My Lifesaver

So last…week, month, whatever, I wrote about one of my brothers. I have 3 of them and 2 sisters and, having a good relationship with all of them, I decided to dedicate a post to each one of them. My next subject: Michael.

When I was 10, Michael (the youngest) came into our lives. Poor kid was accident prone right off the bat. His femur bone was broken when he was about 6 months old or so, and he was put into a body cast with a hole cut into the butt so we could change his diaper. Once he burned his hand on the iron. That was unnerving. It’s continued throughout his life. A couple years ago, he snapped both of his wrists cleanly in half whilst playing around the rafters of an unfinished house in the rain. Smart kid. You definitely learn what not to do with him around.

All growing up, though, I never felt like I really knew him. After I went on a mission and came home, instead of moving out immediately, I decided to live at home for a while where JJ and Michael were still living. I wanted to develop a relationship with them that I hadn’t been able to because of the age gap. High School and College during Elementary School years. So I stayed put and hung around them as much as I could.

One of the best things I could have done. I felt like I was starting to get closer to them. I felt my relationship with Michael was particularly affected since I knew him the least.

But I still didn’t know him very well. I knew the laughing part of him, the teasing part, the up-front part. He’s my brother. Typically you know more than just the shell. As much fun as the teasing, the laughing, the getting along quite nicely was, I somehow still missed him. I didn’t know what it was.

Then something happened. The darling was uber accident prone and got himself into some trouble. Some pretty bad trouble. It killed us all. I mean, as a family, we’ve never for a second waivered from supporting him and letting him know that we still love him, no matter what. He was put into juvie, and Mom and Dad visit him every week. Us kids visit him whenever we can. It seemed like I was the only failure.

I still loved him and that was what hurt. He writes to us every month at least once. In his letters, he would ask us to write him back. I felt so awful with guilt every time I read that line because I couldn’t. I didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like I was going to chew him out if I didn’t hold myself back. I just didn’t have any words.

Then one day I decided it was time. I missed him. So I wrote to him, letting him know at first that I’d been hurt, then letting him know that I’ll always love him. He wrote back immediately and since then we’ve been in constant contact. I’ve gone by myself to visit him, just the two of us. In those talks and letters, I’ve found someone that I rarely have: someone to tell everything to. Poor kid! He gets it all! I mean AAALLLLLL. He hears everything about me that I hate, everything I’ve done that I wish I hadn’t, all of my weaknesses, things that have happened to me that to me were traumatic in their own ways (they’d be no big deal to anyone else, I’m sure of it; I’m pretty weak). He hears it all.

And he listens. He asks me questions. I remember one day I was sitting with him in the visiting room. Something had just recently happened in my life that affected me so much (like I said – weak) and I could hardly get past a certain point of conversation. I’d kept it light up to a point and then I couldn’t hold it anymore and my voice cracked when my thoughts wouldn’t stop. His face got serious and worried immediately. “Alaina,” he said softly. “What happened?” When I couldn’t talk or said it wasn’t anything really big at all, he repeated the question more firmly, more concernedly. “What happened?”
Of all the people that I know, if I think about it, I can honestly say that he is the one I am most proud of. I have never in my life been more proud of anyone or SO proud of anyone. Ever. He is now a 4.0 student when he was getting barely in the 1’s, if I am correct. His views on life have changed from “I don’t give a shit” to “This is something worth living.” He’s got a plan for his life and everything. He is, quite frankly, amazing. Absolutely.

I miss him. I wish I could see him every day. He gives me a kind of hope that I rarely allow myself to feel; I’d rather not feel hope so that I don’t lose it when I fail. But with him around, I still just can’t help but feel this one – if he can climb up so far, maybe one day I can, too.

Metamorphosis

It was a beautiful sunny day; the sky was clear, the air was cool and not cold; and we were stuck indoors. Such is the life of many Americans. We work indoors for a huge percentage of our lives. On this particular day, however, we were required to step outside just long enough to cross the parking lot and go to our other company building where they were holding a “quarterly meeting.”

We walked slowly, enjoying our momentary freedom. Walking there we took our time…on our way back we took even more time because we didn’t have a deadline for a meeting to start.

My friend/coworker and I were taking the long way around – the one with the most sun – chatting about this and that, when suddenly we both stopped abruptly in our tracks. Crossing the sidewalk as though it were a large road to put behind him was a fuzzy caterpillar.

Trivia on Alaina: since I was a little girl, I’ve always loved caterpillars if only for one thing…they turn into beautiful beings that should be absolutely impossible for something so slow, so simple, so earthbound and so ugly to turn into.

“Awww!!” Both of us coo, looking down on the innocent little creature who is unaware of the turn its life is about to take. In fact, I think that only I was aware of the turn his short life was about to take. I bent down and allowed him to crawl onto my hand, standing up slowly once he did. After a few moments of evaluating and studying the little guy, the two of us continued our trek back to our desks. I hardly took my eyes off of him.

When I got back to my desk, I had nothing but an empty water bottle to put him into. So I did and was awed as I watched him crawl from one droplet of water to the next and saw each drop slowly disappear as an invisible mouth too small to see gulped it up. It was amazing. So simple, but so amazing. At the end of work, I took him home and put him in a little container that can hold probably a gallon of liquid, gave it a floor of dirt and some plants, complete with a stick he could climb up onto to spin his cocoon when he was ready.

A few days later, he spun a cocoon. On the ground. Amongst the fallen leaves and grass. I thought he was dead, though I would never pass him off as so until he just simply did not come out of his cocoon. I was not going to give up on him.

As anyone can tell, I have a thing for butterflies. As previously mentioned, the concept of them turning from something so basic to something that is free, can fly, and is among the most beautiful of all creatures is astounding. When I was a little girl, it was astounding that they could turn from an ugly worm into something so beautiful. I wanted to turn into a beautiful person when I grew up. So I loved butterflies. If they could do it, maybe, maybe I had a chance. As I grew, the concept of the metamorphosis sunk in deeper and butterflies came to mean more than simple beauty.

From slow and crawling on their bellies to being the owners of pure freedom! They grow wings!

They go from eating leaves and weeds and anything they can to drinking nectar.

From an existence focused solely on surviving to the next stage of their life, where chance is 90% of success, they become gods of their kind. They create life by fertilizing flowers and creating more of their own kind (albeit ugly worms again, but still they grow to be just like their parents). They have reached that next stage of their life. They are living their lives to the fullest at this point and meeting the objective of their creation. They are the epitome of success.

So as you can imagine, I became quite attached to the little guy, anticipating this life for him. His cocoon was attached to long blades of grass that we could pick up and examine him more closely (I have since trimmed those down so that he could be left alone). One day I expressed my fear of his death to a coworker who then picked him up. We both saw him wiggle. He was alive! And every now and then when I’m looking at just the right time, I’ll see a tiny little movement, reassuring me that he still is. I love it.

I did as much research as I could and this is what I discovered: Little Xanthone (we named him Xanthone after the main component found in the main fruit that our company is based around) is a moth. So much for my illusions of a butterfly life for my little guy. He will aspire to be a moth. I always knew this was a possibility, though. A 50/50 chance, if you will.

Despite the moth-ness of his nature, I just can’t help but still love him the same as when I thought he could possibly be a butterfly. Let’s think about this: ugly worm to creature with wings. Course, it’s a creature that comes out at night. But still. It is amazing in and of itself.

I deepened my research and I think I’ve narrowed down what type of moth he is and if he is, he is so cool! For example: Moths can hear bats before bats can hear them. Gives them a great advantage. THIS moth, however, can actually talk back to the bats. Well – communicate back, it’s not like they’ve got words. But seriously. How much greater of an advantage is that?!

Moths can also remember things they learned as a caterpillar. Don’t ask me how they discovered that one, but they did. This makes moths quite smart. Helloooo…insect? Thinking? Learning? All I have to say is this: I knew it! Every living thing has more than just instincts. They’ve all got personality, too, right down to plants. This is what I believe.

I have found some pictures of what Xanthone could look like when he emerges. I personally think he is beautiful and I am excited to see him. He is due the end of this month.

And as soon as the butterfly caterpillars come out, rest assured that I shall be raising at least one of those, too. I love things like this!

He's Half of Who I Am

I said I’d have something happy to write about and I do! His name is JJ.


First thought when I said "his?" A crush? A new fling? A new boyfriend? No, not so. Trivia on Alaina: first thought when I say “his” followed immediately by “JJ” should go straight to “Awww, cute! Her brother!”

Yesh, JJ is my little bro. And a very good one at that. I have recently moved back home and over the last few months, I’ve watched this 18-year-old boy and have quite frankly been amazed. And envious. I wish I could be like him in SO many ways!

Here’s a little story of my adorable brother. He was in the High School play this year, for which you have to be in a class of close to 100 people, all of whom are in the play. For an entire semester, they worked side-by-side, spending hours of over(school)time on the lines of the script, the set, the costumes, the rehearsals, other productions, etc. You get to know people real well in such a setting. Semester ends and the class is dissolved. A sad moment, as you can imagine, for friendships are forged and lives are changed forever from being touched by another life that is different from all others.

An assembly is held at the end where 15 awards are given out. What these awards were is similar to “cutest couple,” and “most likely to be famous.” The titles were pre-chosen by the teacher, I believe, and the students voted on who should get them. I don’t know what the titles were, I wasn’t there. I was just told this story by my mom the next day because she was at the assembly.

All 15 awards were handed out like so: “Award for [insert title]. You voted for [insert name]!” [insert much shouting and applause, the winner accepting a physical token of said award, and the moving on to next award]

After all awards had been handed out, the teacher proceeds to give a little speech that went something like this (and JJ may roll his eyes at me for botching this):

“Every production needs someone who is the comic relief. When tempers rose, this person knew just what to say and how to say it to lighten the mood and make everyone feel better. He knew exactly how to make us all laugh and when to do it….who did you vote for?”

The ENTIRE class screamed without hesitation in one voice JJ!! And they kept on screaming and clapping as he walked up to accept his award. I can imagine his walk and it’s probably best that I wasn’t there. I cried at the storytelling. I would have cried harder had I been there to witness it.

That, folks, is my brother. He knows how to work with people, he knows how to deal with them.

And he knows how to pull out my favorite part of me.

I have a complex that I am the most boring person that I know. I feel dull and unentertaining and unpopular and blah, blah, blah. But when I am with JJ, I swear, he makes me feel like the funniest, most awesome person to be around! How does he do that? I just don’t know.

Last night we were watching X-Men II since we’d both recently seen X-Men Origins. The night before, we’d watched the first one. Last night I felt myself getting hyper and the more he reacted, the freer I felt! I didn’t feel trapped by that stupid complex. I felt like it didn’t matter what I was like and I didn’t have to impress – he’d still care for me no matter what. And damn it! I was FUNNY that night! I had ME laughing! Like, hard!

I don’t know what it is about him, but he can make you forget about what you think is wrong with you. When you’re with him, just for those few moments, you are free of those depressing thoughts. You are just you as you were always meant to be. All because he has somehow nonverbally invited you to become that person in his presence.

Now can you see why I want to be like him?