The Beauty and the Beast of Patterns

For those following for the art, you lucked out this weekend with the back-to-back pieces. This middle-school work matches the post for obvious reasons.

I don’t know what makes me this way, but it is the way I am. It might be my randomly stiff memory, it might be my tendency to connect everything I see, or it might be my hypersensitivity to color and smell. Or there may be something entirely different at work in my brain. The bottom line is that I pick up on patterns that sometimes weird out even myself. 3-2-1-5-7-9 and 4-2-0-3-7-11 follow the same rule to me; it’s just doubled. 2 and 7 are central numbers in decreasing, then increasing sequences. I was given the first list to memorize, then generated the second for others to memorize. But I don’t stick to just numerical values (even if they can be some of my favorites).


I planned on writing this blog tonight since earlier today, then my Youth Minister at Youth Group mentioned peoples’ inability to remember what everyone wears in conjunction with our tendency to collect too much “stuff.” I laughed out loud as I thought of patterns in clothing over the last few years. Sophomore year, the orchestra classes got matching black shirts to wear on special occasions. Second semester, everyone started wearing the shirts on the same day, week after week. Tuesdays always resulted in Jill wearing her shirt, Wednesday brought Joe and Mr. Nacy with their shirts, and on Thursday, Michelle, Suhaas, and Maggie were guaranteed to be wearing their shirts. I decided to jump on the bandwagon and ended up wearing mine every Tuesday as well. Moving on from the orch shirts: everyone has favorite articles or outfits, and one of my favorite examples was my lab partner last year, Tucker, who loved to wear camo shorts with cargo pockets with a neon yellow shirt. I walked into class on his birthday and knew exactly what would be on his back and around his waist. I was right.

Friend groups

As far as friend groups go, I’ve always been fond of three. I can’t say it has always worked out, but it has always been the way things have settled. At least for a year or two. Someone always moves by the end of the second year. In preschool, the trio consisted of myself, Patrick J, and Sean G. Patrick moved after kindergarten and I lost contact with Sean. By third grade, I was in with Eric A and a different Sean G. This time it was Sean that moved. I slowly drifted from Eric, and didn’t talk to him after fifth grade. Sixth grade, the trio in question involved girls. Maddy S and Grayson K were both in a vast quantity of classes with me, including the bio class we sat together in and loved! Now is a good time to mention, too, that a redhead has always been involved (Sean, Sean, and Maddy). Needless to say, the group split at the end of the year. Grayson moved to Maryland and Maddy transferred to a private school. I later found out that Jill M had come from Maryland just a few months prior to Grayson’s departure. I met Jill and Amanda T (another redhead) in french class, followed by orchestra, on the first day of high school. There was talk throughout the year of Amanda moving to Louisiana, but she thankfully didn’t. Instead, Jill moved to Washington after sophomore year. She has come back to visit on a few different occasions, including for Junior Prom, but, I’m sad to say, the trend has still held true. I reconnected with Maddy, and, other than for a few months, haven’t really lost some sort of contact with Jill, but I still can’t help but laugh when I analyze my life and interpersonal trends. Maybe people need to befriend me if they want their family to move out?


The final topic of the night is certainly the most juicy. I overwork myself. I expect a lot and convince others to expect even more at times. As a result, my life delivers me quite a few opportunities to build an interesting plot. I will admit to breaking. I work as long and hard as I can until my body gives out. I’m trying to get better about it, but the jury’s still out as to the result. As I’m sure I’ve established, my brain makes connections everywhere I go. I’m used to them and can usually make sense of them if given enough time. The problem comes when I have to get others to accept the conclusions I have drawn. Sometimes I can’t express myself well in spoken word (usually written word works better, but I’ll let you be the judge of that). Sometimes I leave out details that ruin my arguments. Sometimes the other person is too stubborn. What this means is that there are occasions that a conflict builds and I can’t express a conclusion that will leave both sides happy. Often this is because the basis of my arguments involve more work for both sides in hopes of far greater achievements as a whole team. The sad result: I explode. I remove myself from a situation and entertain one or two trusted friends with a detailed rant and an extreme action plan. I then take the first few steps in the plan by ensuring that I do not re-immerse myself in the troubling situation for at least the immediate future. After I’ve been given a chance to be on my own, I begin to make arguments for the other side along with my own counter arguments. They start off strongly in my favor, though highly unlikely, and resolve (anywhere from 30 minutes to several months later) into a solid action plan in which communication is integral and I am established as a sort of ambassador between levels of a hierarchy within a system. This always means more work for me, but it helps the system so I happily go along as long as voices are being heard equally. For those searching for an explanation of this portion’s depth: I’m currently in the processing stage of a fair sized conflict as those around me know.

Who knows, I might start a feed on patterns and possible reasons for their existence. I’ve barely even scratched the tip of the iceberg as of yet and I find more each day. If anyone else has patterns to share, please do so; I love to hear them!



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