffered so that I may be made pure again. I believe I would be a fool to ignore this sacrifice. I have much room for improvement, but I believe that through true and complete repentance I may progress towards perfection.

I believe in modern day revelation. Earlier today I had the chance to listen to the prophet of our day speak. He spoke about Christmas, and holding Christ at the center of our celebrations. I believe he is an inspired man, and that he receives revelations from God to help us, today, in our time.

I believe that his predecessors are all true prophets too. I believe that Joseph Smith truly did see God and His Son, Jesus Christ in that sacred grove of trees, and that the Book of Mormon is a true, and inspired text.

I believe that if I make good choices, and submit to my Father in Heaven's will for me I will be happier than I would be if I tried to force my own will in the way of His.

Finally, I just want to reiterate that I believe in love. I am not perfect (and though I believe this principle with all my heart, I am still working on executing it as expertly as my Savior did), but I believe in love. I believe that God loves me, and that He loves every person I come into contact with. If He loves them, then that must mean that it is okay for me to love them too. If He loves them, then I need to love them too. So as we reach the end of the year, I make a resolution to love better. I resolve to judge less, and to give of myself more freely to others. It doesn't matter what a person is, or does, they are still a child of God, and I resolve to love them as such.

With hopes for success in my new resolution,

PenningJade

My Own version of "Winter Wonderland"

I wrote this when I was in a sour mood. I hope it makes you laugh a little. ;)

You're saying words, but I'm not listening in the lane, snow is glistening,

You're quite a sight, you fill me with fright, Walking in a Winter Wonderland

Gone away is my true love, here to stay is this new 'love'

You're singing love songs, I think it’s so wrong Walking in a Winter Wonderland

In the meadow we can build a snowman, and pretend that he is Bishop Grimm, he'll say 'are you married?' I'll say 'No man! I’d have to be a fool to marry him'

Later on, I'll perspire, as you dream by the fire, 'cause I'm sore afraid of the friends that you've made, Walking in a Winter Wonderland.

In the meadow we can build another snowman, and dress him up like he's a circus clown. To myself I’ll think that: 'you should know man, this blind date really went and let me down,'

When it snows, ain't it thrilling? Though this tale's rather chilling, time to get away, 'it's been a long day...' walking in a WINTER...WONDERLAND!

A Poem about Gravy

I wrote this poem when I was playing with memories, It's about a time when I was 4, and I spilled the gravy boat all over myself... thus began my habit of burning myself. A habit has not yet retreated...

Enjoy

Spilled the Gravy

Birthdays always were the best

Mommy would make a feast

of mashed potatoes

and roast beef

I was always most excited for the gravy

hot and heavy

thick as chocolate syrup

and the grassy sassy asparagus covered in Velveeta and pepper.

This year Mommy sets the gravy boat before me

This year I want to pour my own gravy

This year I spill the scalding gravy down my lap during the prayer

I scream and Angel says “Amen”

Mommy and Grandma rush me to the kitchen sink

to cool the burns

I cry over spilled gravy.

Tell me what you think in a comment! Thanks!

-PenningJade

Not A Love Poem

I Found this old poem that I wanted to share with you all. I wrote it in High school, but I still consider it some of my favorite work. It's very... well... ME. Enjoy!

Seventeen

I look in his eyes like a winter sky
Entwining make my tongue feel shy
To speak the words that linger there
That burst to fly through open air
So they may reach his wholesome ears
And bring him several joyous tears
The words I long to say are true
I long to tell him ‘I love you’

But I’m too young to know this thing
About which all the singers sing
And painters paint it on the page
Actors portray it on the stage
Writers write it in their words
musicians play it to be heard


But since I’m always called too young

it eats me like a song un-sung
and burns me like book on fire
and fades like art dropped in the mire
the notes go flat to be un-played
all acts go mute and won’t be said

I’m very much too young to know
what happens when you leave the show
Then walk the street his hand in yours
I’m just too small and immature
I’m not yet meant to understand
the thing my friends say is so grand
the beauty of this new feeling
can one man be so appealing?

is it something that I have felt?

Will it cause all my pain to melt?

I ponder at these small questions
Always open for suggestions
But since it’s good to have a guess
Mine is definitively yes
I think love is a thing I feel
I sure believe, it must be real
I think that it will heal my sorrow
From days that didn’t want tomorrow

And one man sure can be that great
He’ll give my heart a faster rate
make my head do some swift spinning
that’s just love’s heat-filled beginning
next my heart rate will pitter down
my face will change out of its frown
and all my woes from days gone bye
will quickly from my memory fly
and I’ll be hooked like trout at sea
“the only one for me” he’ll be.
Though I don’t want to hurt my life
I’m much too young to be a wife
But still I think I’d like to try
to own that sparkle in his eye
be a bride in a lovely gown
turn two worlds their upsides-down
and cut a cake with three pink layers
then dance along with music players
to have a husband all to me
With more-than-lifetime guarantee
I’d like to be a pretty bride
To see my father burst with pride
And mother weeping in her joy
That ‘Crystal’s finally found her boy
The man she couldn’t live without
Who’s shown her what this life’s about’
When mother’s cried out all her tears
She’ll reminisce ‘bout bye-gone years
She’ll give advice that I might take
About which kinds of foods to make
the groceries that I need to buy
To make a roast that isn’t dry
And bake him cookies from a dough
A recipe that I don’t know
she’ll tell me how to keep him fed
then comes the part that I most dread
the part that I don’t understand
the topic that I’ve always banned
the thing that makes a maiden blush
so on this page I will not touch
the subject that she’ll cover next
is exactly what you expect

but as I’ve said I am too young
and this cute tale that I have strung
is not a story that I’ve seen

'cause baby, I'm just seventeen!