Itsy-Bitsy Emu

Thoughts of the moment (while making dinner)

2012-01-11T16:16:00.000-08:00

Shepherd's pie (actually cottage pie, with beef instead of lamb) is delicious. Adding celery and peas, because I have them.

Three of my favorite fruits are avocados, kiwis, and grapefruit. All three of these you can easily eat by slicing them in half and scooping the fruit out with a spoon. I am attempting to decide whether this fact is part of what makes them favorites, or if it is incidental to my love of them.

I actually don't have any fruits that I dislike. Except olives, which I don't count anyway. Condiments aren't a fruit.

I don't care as much for pineapple or cantaloupe as for other fruits. They are what I consider "not my favorite fruits" - I don't generally get them because I love all the other fruits so much.

Why don't more savory American dishes call for cinnamon? This is a horrible slight to a wonderful seasoning.

Yes, Pandora. I'm still listening. Like I have been all afternoon. Baby needs his Chopin, you know.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

New Year

2012-01-02T14:30:00.000-08:00

Yeah, so I'm really bad at this. Sorry.

In my second-to-last post, I gave a year's update which essentially said, "hey I didn't post for a year because my life was radically changing and I just got married."

Now, four months later, it's time for another one of those. See, soon after my last post, I got pregnant. Yay! Babies! Womulets! (that one's for the Reynolds clan.) Despite my excitement, I have been exhausted and unwell for the last several months. I am only now getting a chance to catch my breath. During my online silence, real life has been pretty crazy. Quick overview:

I got more and more depressed at my job, working for B&N as the digital sales lead. In September, my husband got a great full-time job at a stable company, so I resigned from that position, taking a huge cut in both salary and hours. This was a big leap of faith, but as my husband told me - the money was not worth the pain it was giving me.
I found out I was pregnant.
Dropping to a part-time bookseller helped my stress and anxiety attacks, but I was still pretty miserable. It used to be that I loved working there. I mean...a bookstore! What more could I ask for? But the nook has destroyed the soul of the company, and is now destroying the souls of those who work there, who have loved the bookstore in the past and hurt to see the changes in policy and priorities.
At the beginning of November, my husband's workplace hired me on seasonally - full time at good pay. I quit my job at Barnes and Noble. Just over two years ago when I started there, I would not have expected to ever quit to leave for another job. I figured I would work there until I became a stay-at-home mother. It breaks my heart, how soulless the store has become. I hope that not all of them nationwide are becoming like that, that it had more to do with our specific management, but I fear for the worst.
Working at my new job allowed me to get out of retail before the holiday season. This was wonderful! I was able to spend Thanksgiving weekend with family, and we had a week off for Christmas, during which time we visited my husband's family, and spent the day before Christmas at my parents' house. I'd forgotten how nice it is to actually have a break at the holidays. Or maybe I'd never known - after all, during school it was more a time to crash or catch-up on school work, and I'd been in retail ever since then.
Now that the seasonal job has ended, I am staying at home. I am a housewife and soon-to-be stay-at-home mother. This has been the best thing for my mental health that I could have asked for. I am finally able to start getting our home into order, to cook good meals, to keep things clean and organized. To rest. To read again. To spend time with my husband in the evenings. To gestate :D

Our current situation is much more difficult financially. I freak out about it about twice or three times a week. My darling husband has so much more faith than I do - he is so strong for me, and I need that so much. I am so thankful to have him by my side.

Now it is a new year, and time for goals. I hope to write on this blog at least once a month. I have done it before. I know I can do it. Perhaps I will update more often, but I won't feel bad if it is only once a month. I hope to have an efficient organization system in place before womulet number one comes along (I'm due in late May). I hope to have enough faith to give first, then budget from what remains after our tithe. And to live off that budget, and not ever dip into savings for daily needs, and to NEVER charge to a credit card. Also, I'm stopping picking my nails. For real this time.

I hope the new year finds you well, dear friends.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

Easy Homemade Granola

2011-08-03T10:04:00.000-07:00

I grew up eating this granola by the bowl (much to the chagrin of my mother, who preferred to use it in moderation, sprinkling it over yogurt). Now I am making it. Because it is 1) easy, 2) delicious, and 3) inexpensive.

I make a double batch from the original (my measurements, not the originals, are listed below in the recipe) because honestly, a single batch lasts about two days. Buying everything in bulk at Win-Co, a double batch only costs a little over six dollars.

That’s reasonable, in my opinion. It might be a little more expensive than, say, cheerios. But it is way more delicious, nutritious, and filling. Did I mention it’s easy? And it’s a nice alternative to hot cereal (my preferred breakfast) when it’s so hot out.

Here we go: Homemade Granola of Awesome

1) Mix in a large bowl:
- 2c rolled oats
- 2c chopped nuts (I use walnuts, because they’re cheapest)
- 1c sunflower seeds
-2c wheat or bran flakes

2) Stir together over low heat until melted:
- 2/3c honey
- 4T peanut butter
- 2t vanilla
- 4T sesame seeds (The original recipe called for these to be stirred in above, but in our experience, they just fall to the bottom and end up clumping together. Stirring them into the melted deliciousness helps them get a more even distribution.)

3) Pour -2- over -1- and stir until all the dry ingredients are well coated. Spread on a cookie sheet (we have found a broiler pan works well) and bake for 25 minutes at 325*, stirring every five minutes.

4) If desired, add 2c dried fruit. (This is not something I desire. But hey, whatever makes you happy.)

So obviously, for about 25 minutes, it does require attention. But not difficult attention. More of a make-sure-it-doesn’t-burn sort of attention. And speaking of burning, if you do make a single batch (halving my measurements above), about 15 minutes in the oven will be fine. Or it will burn. And then it tastes nasty and you end up eating cheerios the next morning anyway and throwing it away and starting over. (trust me. personal experience, here.)

Enjoy!

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Hello. It has been a year.

2011-06-15T15:32:00.000-07:00

I am sorry to not have written in so long. A lot has happened in the last year. I left school, met a boy, got a promotion at work, got engaged to the boy, married the boy, went on a honeymoon.

So now you are all caught up.

I am going to attempt to do better, again. For a long time I posted at least once a month. I would like to write more often than that. I enjoy writing, and it does seem to help me deal with stress. I do still journal, and have occasionally posted on my other blog (www.poorerquarters.wordpress.com). But that blog is more...journey-orientated, while this one has always been more of my random thoughts and happenings, and sometimes rants. It seems all right to keep them both.

I hope you are still visiting, dear readers. I hope you have not abandoned and forgotten my lowly little blog, here.

I miss you.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

In Defense of My Driving Habits

2010-06-05T00:46:00.000-07:00

I am just going to be up front about this and admit it: I drive under the speed limit on the freeway. I promise that I am not a bad driver. In fact, I am quite a good driver, and often had to navigate very full Los Angeles freeways on a time crunch and did so successfully. And so forth. I am capable of driving with traffic, and even of driving more quickly than traffic, doing all the crazy sort of weaving in and out that I dislike so much in other drivers. But when I have the choice (which is most of the time), I drive about five miles per hour under the limit, at least when in town (long-distance (to Seattle, for example) I drive about five miles per hour over the limit). I have various reasons for this, which I will lay out like so:

One. Isabel (my lovely car) gets her best gas mileage at about fifty-five miles per hour. So it saves me money, in theory, to drive that speed (speed limit on the freeway through town is sixty).

Two. It greatly reduces my stress. Several facets under this point being,

A, When driving the speed limit or above, one has to worry about passing frequently, or speeding up and slowing down as necessary to stay with traffic. When you are driving under the speed limit, everything else generally flows around you, and you have to pass much less often. No more stress about openings and timings. Just stay in the right lane and let everyone else worry about their own selves.

B, I have noticed that many, if not most, drivers refuse to get up to speed before merging onto the freeway, even when the on-ramp is long enough to allow it. People tend to merge at about fifty or fifty-five, and then speed up the rest of the way. (This makes no sense to me - I get up to sixty if I can, and then gradually reduce my speed.) I have found that driving at fifty-five makes it so that I rarely have to brake or accelerate to allow someone to merge. It puts enough distance between my car and the car in front of me to let someone in. Occasionally, some genius merges at about forty-five, and then accelerates to seventy posthaste, which baffles and momentarily upsets me. As a general rule, however, much less stress when going by on-ramps.

C, I never have to worry about getting pulled over for speeding. Because I do not speed. That is a pretty simple one, I think.

Three. It does not significantly add to my driving time. One reason I drive more quickly on long trips is that that five miles per hour does add up on a trip across the state (in five hours, the slower car would be twenty-five miles behind the faster car; increase the difference to ten miles per hour and the faster car is fifty miles ahead). But on a fifteen mile drive (which is about the longest one can go in town - from the Maple/Ash exit to the Sullivan exit) it really makes no difference. Multiple times I have seen someone speeding along, weaving in and out of traffic, only to pull up behind them at the stop light when I exit. And if the light does not manage to be an issue for the faster car, it is still a negligible difference, a minute or two at most.

So. There is my defense, take it as you will.

Blessings on your travels,

Emily.

All in.

2010-05-18T14:13:00.001-07:00

I moved out of my parents' house, into an apartment.
So life is still a little crazy.
Yeah.

I promise I'll be back when I get things settled.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

Best Thing EVER.

2010-04-15T12:03:00.000-07:00

Dear JaneGirl (and others, but mostly for Jane).
GUESS what I just held.
...
If you guess that I just held an emu egg, you guessed correctly.

: D
!!!

How did I attain this, you ask?
There is a man who comes to the clinic who RAISES EMUS! He has an EMU FARM! How awesome is that?

You can not comprehend how excited I am right now.
I hope you are doing a happy dance, too.

Blessings you your travels,
Emily.

I am tired

2010-03-29T09:54:00.000-07:00

And overwhelmed. So...yeah.
Things should clear up soon. In the process of making some major decisions right now, should have some more time for writing soon.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

If I Patronized Companies Based on Their Advertisements

2010-02-10T19:33:00.001-08:00

There are some really stupid advertisements on television. But some are good. If I were to choose certain companies or brands based solely on their advertising:

Transportation: I would purchase a Ford truck F-150. Their advertisements are visually appealing, with just enough humor. Good colors, good font, not sappy. I do not like car advertisements that are sappy.

Insurance: AllState. I really like the AllState guy. Are you in good hands? His voice is just so pleasant, and it is a good catchphrase for an insurance company. (Traveler's comes in a close second, but they have not had advertisements here for as long, and at the endings of their commercials, a person reaches out of the frame to pull up an umbrella out of where the text is, and that annoys me. But the rest of it, very visually appealing.)

Soda: Coca-Cola. I love their commercials. There are few that I have not liked over the years. This one is probably my favorite. I also especially like one of their most recent ones, which encourages recycling. The ending is precious. (I can not find it on youtube, though.)

Alcohol: Budweizer. I strongly dislike Bud Light's advertisements, but the ones for Budweizer almost always make me smile. I love the ones with the horses especially. Like Coca-Cola, they tend to put out "feel good" commercials, and those work for me. Or, they would, if I were the sort of person who purchased according to what I liked on the television.

Jewelry: Kay Jewelers. With the exception of their recent "In all the years I've been coming here, I've never seen a storm this bad" advertisement, which is just too rediculous for me, their commercials make me tear up. It is all right to be sappy when you are advertising jewelry - they do so without going over the top. Also, Every Kiss Begins with Kay is a clever slogan, and one that they have had for a long time. I do not like it when companies change their slogan, so this puts them even higher in my opinion.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

Keeping Up

2010-01-27T16:12:00.000-08:00

I am only posting because the month is nearly over, and all of last year I posted at least once per month, and I would be unnecessarily upset with myself if I broke that off now.

It is not that I do not have anything about which to write: I do! But I do not have time. Ever. I might get to have a full night's sleep again after the summer quarter is over. Perhaps. But right now, the semester is only just begun (we are currently in the middle of the third week, and only the second week of clinic, so the first barely counted, really) and I am running on empty. I do not know if I can keep this up.

I talked about this feeling with one of my clinical supervisors today. Some people do not like her, but she is one of my favorites because she is blunt. If she thinks you have said something stupid, she will let you know, and that is good for me sometimes. I could not handle it if everyone was that way, but having her tends to be beneficial. I was talking about how I did not know if I could make it another year. She told me to stop thinking about it like that.

"Say, 'I can make it through the end of February'," she said to me. I sighed.
"I can make it through the end of next week...I think," I replied.
She gave me a look. "I can make it through tomorrow," I said decisively.

There are lots of things I want to write about, to tell you about. At the top of my list is some half-formed thoughts about life lessons learned from children's literature, specifically Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle. But she shall have to wait, because I have already spent more time that I have available on this post.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

The Spice of Life

2009-12-23T19:57:00.001-08:00

I am a firm believer that basil is the spice of life, despite everyone else insisting that variety has that title.

Pandora keeps telling me that I can add variety to a station, wondering if they might be permitted to show me how to do so. I already know the process, and am simply not interested. But it does cause me to wonder what strange combinations might be found by merging some of my stations.

Byzantine Chant with Iron Maiden, perhaps? Or Journey with Beethoven? Merging my Coldplay station with my The Killers station would be fairly anticlimactic, I am sure. But some others might prove interesting.

Perhaps when I am feeling more bored and adventurous. Possibly when unable to sleep some late night, tired of playing solitaire, I shall add some spice to my apparently drab stations.

Blessings on your travels,

Emily.

Winter is Apple Pie Time

2009-12-15T00:26:00.000-08:00

I have never associated apple pie with summertime, although many people seem to do so. Summertime is too hot for much cooking - heating up the oven does not make much sense when the air conditioner is trying its hardest to keep the house cool. Winter is when we bake. It has always made sense to me, even when I did not understand about utility bills.

My mother makes the best apple pie crust I have ever had. I make a fairly decent one, following her (incredibly simple) recipe, but she has the touch. Her crust recipe makes a little bit more than needed for the size of pie pans we have, and so part of her making an apple pie was always to also make a cinnamon pie. Cinnamon pie is essentially pie crust rolled out on a cookie sheet, sprinkled with cinnamon sugar, and baked. It is delicious.

It is also very messy. One of the house rules was that cinnamon pie was to be eaten on the front porch. In the winter. I remember standing out front, all bundled up and shivering, eating cinnamon pie with my sister. Because it was worth the cold.

My mother made apple pie last week, and a cinnamon pie to go with it, of course.

I sat carefully at the table, leaning over my plate and biting ever so gently, and then thanked her for not making me stand outside.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

Five Things

2009-12-04T23:25:00.000-08:00

One: Facebook tells me that today is Josh's birthday. My engagement calendar tells me that Wednesday the ninth is. I am not sure which to believe. My impulse is to believe my engagement calendar, because I have had friends who put down false dates for various reasons. Of course, I do not know why Josh would do that. I also do not know why I would have the wrong date written down. I am more likely to make a mistake about this than Josh is, though. Happy birthday, dear friend.

Two: I have seven school days left until the end of the semester. In that time, I have two days of classes (though only one left of research methods. and the people rejoiced.), two sessions of clinic, one session of APD diagnostics, two final exams, two final projects, and one final presentation. I feel much less overwhelmed than one might expect from that list. I actually feel that that is adequate time for everything and that all will be well at the end of this next week and a half. I certainly am looking forward to break, though.

Three: I am frustrated at my Dad and his constant refusal to try new or unfamiliar things, especially food. "Oh I love Thai food! But I do not like peanut sauce. Or coconut milk. Or curry." "Well, Mexican's all right when your mom makes it," (which means chicken burritos) "but I do not really like Mexican restaurant food." Gah. I love trying new foods and it makes me upset when he will not.

Four: It is freaking cold here, and I miss California. I am all for winter, and snow. But right now it is too cold and too dry to snow, so it is mostly just miserable and windy.

Five: A coworker wants to set me up with another coworker (whom I have met once). I am not sure how I feel about this.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

It is good that I love my job.

2009-11-04T09:38:00.001-08:00

I had a hellish day yesterday. It seems that every time I think that things are evening out and looking up, everything crashes down again. I do not want to post all the details, but essentially I got pulled out by two professors during lunch and told that I am unteachable, have anger and confrontation issues, and that I will not make it in the professional world. Needless to say, it was a lovely conversation full of fluffy bunnies and rainbows and butterflies. And lots of tears and stuttering, too, but that is usually a given with me. So it destroyed pretty much my entire day.

And then I had to go to work at five thirty.

I was not looking forward to it. After my lunchtime discussion I nearly called in and told them I was sick. But I went.

And, wonder of wonders, it made me feel better. Because I love my job. I love the store itself, I love being surrounded by books, I love the music, I love my coworkers and managers, I love (most of) our customers, I love that I get fifty percent off items in the cafe (hot cocoa for a dollar and thirty cents? yes, please!), I even love straightening up at the end of the night.

I realized again last night how grateful I am not not be at Albertson's anymore. It would have destroyed me to have had to go work in the deli last night. I probably would not have made it through. But being at Barnes and Noble gave me energy and some happiness where I had none.

Praise God for small reliefs such as that.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

Only a Year?

2009-10-27T21:48:00.000-07:00

Today marks one year of my being back here. I still do not want to be here, although a lot of healing has happened over the past twelve months. I am more hopeful for the future, now. I think I have grown; I hope I have, at least. It is hard to believe that it has only been a year - it seems so much longer than that. But then again, it also astounds me that it has been a year already. Time has always seemed paradoxical to me, I suppose.

Not much more to say about it, really. But it needed remembering.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

As Insanity Plateaus

2009-10-19T21:54:00.000-07:00

Just a quick update, tonight. Life keeps on going, as it is wont to do. I have settled into what seems to be a good routine. I am finally used to my class/clinic schedule (half-way through the semester), and getting a decent amount of sleep. I love clinic so much, which is encouraging as that is what I plan to be doing for the majority of the rest of my life. I wish I could talk more about clinic, but HIPPA forbids it, so I shall refrain.

I also love my job. It has been a long time since I have been able to say that, and it feels wonderful to be able to do so. For I while I said I loved Albertson's, but that was more of a reaction against ICT than affection for the job itself, and I was really fairly miserable there. But Barnes and Noble! I still get giddy when I think about it. Sometimes I will be there, at night, straightening books on the shelf, and just start giggling, uncontrollable happiness welling up inside of me. It has been a long time since I really enjoyed what I am doing, and it feels nice to have that again.

Acclimating to my schedule also means I now have a tiny bit more free time than I have in the past few weeks. I get to go see Where the Wild Things Are with Glennda tomorrow, and I am incredibly excited about it. It was a defining book of my childhood, and I have only heard good things about it so far. Also, spending time with Glennda is the best part of being in Spokane, so tomorrow evening is doubly lovely for that reason.

I am looking ahead more and more, trying to figure out where my life is headed, where I am going to end up, even just for my hospital internship. I will be applying at hospitals in the Seattle area and the LA area. I think I would be happy in either place - I just do not want to be stuck here. It is still a while out, but planning is a good thing.

I had a good talk with a dear friend last week about healing. It is a difficult thing. I think I will write more on that, later.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

Missing Torrey

2009-10-05T22:05:00.000-07:00

This week I got an email from a professor:

"Congratulations, you earned one of the top four scores on Exam 1 in Neuropath. Nice work!"

This email was addressed to three people (including myself).

...

I miss Torrey folk, with whom I could have had an amusing, nerdy moment.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

Why I Am Absent

2009-09-22T23:03:00.000-07:00

School is horribly hectic. I have very long days, and a lot of reading and preparation work. I also started clinic last week, which is fun but very very time-consuming. I also started my new job last week, which is wonderful. However, during my application and interview process, it was established that I was looking for twelve to fifteen hours per week; this week I was scheduled for twenty-three. So. That was fun. I had a chat with the scheduling manager tonight, and he apologized and said that he did not realize he had scheduled me for so many hours, and would be sure to keep it around fifteen in the future. But still, fifteen hours is a lot of time. Occasionally I eat and sleep, though not as often or as much as I should. Somewhere in my insane schedule I need to get the second part of my two-step TB test (sounds much more like a dance than it really is), and find some time to get to the chiropractor (I have not been in two weeks. I am in pain, but have had no time to go. Bad things.) On top of school work I have (a lot of) reading for my catechism class that I need to get done, as well as church services Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday evenings in addition to Sunday mornings. I am taking the bus to school, which means that I have to leave my house an hour and fifteen minutes before my eight o'clock class starts (luckily I can be a morning person if needed, and riding the bus allows me a bit of reading time). It also means that I am on a tight schedule for how long I can hang around the school getting things done after class or clinic is over.

So.

I am sure that you can understand why I have not written to inform you about how my graduate studies are going, or how my clients are, or whether I am enjoying my new job. I am hopeful that things will settle down after another week or so (I have two exams next week for which I have not yet begun to study), and then perhaps I will be able to catch up with people.
Be assured, I miss you, and would love to talk. I am sorry I do not have time to do so, but this too shall pass, however painfully (like a kidney stone).

And all will be well.

On Starting Again

2009-08-23T11:59:00.001-07:00

My orientation for my graduate program starts in an hour.
I am excited and nervous and scared to death.

...

I was going to write more, but that about sums it up, and I do not think I can put the rest of my thoughts and emotions into words right now.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

The Waiting is the Hardest Part

2009-08-05T10:56:00.000-07:00

Driving back to Spokane from Seattle is always difficult for me. Interstate Ninety goes across Washington (and all the way to Boston, for that matter), but to get to that freeway I have to drive on the Five South (which stretches from Canada to Mexico) for a few miles. This time was the hardest: a full tank of gas, a good eight hours before I would be missed, enough clothes to get by for a while.

In my head, I know that Seattle is not much closer to LA than Spokane is - only about a hundred and fifty mile difference, since from Spokane one cuts through the middle of Oregon. Pythagorean theorem at work, there. But being on that road, it seems so much closer, so much more possible. Yesterday I cried as, at the last second, I took the exit for I-Ninety. Twice I nearly turned around and went back, ran south.

But I know that I can not go back, not yet. I have school starting soon. I have a job. But two years is so long to wait to be back. So much can happen in that time, and I am so afraid that I will never be able to return. I constantly fear that I am losing my friendships, that I will end up alone.

I am still angry that I was forced to come here. I am still lonely and hurting. I do not know if I will heal from it, because it hurts, awfully. I do not know if I want the pain to lessen, if I want to be comfortable and happy here. I want to go back; I do not want to become complacent here, stuck here forever. I am so scared of that.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

"The Lazy Bloggers Post Generator"

2009-07-23T22:41:00.000-07:00

Goodness Gracious I just had a cup of tea and realized I haven't updated this since Paris Hilton was in jail... You wouldn't believe that my hands were chopped off and I was waiting for bionic ones. I prostrate myself in sorrow and beg thy forgiveness..

I'm flat out with sleeping my way to the top, learning to speak Japanese, just generally being a terrible burden to my local police, my day starts with the dawn patrol from sun-up to dusk. I'm beyond drunk most of the time. I need some perspective.

I hope you're having a good life if one more person emails me to ask why I haven't posted today I'll start posting pictures of toe fungus, or fecal murals. You have my word! Unless of course the pool with the cocktail bar is heated!.

All right, hopefully the absurdity of that, combined with the atrocious grammar and rampant punctuation errors, as well as the flagrant use of contractions, made you realize that I did not actually write that. And...none of it is true, except for the "I just had a cup of tea" part. In fact, I also had two delicious chocolate-chocolate-chip cookies. The bit above was courtesy of The Lazy Bloggers Post Generator, which actually takes longer than some of my posts do to write. But it was amusing, and that is what is important to me. Take a look, be amused.

Working at the deli continues to be better than answering phones for Sprint. I hope that I can get out of there soon, though. I keep checking back at Barnes and Noble - they tell me they are going to have some openings soon. Working in a bookstore is pretty much my dream part-time-while-in-school job. In fact, I was thinking about this earlier, and I think that if I were not on a career path that I am very excited about and know I will love, I would not mind working in a bookstore long-term. I love bookstores. I love books. I love people who love books. So hopefully that will work out.

My parents are going over to Seattle this weekend, for my cousin's wedding on Saturday. It will be nice to have a good stretch of alone time. I was worried that my dad would decide to not go, but everything is moving forward as planned, and they are leaving at six or seven tomorrow morning. I am tired of living with my parents, but it really is the best option for me right now, financially. It is allowing me to save some money, and I hope that that will result in my being able to pay of my student loans more quickly after I am out of school. Of course, that all depends on my not going insane from living with them. My sanity is ever up in the air, so we shall see how that goes. Time alone will be very good.

There is more, but not for tonight.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Wait, What?

2009-07-12T23:49:00.000-07:00

Another sign I read everyday on my way to work is outside of a bar. It says,
THE M'S ARE HOT
THE BEER IS TOO

...what?

I do not know much about beer, but I am fairly certain it is not supposed to be hot.

Of course, "The M's" is talking about the Mariners, in Seattle. Since they are Washington's only major league baseball team, most people in Spokane futilely cheer for them as well. And if the beer is as hot as the Mariners are, then perhaps it would not be so awful.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

On My List of Things That frighten Me.

2009-07-11T23:25:00.000-07:00

Yes, that is frighten with a little 'f.' The list is not of things that Frighten me, or of things which I Fear, in the style of A.A. Milne, where Important words are capitalized, especially Nouns. Perhaps the list is more Things that Make Me Nervous. Anyway. On this list is Chiropractors. I think I may have been raised to be Nervous about Chiropractors, or even to be frightened of them.

I like my job (this is not as horrid a non-sequitur as it may seem). It is not something that I want to be doing for the rest of my life, but it is steady and active and my shifts go by quickly. And, of course, it gives me money. However, the past two weeks were hellish. I flew back from LA on Monday, June twenty-ninth, and worked the next nine days without a break. And really, my visit to California was not much of a break, because I was seeing people and down late and up early and quite busy overall. So, I worked over the holiday weekend, and most of my shifts were nine or ten hours. My longest, most horrid day/shift was Thursday, July second - that one was twelve hours long; I was called in two hours early for my scheduled eight (and one-half, if you include my lunch break) hour shift, and did not finish closing until an hour and a half after my shift was supposed to end: ten-thirty to ten-thirty. Horrible.

So, sometime in there I strained something in my back. And then not having a break aggravated it. And it was hurting quite badly by the end of my shift on Wednesday, and on Thursday I could barely move at all. I had planned to get a lot done on my day off - mostly cleaning my room and doing laundry - but I ended up spending most of the day curled up in an armchair. In a moment of temporary insanity, perhaps, I called my best friend and asked for the name and number of her chiropractor. I did not know if he was covered in my insurance, but the one thing in the situation that I wanted less than to go to a chiropractor was to go to a chiropractor chosen indiscriminately off of a list from my insurance company's website. (As it turns out, he is a provider for my insurance, so that is going to work out nicely.)

So on Friday I faced my Nerves, and went to see the Chiropractor. The doctor, while working on adjusting me, informed me that he had never seen anyone my size (height, weight) so tight and tense. I am unsure as to whether or not I should be proud of this accomplishment. He was especially impressed/horrified by the knot in my left shoulder which I have had since I can remember - probably at least since junior high. Afterward, I was able to move and straighten up some, so that was a significant improvement, though I was still in pain. I went in again this morning, very, very, very sore from yesterday, for another adjustment, and this evening I am feeling well. That is, I am feeling no worse than I generally would at the end of a work-day. But the doctor says that we are going to get me Well, or All Better, which is fairly Exciting, although the whole thing still makes me fairly Nervous.

I do like having movement, though. And the cracking is simultaneously absolutely terrifying and extremely satisfying.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Sign, Sign, Everywhere a Sign

2009-07-09T12:50:00.000-07:00

Whatever happened to "Read a good book this summer!" or "Have fun and be safe!" on school reader-boards? For the month leading up to Independence Day, the reader-board on the middle school I drive by on my way to work read, "Fireworks are Illegal. $513 fine in Spokane." At first I laughed, but in retrospect, it makes me sort of sad. Yes, fireworks are illegal in Spokane County. Yes, we can get them very easily because we are about twenty minutes from Idaho. Yes, middle-schoolers probably should not play with fireworks even if they were not illegal. But is it the responsibility of the school to warn them against that? Is such a warning even effective? I feel like the kids who are likely to acquire and play with fireworks are the ones who are also likely, in general, to do whatever the school says not to do. Signs like this seem to me to, at worst, aggravate the problem, or, at best, have no effect whatsoever. I very much prefer those signs which encourage good behavior, not discourage negative. After all, while the message is essentially the same, "Read Read Read" or "Have fun in the Sun!" are much nicer than "Stop being a couch potato!" or "TV rots your brain!"

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Priorities

2009-06-08T14:26:00.000-07:00

I would like a new cell phone. I say would like rather than need, because I have a cell phone that works. I do not technically need a new phone. I needed a new phone in December, because my faithful old Motorola decided that she had been dropped too many times and was going to start not telling me when I had a voice mail, and other such nuisances in order to indicate that she was tired and wanted to be done. So I went to the AT&T store and got a new phone.

The problem that I have when I shop for a new phone is that my priorities are so very different from what a phone sales-person is used to hearing. Does it have a calculator? Can I set more than one alarm at a time on the alarm clock? How does it feel when I hold it to my head? It seemed to confuse the man that I did not care about things such as the megapixels in (on? of?) the camera or how quickly it could connect to the internet. He kept trying to sell me an i-phone, because store representatives work off of commission. Do you think that someone whose main concern in a cell phone is whether it has a calculator and multiple alarm capabilities needs an i-phone? I do not think so.

I finally told him I wanted the free Nokia, just to make him stop trying to convince me that I would like a touch-screen after I got used to it, because his wife had said that she would not want an i-phone for just that reason but now she is used to the touch-screen and loves it and would never want anything else. Free Nokia, please. Of course, he could not tell me anything about it, really. It is a basic use phone, and representatives do not tend to learn about the specifics of those. For the record, it does not have a calculator. Who makes a cell phone without a calculator in it? Nokia, that is who. Goodness. It also does not have multiple alarm capabilities (eh. oh well. it would not matter if that were the only thing wrong with it) and it is not a flip-phone, so it is a bit small.

I do not like it. I miss my old phone.

I am eligible for a full discount on an upgrade next August. I have found a different AT&T store, about the same distance away from my house, where the sales representatives are not nearly so pushy, where they actually listen to you and to what you want. So when I can get something new, I will go there, explain what is important to me, and be willing to spend a small amount of money in order to get something with which I will actually be happy.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

I Worry Too Much, Probably

2009-06-03T09:55:00.000-07:00

Esmeralda will not eat. I have not fed her since the week before I went to California...May sixteenth? Nearly three weeks. She should be hungry by now. But on Sunday she sat in the bathtub staring at the rat (who was fairly freaked out) for about four hours. Then she finally decided she was bored and started to climb up the faucet. I kept the rat overnight in my small carrying cage that I use when I take her to the vet, and tried again on Monday. Same story, except she started climbing in only about one hour rather than four this time. By that time on Monday, the pet store where I buy rats was already closed, so I kept it overnight again (my goodness, rats smell horrid! it slept outside that night.) and took it to the store in the morning.

I explained what was going on, and asked if I could have an "IOU one rat" or something, since I did not have anything else to do with it, and was fairly ill-equipped to keep it until Esmi was ready to eat. Luckily, the gentleman working knows me by now (since I come in every week or two to buy a rat) and was willing to do just that. So now I have an IOU for a rat, which is amusing to me.

And I have a snake who will not eat. I do not know what is wrong. She is not due to shed for another month or so. She is not having any digestion problems. She is being fairly active, and looks healthy. She has never refused food before. My mom thinks that maybe she is finally full - I moved up to rats from mice about two months ago. Perhaps I will not have to feed her as often now. They are rather large. I will try again in a week. I am not sure what I will do if she continues to not eat at that time. But I likely am too worried, and she is probably fine. We shall see.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Why Do I Not Write More?

2009-06-01T21:17:00.000-07:00

That is a very good question. I do not know. But I am writing now, and that is what matters, right?

I quit my job at ICT/Sprint on Friday. It was a wonderful day. I had originally planned to work my Friday shift (six to two). Then on Thursday I decided I would leave at ten (lunchtime). Then Thursday evening I decided I just needed to quit. So I went in at six on Friday and did just that. I had given them about a week-and-a-half notice, so it was all right. It would have been all right even if I had not given notice, as it was an at-will position.

I am working for Albertsons now, in the service deli. I am at the south hill location (on thirty-seventh and Grand, if you wanted particulars. or even if you did not.) which is a bit of a commute. Also it does not pay as much, and I will probably not have as many hours, but these things are worth being done with Sprint forever. I had my "training-which-is-really-an-introduction-to-the-company" day on Saturday, and I have my "training-which-is-really-listening-to-a-computer-tell-me-how-to-be-safe-with-meat-cutters" day tomorrow. And then my first shift is on Wednesday. I am optimistic about this job. I will no longer be sitting at a computer for eight hours a day, which will be nice. I will be moving around, with a variety of tasks. And while it is still sales to some degree (though with much more customer service mixed in there), at least it will be a product I believe in. After all - people need food more than they need cell phones. And Albertsons has long been my favorite store; I especially loved it through college.

So yes. Excitement, there. I had hoped that I would be able to take the bus and thus save on travel expenses, but I will be working evenings and it would be too much of a hassle to get back after my shift ends - over an hour and a half (whereas driving takes about thirty minutes), on three different buses, one of which (ninety) is fairly sketchy after dark. Oh well, though.

I hope that I am still happy about the job after this week is over.
I also hope that I get awarded work study so that I can get a job at the campus library through the next two years. (Can you believe I actually miss working in a library? I find it difficult to do so, but perhaps you would have anticipated it.)

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Spring, here

2009-05-13T19:23:00.000-07:00

Two things about spring in the inland northwest.

One thing that I missed very much in California: clouds. We have lovely clouds in the spring. They make the semi-cold often-rainy passive-aggressive weather fairly worth the frustration of never knowing how to dress.

One thing I did not miss at all in California: fish trees. We have these horrid trees. They are pretty, with nice, white flowers. Nice, white flowers that smell like rotting fish. These trees are everywhere, and they bloom for about a month. Wretched.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Small things that make me happy in a somewhat depressing existance

2009-04-18T13:28:00.000-07:00

1. Light on the river as the sun is just rising on my way to work
2. Being cut off in traffic only to discover that said vehicle has the next license plate number for which I had been looking (one-hundred-five)
3. Hummus
4. Small children lighting candles in church, especially those who are just barely tall enough to reach, and so insist on doing it all on their own without assistance
5. The space heater in my room

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Not sure when that changed.

2009-04-06T11:24:00.000-07:00

So I just checked BUBBS. Not generally something to report. Except that this was the first time since...mid-February. I never imagined that I would stop checking it. I used to be dependent on it. At the peak, I checked about one-hundred and twenty folders on a regular basis. As in, more than once a day. Not all these folders had posts every day, but I checked them. And read them. And posted in them. Even through my senior year and for a few months after graduation, I checked the folders I was still reading (probably down to about thirty or forty - all the THI folders, and some others throughout the Conferences) at least daily. I even came to Torrientation in August and gave a BUBBS talk to the new freshmen, because it still mattered to me. When did I stop caring? I have no idea. Today, I went into my mailbox, and it was all Meridius notices, and an accidental email from a former professor (she sent information to the wrong mailing list, then sent another message apologizing). I glanced through THI Chatter, Newman Chatter, and Lewis Chatter. I read through the major thread in Alumni Chatter. And then I left. Because I do not care anymore. BUBBS used to be so very important, and now I can not remember for the life of me why. I will probably try to remember to check more often, particularly for the Alumni Chatter folder, but the rest just does not seem to matter much.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

One Hundred

2009-03-21T19:53:00.000-07:00

If you thought that the title reflected that this was my hundredth post on this blog, you were mistaken. This is my fifty-eighth post on this blog. The hundred is is in reference to a game that I play. It is called, like so many others, the license plate game. It consists of looking at license plates, and counting up from zero-zero-zero to nine-nine-nine. California license plates are #LLL###; Washington plates are ### - LLL; Idaho plates have no recognizable pattern to them. This game was stolen from one Timofy Carroll (and I have no idea if he kept going after the few times that he mentioned it on his old blog - his last post about it was on April seventh of two-thousand seven). I began playing right after Timofy's first post about it, on July twenty-first of two-thousand six, and today saw one-zero-zero. It was quite happy.

It will get very frustrating for a while, when I can not find a number for a long time, but then when I do it is so very exciting. Also, some numbers that I see which are already past have associations in my memory with images or events or people, since I have a very associative memory. Zero-five-zero (fifty) I associate with Biola facilities, because one of their vans has that number. I remember particularly because I was looking for zero-four-nine for perhaps two or three months, and it drove me toward insanity because I would see the van on campus nearly every day. Of course, once I did find forty-nine, I was able to move onto fifty-one rather quickly. Zero-zero-seven makes me think of Lindsey, because she was riding with me when I saw it, and she got excited as well because her youngest brother also plays the game (though he goes backward, beginning at nine-nine-nine). This is one of several things I do that border on obsessive, but I do not think that that is necessarily bad.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Itsy-Bitsy Pieces of My Life

2009-03-02T23:13:00.000-08:00

Esmeralda is shedding, which always frightens me a bit. I have a rough spot on my neck from scratching it while I had a cold last week, and wondered this morning if I were due to shed, as well. When I was at the optometrist's office today, there was a girl in the waiting room named Esmeralda, and it startled me when they called her. I jerked my head up, and ended up making very awkward eye-contact with her for a few seconds. This was the first time in my life, in all my many years of eye exams, that the assistant was able to perform the glaucoma test on the first try. I hate that test. The blue light coming toward my eye and pressing against it, even though the drops numb the nerve endings so I can not feel it, terrifies me. I was quite pleased with myself for making it through this time. Being there made me keep thinking about Blindness, which I finished reading last week. An excellent book, perhaps the best I have read in a long time. I was fascinated by the author's use of punctuation, which did as much for the pace of the book as the plot itself did. I miss reading a lot. I used to read several books per week, and now it takes me a week to read one. But I am trying to continue reading new books, rather than becoming one who only reads books she has read before. My other new book that I finished recently was If on a Winter's Night a Traveler, which I liked decidedly less. But it seemed to me that part of the author's intent was that the reader should feel the unease I felt at it, so that was somewhat consoling. Next is The Master and Margarita, which my sister has wanted me to read for several years. I had no time or energy to do so during school, but I plan to pick it up starting tomorrow. The trouble I find with reading a lot is, of course, that which so many discover they have. That is, I do not lack time, but I do not feel like reading during that time which I have. I am working eight hours a day, and while I am not working I would like to be mindless. Television is more attractive for that reason, although I dislike television in general. I do not want to lose that mind which was cultivated so carefully over the past four years. My job is horrid at times. We are still in training, having just entered the second week. The hours are awful, and it is a noxious environment to be in. But I have hope that things will improve after training is through, when I am actually in a small, colorless box answering and selling phones. Hard to imagine that that would be a step up, is it not? My soul aches, here. I had thought that I was doing so well, finally getting used to being here again, but tonight after work, my soul started hurting for California again. For my friends, for the places and people I love so much. Oh, how I dislike change, when it is change away from what is good. But I can see ahead. This is not the end. This horrid position is a means to an end, and I will not be there forever. All my applications to graduate school are in, and now I have only to wait. Some say that is the hardest part, but I think it is much easier than agonizing over essays. It is out of my hands; there is a certain ease that comes from that, a sigh of relief. I hope to get into Fullerton. I hope to move back, to finally live with Adria, to study and relax with friends once more. I have few friends here. I hope when I return I will still have many friends there. I am so awful at staying in touch, I fear I may be losing people. My main problem is that I never know what to say. So I say nothing, and they do the same, and we fall away in our respective silences. The underlying issue here is that it is not the conversation that I miss, but the silent presence. I miss most those with whom I can sit quietly, or walk quietly. I miss those with whom there is that quiet understanding that silence is okay, and the silence of not being in contact is so very different than the silence of two people sitting and reading, knowing that the other is there if something does need to be said. I miss that so very much. That is all I can write for now, not because there are no other small pieces of my life I can think of about which to write, but rather because that last bit can not very well lead into any of them.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Post-Script Edit: In re-reading this, I realized the ambiguity of one of my sentences. In the sentence I miss reading a lot, a lot should not be taken as the amount that I miss, (eg, reading. I miss it a lot) but the amount of reading I miss (eg, reading lots of books. I miss that).

JobJobJob (take two)

2009-02-19T21:06:00.001-08:00

Employment comes to me, yet again. Finally. I will begin working on Monday for ICT. I actually do not really know what I will be doing, specifically. That is, I know I will be answering phones in a call center, but beyond that I am not sure exactly what the job entails. However, the first three weeks are training (a long training, for merely answering phones!) so I am sure I will learn what to do before I actually begin the real job.

The hours of training are a bit horrid: two in the afternoon until ten at night, monday through friday. I have no idea why it is at that time. I like not having to get up at five, but being at work until ten? That is something I had hoped to leave behind me at the library. After the initial three weeks of training, though, I will get a different schedule, five days per week (either monday through friday or tuesday through saturday; I have requested the latter) with hours sometime between six in the morning and eight in the evening. (What is the limit between evening and night? I feel like five o'clock starts evening...and perhaps that nine or ten begins night. Though I have a tendency to say five in the afternoon, and ten in the evening, because in college sometimes midnight still feels like evening.)

It has full benefits (after ninety days), and pays rather well (considering that it is answering phones), so that is nice. Really, any money will be nice. Being able to pay my student loans off would be lovely, as would being able to continue to afford my telephone, and to buy a good heat lamp for Esmeralda's tank (it is too cold, here), and to save money up so that I can perhaps afford to attend grad school in the autumn.

I will, of course, update you when I find out more what exactly the job entails, and whether I will survive it without going insane. I certainly hope I will be able to. It would not be much use saving enough money for grad school if I went insane in the process, rendering myself unable to attend after all.

Blessings in your travels,
Emily.

Labeled

2009-01-29T12:03:00.000-08:00

Well, since I have done all I can for my Eastern and WSU applications, I went through and labeled all my posts. There are an awful lot of them, as you can see over on the right hand side if you scroll down. I think it is mostly helpful if a reader reads the post and says to himself, "self, what other things has Emily said about labels?" And then he can click on "labels" under labels at the bottom of the post and see for himself.

The lady at Eastern's grad office called me today to let me know that she received my transcripts today. She is wonderful and lovely. I am sure she is beautiful. Actually, in the image I have of her in my mind, she looks exactly like Marty, the math/comp-sci/comm.disorders secretary at Biola. Likely because she has a similar voice and shows a like care for a small person's troubles.

The person who answered the phone at WSU, however, sounded like a disinterested student employee who does not really know anything, or care that she does not know. Which is fine, I suppose. I have been there at times. But I do hope my transcripts got in there, as well. I am both terrified and hopeful, for various reasons, that I will not be accepted anywhere at all.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

Twenty-five

2009-01-24T23:45:00.000-08:00

There is another (I suppose one could call it a) chain letter going around facebook. The instructions are to write a note with twenty-five things about yourself in it, then to tag twenty-five of your friends. Those friends are then supposed to do the same.

I have a gut reaction against these sort of activities (I hate using the word thing. I have a reaction against these sort of things, and activities or any other word does not really express what I mean by that. grr), and I am not sure why. I never do them, on principle, but I realized lately that I have no idea what that principle is. There is not anything wrong with them. They are quick to do, and I have enjoyed reading the ones other people have written, but something keeps me from doing them myself. (is that a correct usage of myself? I get so paranoid about misusing that word that I end up never using it at all.)

This is a trend in my life not limited to facebook notes. I have never liked doing that which many other people are doing, even if there is nothing wrong with the activity. The earliest memory I have of this (though I am sure there are examples from earlier in my life that I do not remember) was in junior high when all the other girls were obsessed with makeup and boys. I never was, but not so much because I was not interested. I think it was more that I did not want to appear interested because everyone else was so very interested. I wanted to be different. I do not know how direct a correlation this has to the facebook notes, but it is surely related.

I am not opposed to telling people more about myself. I have a general policy that I will answer any question asked of me (within reason). As I read the notes that others have posted, I have thought of many more than twenty-five things that I could write/tell. But I still cringe at the thought of following this trend, becoming just another person who does the same note as everyone else. Part of me very much wants to write one, but part of me screams and recoils in horror, and I honestly do not know why.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

My Wretched Day

2009-01-23T21:45:00.000-08:00

It started out not so badly, you see. Got up, showered, dressed, had breakfast, made tea. Realized that my interview was in twenty minutes and that it takes ten to drive there, and so did not get to drink my tea. The first bad thing of the day.

The interview was not horrid, but I was nervous. Also, the ladies interviewing me were very casual, which was a bit off-putting for me. That is, I was not entirely sure how to interact with them, because it was very different from the atmosphere one usually encounters in an interview. So that made me more nervous. They said they would be making the decision today, and that I would hear back by five.

I came back to the house, and called EWU to check on whether they had received my transcripts yet. I had faxed Biola with my transcript request ten days ago for EWU, WSU and CSUF, and none had received them yet. Eastern confirmed that they still did not have it. The lady I spoke with was so lovely and nice, she made me feel as though everything in the world would be all right.

So then I called the Biola Registrar. They did not answer their phones. I called again and again, finally left a message, and then continued to call about every ten minutes. Finally they answered. I asked whether my transcripts from my request on the twelfth had been sent. They are very far behind, so nothing on my account has been entered into the computer. She leaves me on a soundless hold for about ten minutes while she (supposedly) rummages through papers. I had to check my phone about once every two minutes to make sure that I was still connected. Could they not at least have had some horrid music or something? No, just dead silence. Anyway, she came back, finally. (I realize I am switching back and forth between past and present tense, but I really do not care at this point.)

"Emily? Your transcripts to San Diego State got sent on the seventh." I know that. Ye gods, did you not listen to me at all? "No, the request I sent on the twelfth." ... ... "We never received any other transcript requests from you. Are you sure you sent them?"

At this point I started crying. I am so frustrated with life and already emotionally unstable this week from having to come back to Washington, and from being worried about my interview from that morning. Yes, I sent them. Yes, they went through. So essentially, they lost them, but refuse to take responsibility for it. Now, my EWU and WSU applications are due on the first of February. I had my requests turned in in plenty of time, but now they make me re-fax my requests, and I have to rush-order them, which costs ten extra dollars per transcript. Forty extra dollars, just because the stupid Registrar people lost my paperwork. I know that I am not the only person to whom this has happened. My mom drives me, sobbing, to her work to re-fax.

I do not have the money for this. My credit card is nearly maxed out, my savings account is dwindling, I have loan payments due on the first, and a phone bill coming up, and other stupid expenses. Stupid Biola, I can not wait until I am no longer dependant upon you.

I finally manage to calm down. But then five o'clock comes and goes, and I still have not heard from the credit union about the job. So I stress until seven-oh-five when my phone rings. I am sure you have guessed by now that I did not get the job. And if so, then you guessed correctly. I really wanted it, too. So that sucks. Anyway, anything more I would say here would just be whining, and I do not like doing that. So I will close.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

Addition

2009-01-12T17:41:00.001-08:00

I had another thought while planning that last post, which I forgot as I was caught up writing about whack-a-mole. My other thought which I had planned to type out follows.

Four syllable words, especially food names, always fit into my head as "the San Francisco treat." This is true of not only rice-a-roni (the actual San Francisco treat), but also of guacamole, Oklahoma, cherry Pepsi, alligator, and other such words. Make of that what you will.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

NomNomNom

2009-01-11T13:15:00.000-08:00

I made guacamole today.

If you right-click on the picture, and select 'open link in new tab', it will come up very large, and looks like...I am not sure. Some image of a horrid disease from a medical textbook.

It is a funny word, guacamole. I feel like it should be a near homophone of the old arcade game, whack-a-mole. "Gwack-a-mole!" Silly English, trying to assimilate Spanish words. Anyway. Guacamole is yummy. Nom, nom, nom. And it is also very easy to make, and very flexible in the making. I searched on google for how to make it (that is an awkwardly-worded sentence), and there were many options for the recipe. I scanned several, and then made up my own based on what we had. Avocados (obviously), a Roma tomato, a very small portion of a red onion (perhaps about a quarter of a cup, after being chopped), some sweetened lime juice (thanks to my sister and brother-in-law), and a small bit of salt and pepper.

I hope that it tastes better than it looks, because honestly, it looks fairly disgusting.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

An Amusing Facebook Status

2009-01-09T22:27:00.001-08:00

(name) has erased the fine line between genius and insanity, and replaced it with a small trout.

I am not sure why, but this really caught my fancy.
I inquired to the poster as to whether having a small trout placed one in the former or latter category, but she denies knowledge regarding that, claiming that small trouts add ambiguity.
Fish usually do, you know.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

Trouble

2009-01-08T13:17:00.000-08:00

Trouble, oh trouble set me free.
I have seen your face, and it's too much, too much for me.
Trouble, oh trouble can't you see
You're eating my heart away and there's nothing much left of me

I've drunk your wine, you have made your world mine,
So won't you be fair? Oh won't you be fair?
I don't want no more of you, so won't you be kind to me?
Just let me go where, I'll have to go there -

Trouble, oh trouble move away.
I have seen your face and it's too much for me today.
Trouble, oh trouble can't you see?
You have made me a wreck, now won't you leave me in my misery?

I've seen your eyes, and I can see death's disguise
Hangin' on me, hangin' on me.
I'm beat, I'm torn, shattered, and tossed, and worn,
Too shocking to see, too shocking to see.

Trouble, oh trouble move from me.
I have paid my debt, now won't you leave me in my misery?
Trouble, oh trouble please be kind.
I don't want no fight, and I haven't got a lot of time.

(Yeah, okay, so I have not done the whole 'entire post of song lyrics' thing since I partially abandoned my xanga. But this is mine, and I can do what I want with it.)

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

Labels and Applications

2009-01-05T23:02:00.000-08:00

I admire people who use labels well on their blogs. I feel like since I often touch on topics several times over, I ought to use that function as well. I think that when I am done with my grad school applications (about a month from now), I am going to go back through my archive and apply labels to my posts.

I dislike grad school applications. They all require something to the effect of, "Write a three page essay telling us why you are so much more awesome and wonderful than the other hundreds of students applying here." This is not a good exercise for someone who thinks that she probably is not more awesome and wonderful than those hundreds, and that she probably should not be accepted to a graduate program anyway. Except for the fact that she desperately wants to go to grad school, wants so much to continue in her field that it hurts. I wish I could just take a snapshot of my soul, and give that to them instead. Perhaps then they would see, and understand, and allow me to come.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

Driving, Part Two

2009-01-04T16:59:00.000-08:00

Remember when I said that drivers from here would not survive in California? Well, I have realized lately that this probably goes both ways, at least at this time of year. Driving in the winter is difficult, and, amazingly, people around here seem to become better drivers in inclement weather. (Whereas in California people freeze up when it starts raining.) For one thing, lines on the roads denoting lanes become meaningless in heavy snow. A road that is, in the summertime, two lanes each way with a center-turn lane becomes a road with one lane each way. Through the tire tracks, you can sometimes see a white dotted line, or a yellow line. But you simply have to follow along where the newly defined lane is. Sometimes this road will turn back into two lanes, only to have the right lane end abruptly in a bank left by the latest snow plow. You need to be on your toes to drive, around here.

Side roads are awful during the winter. They get plowed, but last. By the time they are plowed, the snow has often already been compacted quite a bit. I am not really certain how it happens, but after the plow comes through, the road ends up getting very bumpy. A combination of factors, I suppose, including traffic, plow, and weather. But driving on this type of road is tricky. The best way to do it is to not try to steer at all - idle along, not really even holding the wheel. Oh, of course, you have to have a hand on it, in case of emergency, but you can not do too much in the way of steering anyway. It is somewhat fun, once you get the hang of it. But I would be willing to bet that most Southern Californians would rather walk than try to navigate our roads right now.

In other news, gas is down to about one forty-five.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

Starfruit and Pomegranates

2008-12-25T19:55:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas, all!
Christ is born - Glorify Him!

As was anticipated, it was an extremely white Christmas here. So very white. A very good day, overall.

Many children, I am given to understand, receive fruit in their stockings on Christmas morning. An orange or a grapefruit is probably usual, given the season. Growing up, I always got a starfruit, and my sister always got a pomegranate. It was wonderful and special, and I always looked forward to it. These fruits only came at Christmastime.

My sophomore year of college, during the spring semester, I had a revelation regarding this. One day, the cafeteria had two large platters piled with sliced starfruit. I was excited, and loaded up a plate with them. But something I could not quite put my finger on was gnawing at the back of my mind, bothering me about the occurrence. As I was eating, trying to convince my friends, none of whom had ever had a starfruit, to try it, it hit me.

I realized that I had this belief of sorts in the back of my mind that starfruit and pomegranates grew at the north pole. Now, this is not to say that I still believed this. But I think it was one of those childhood beliefs that is fairly minor, so it never really gets disproved or actively disbelieved, but rather is just put away in the back of one's mind until such a moment as I had. Thinking about it, it does seem a reasonable explanation for a small child, to explain why those very special fruits only came at Christmas. Of course - Santa grows them!

I do not know if I came to this conclusion by myself, or if I was told it. I asked my mom about it and she says she does not remember saying anything like that. My inclination is that my sister convinced me of it at some point, because it seems like the sort of thing she would have told me. (Do you remember anything like this, dear sister?)

So, this Christmas as I pulled a pomegranate out of my stocking (sadly, no starfruit for me this year), I wondered if anyone else had a similar story, of a minor childhood belief, inconsequential to most of life, that was realized years later. If so, please share!

Wishing everyone a most glorious Nativity feast.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

One Day of Freedom

2008-12-22T09:40:00.000-08:00

I got out yesterday, after being house-bound since Wednesday. I actually had not left the house since Monday, simply because I did not have any reason to go out on Tuesday, and I had no reason to suspect I would not be able to leave after then. It took a lot of work to be able to leave. You see, my house is situated at the end of a one block road, off of the main road, that comes to a T at our driveway. (See diagram. It is not to scale. Sorry about that.) So any traffic that had barreled through the massive amounts of snow down the road either turned left or right, pushing even more snow toward our driveway and not giving us any help on getting cleared out. And even if we could leave the driveway, our cars were too low to the ground to make it out in the tracks that had been put in the road, because they were all made by trucks, which have higher centers than our cars, so we would have gotten stuck anyway. Make sense? Following so far? Good.

So, on Saturday, three neighbours got out their snow-blowers and snow... -blowed? -blew? a lane clear down the one block road. They did not clear out the front of our driveway, but at least now if we got out of the driveway, we would be able to get out to the main road. So Dad worked really really hard Saturday night, and I was able to leave on Sunday. I went to church, and had a five hour shift at work. It was very very nice to get out of the house.

But then last night, the stupid plow people came along and ruined everything. You see, they plowed our road. We had it fine! It was accessible, people were getting in and out; it was hard, but doable. But then the plows came. And where do you think all the snow from that one block in from the main road ended up? If you thought "why, the magical snow faeries must have magicked it away!" than you thought incorrectly. It ended up right in front of our driveway. There is now a barrier about four feet high and five feet wide blocking us in. We have it much worse than the neighbours, being right at the T of the road. From what I could see, they have maybe a foot high, two or three feet wide. Stupid plow people. And it is snowing again, lots and lots. We have gotten perhaps nine or ten more inches.

I have another shift at work tomorrow, and I hope I will be able to get out for it. And I have Christmas presents to mail, which will be rather late. I do not know that that is so bad, though, since it extends Christmas for people. I have always enjoyed late gifts; I have an aunt who was usually two or three weeks late on birthdays. But I also have to mail out two books that were bought from me on half.com, and I am supposed to mail them within a week of their being ordered. I will likely email the buyers and apologize profusely for being snowed in and unable to get to the post office. Mostly I am just worried about making it to work. I really need the hours, and the money that comes from them. On the plus side, snow is very beautiful. Here are some more pictures that I took before this latest storm:

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

Snow, Snow, Beautiful Snow

2008-12-18T08:25:00.000-08:00

It has not stopped snowing in over a day.

Last night we set a record for most snow in a twenty-four hour period.

When I woke up this morning, there were over twenty inches on the ground.

Here are some pictures. They are not very good, because they are from inside my house, but later I will go out and take some better ones and post them.

The SUV parked across the road.

The fir tree in my backyard.
And part of my backyard.
You can see, down at the bottom, a bit of the walk.
My dad has shoveled three times this morning, starting at three o'clock am.

Our dogwood tree in the backyard.
And the itty-bitty baby maple tree, off to the right there.
And most of the rest of the backyard.

I do love snow.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

I wish I could write like this.

2008-12-16T15:10:00.000-08:00

Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things--trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's the funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we're leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that's small loss if the world's as dull a place as you say.

It is passages like this that make me so glad to be a part of Lewis group.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

Discipline and Procrastination

2008-12-15T13:33:00.000-08:00

I tend to be one of those people who put off a ten-minute task for days or weeks at a time. For example, I finally just updated my blogroll list on the right side of my page. Silly and small, perhaps, but something that I thought about doing every day, but always put off. Other things are not so silly or small. I have no discipline in my life, and I need it desperately. Even college did not provide enough structure for me. I need maximum structure in order to really be productive. High school was good for me in that way - nevermind that those providing the structure did not really teach me anything. Two separate issues, there.

Other things that fall into this problematic category:
- cleaning my room
- applying for jobs
- applying for grad schools
- prayer
- reading
- eating (sometimes. like now, for example. I am hungry, it is nearly two hours past lunch-time, but I do not feel like putting in the effort of fixing and eating lunch)
- blogging and/or journaling
- staying in touch with friends
- shopping for Christmas presents (two actually valid reasons for putting this off are my lack of money and my dislike for shopping)
- buying a mouse for Esmeralda to eat
- filling Esmeralda's water dish
- responding to emails
- figuring out student loan stuff

Pretty much everything I ought to be doing in my life, when I look at it all typed out there. Tragic.

So, what am I actually doing with my life, then?! Not much. Sitting around thinking how I ought to do things. Playing solitaire and/or minesweeper. Reading through archives of comics. What a sad, sad existence.

Every once in a while I do actually get something done. I applied for four jobs this morning, and now I am updating my blog. And I do plan on eating sometime today...sigh. I really need to get my act together. But I do not know how to start having discipline in my life. With no definite deadlines, I lose my motivation. With no bells and schedules and teachers, I have nothing to keep me on track. I have an agenda that I try to use, but it requires internal motivation. As I mentioned, that is lacking. Blah. Off to find lunch.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

I...do not understand.

2008-12-12T09:58:00.000-08:00

So, I continue to torture myself by reading the housing classifieds folder on BUBBS (for those non-school folk, that is our email/message board system). And, because old habits die hard, instead of having the housing folder on my desktop, I have the general classifieds folder (even though I do not really read that one anymore). Today as I was passing through there, there was a post titled "adorable mouse." I was curious, mostly because I have never really viewed rodents as being worthy of adoration. So I opened it, and was greeted by this this text:

I have a beautiful Albino mouse that needs a home. I'm looking for someone who is loving and gentle and prefers calm electronic music, that is what my mouse is used to. Also, I will only sell the mouse with the condition that you promise to keep it's birth name "The Dog". She is really quite sweet and well behaved and loves it when you open doors for her so if you are interested in purchasing The Dog please contact me. She has alot of personal and emotional importance to me and she is so well trained so I am charging $45 or the highest offer. Please don't argue over her with your friends if many of you want her, she's a one man mouse and so you will have to figure it out via a gentleman's dual, that is how The Dog would prefer it.

Um...what? I have read this over several times, and honestly can not figure out if this person is being serious or not. BUBBS does not always allow for sarcasm to come across very well. My inclination is that it is a joke...but what if it is not? Would someone actually pay forty-five dollars for a mouse? A white mouse? You can buy a white mouse at PetSmart for about two dollars. I should know. I do so once a week. To feed to my snake. Goodness. I hope this is not serious.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

Quick Update Time!

2008-12-04T11:44:00.000-08:00

Well, I survived (and even enjoyed) Thanksgiving.
And I survived the day after, opening at Bath & Body Works. I nearly enjoyed it, but it was insane and crazy. I now know that I can manage working retail, but it is certainly not what I want to do for the rest of my life.

I finally got all caught up on Alien Dice, which is happy. One down, twelve to go. Plus, you know, various videos/tv shows I'm supposed to be catching up on. Three of those, I think?
I changed my desktop background on my computer for the first time in two years. Does this mean I am starting to move on and heal? I hope so. Besides, Swiftpaw is just so cute!

My room is still a mess, and while it bothers me, I can not seem to find the energy to clean it up and get more organized.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

3. Recycling

2008-11-24T12:36:00.001-08:00

This subject, like several others in my list, is somewhat obsolete in my life right now. But I may as well write about it, because it is something I thought about a lot over the past year or so. In California, they give you money for recycling. The way the system is supposed to work is that they charge you an extra five cents when you buy a bottle or can (water, soda, &c.) (or ten cents, for larger containers), and then reimburse you this money when you turn the bottle or can in for recycling. However, most people do not bother to turn in their recyclables. The thought process seems to be something like, "oh, it is only five cents. it does not matter that much." But, you see, five times twenty is one hundred (one dollar). And there is a lot you can buy with a dollar. And if you do not spend that dollar, but save it, and get more dollars, you can buy bigger things. Like gas. Or rent. Or a trip to Russia.

I started collecting recycling from the garbage cans around campus last October, in an effort to make money to help me go on the Russia trip. It did not fully pay for it by any means, but I ended up getting about two hundred dollars from it. That is a lot of money, pulled out of garbage cans a nickel at a time. I wish I had kept better track of how much I collected. I continued my collections this summer, to off-set the price of gas, and to be able to buy food, and so forth. Usually I would only collect from the library. I know where every garbage can is in that building. I know what route to take to maximize the efficiency of my time. I kept my receipts for a bit in October, once I decided to write about this. Between the third and the thirteenth, I collected $42.47. (They go by weight, now, rather than exact count, which is why the number is not divisible by five.) That is a little over four dollars a night, from the library alone. My rounds took me about half an hour, so I was making about minimum wage for this. Not too shabby.

I got quite a few weird looks from people, especially when I started. After a while people got used to my coming around in the evening. A few people would even save their bottles out on their table for me, instead of throwing them in the trash cans. Those people made me happy. Some people laughed at me when they thought I could not see/hear (from within the study rooms). Those people made me sad and insecure - but not enough to give up. Once I encountered two people in a room (yes, I was shameless enough to collect from the study rooms while people were in them. most were very kind. no one ever complained, even if they thought I was strange.) who were very excited about what I was doing. The girl exclaimed, "Oh! I am so happy you are doing that! I was looking at the cans in the trash and thinking how sad it was that no one was doing anything about it, and then here you came!" And then the boy made up a song about how happy they were. It pretty much made my night.

Fun times, overall.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

{Insert Witty Title Here}

2008-11-23T22:56:00.000-08:00

I wandered around Wal-Mart for about an hour tonight. I needed to get out of the house, and everything in town was closed, except for Denny's and Wal-Mart. And it is cheaper to wander Wal-Mart than sit around at Denny's. And more distracting, which was good.

On the front of the store, the lights in the 'M' were out, so it said Wal-art. This amused me.

They already have a giant Christmas decoration section. This makes me sad. I do not like the over commercialization of Christmas, nor do I like how overlooked Thanksgiving is. Thanksgiving was always my favourite holiday growing up. Mostly because I like autumn, but also because gatherings tended to not be as big then as at Christmas and Easter. I am an introvert, and my parents never allowed me to be reclusive when family was over. Santa was in the mall, today. I think the commercialization has made me cynical about Christmas, which I also do not like.

The craft section of Wal-Mart is my favourite. I do not particularly like crafting (I have boxes filled with projects begun and never finished), but I love craft supplies. Especially paper. Paper fascinates me, as does cloth. So much beauty (for only a small price). I also like parenthesis (and those are free).

I bought a pack of Mike-n-Ikes (Mike & Ikes?). I was interested by the man at the checkstand. I think his name was James. It started with a 'J,' anyway. He was an older gentleman, and seemed nice. He had a fairly thick country accent (different from, though similar to, a southern accent), quite the drawl. The type of accent that makes people think that a person is uneducated - a silly assumption, in my opinion, but a common one nonetheless. I wondered if James was happy with his life. Is he content to work the night-shift at the checkstand in Wal-Mart? How would I feel, in that position? I think that there was probably a point in my life where I could have taken that route, and have been perfectly happy. I am not sure when, though. I could not do it, now, and be happy. I think too much, now. I wonder if James is happy. The world needs those people. If the world were only full of philosophers, we would never be able to get anything done. What separates me from James? Is it just an education (assuming a lack of one on his part. actually, I am using him as a symbol now, less as a person. forgive me, James. I wish I knew your story.)? Or is there something inherent in a person that sets them apart for their particular path in life?

It is cold here. I had frost on my car this morning, it had to warm up about fifteen minutes before the windows were clear enough to drive. I need to remember that on Thursday night, and plan accordingly for the morning - I start work at five.forty-five on Friday. I am nervous about that - my first experience in retail is opening on the day after Thanksgiving. I am sure I will get trampled, small as I am. Perhaps I will wear heels, give myself a couple of extra inches.

I went to the grocery store with my mom tonight after dinner. The checker there was nice, as well. Mom thinks it was because of me. She says they are never that friendly when it is just her. I wonder if he was flirting. I wonder if I flirted back. I never can tell (Emily:flirting :: Winnie-Ther-Pooh:bees). Harmless, I suppose, when it is a person I will likely never see again. But what happens when I inadvertently flirt with a new acquaintence? What if it is mutual flirting and I do not even realize it? I certainly do not have time or emotional energy for something like that. Goodness, I do not even have emotional energy to worry about something like that. My mom bought me a pomegranite at the store, which was lovely.

My mind is random, and I am essentially typing my train of thought right now. I find it vastly amusing. Usually I think things through before typing, and go back and edit. But not tonight. Tonight you get something that is somewhat akin to what you would get if I handwrote you a letter. Or what you have gotten if I have done so. A glimpse of the workings of my mind, I suppose.

I am tired, but not sleepy. I have been having trouble sleeping lately. I am stressed about several things which I will not detail here. Perhaps I should go to bed. I have been reading a lot - rereading good fiction books, always fun. I am cold. Autumn is gone, now. The leaves are off the trees and it is frosting at night (but I already mentioned that, I suppose). I miss warmth. Not really, but in my mind I do. I do love winter, but to make the jump rather than easing into it does make a difference. I have a space-heater in my room, though, which helps quite a bit. I have also been playing a lot of solitaire - a good mind-numbing activity. I miss California.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Please not Haley, Please not Haley...

2008-11-21T13:23:00.001-08:00

Ok, so I know that it is not totally healthy to get as emotionally attached as I do to characters in a webcomic. But Order of the Stick has a very special place in my heart, and I am very emotionally attached to the characters. Especially Haley. And the author is really good. And today's update...terrified me (the first one. it seems that there were two today...). On the other hand, the second update is excellent (and continuing in the terrifying category as well). I love Belkar. Not as much as I love Haley, and in a different way. But he is excellent. The author seems to be on a rampage today, as in his other comic (Erfworld), I think the main character just burst into dust? I am not really sure what happened, though, and I am not nearly as attached to him as to Haley.

I like webcomics. I follow too many already, and I have more of which I am currently reading through the archives. I do not add them to my 'others of interest' list until I am caught up on them. I made a list to keep track of what I am/ought to be reading, and I think there are seven or eight that will eventually be added to that list. And by the time those are added, there will likely be more to add.

My latest is Alien Dice. It is wonderful. Yay for that.

I do not think I could even choose a favourite among them. There are certainly ones that I like more than others, but within the group that I like more, I could not pick an absolute favourite, or order them in any way. They are all so good! Oh well. I guess I do not have to pick a favourite. It is just that I like order so much, I feel as though I ought to. Lists are happy. But not as happy as Girl Genius.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

Gas for $1.88? Yespleasethankyou.

2008-11-19T13:26:00.000-08:00

Last night Stacey asked me what the most positive thing about being in Washington is. Besides the fact that here my world is not being consumed by fire, the lower gas prices are a wonderful thing. One eighty-eight is the lowest that I have seen, it ranges between that and one ninety-nine. So yes. That is nice.

Driving here is fairly miserable, though. I am used to arterial roads having a speed limit of around forty-five. Here, on roads that look nearly the same as those faster ones (two lanes each direction, but with a middle turn-lane rather than a median), one is not allowed to go faster than thirty-five miles per hour. I am not sure how strictly this is enforced, but people follow it. On Evergreen, the road off of which my house is located, people like to go thirty, or sometimes twenty-five. It is horrid. The freeway is not much better. Through the city, the speed limit is sixty. And if you are going sixty, you should probably be in the left lane. The middle lane goes about fifty-seven, and the right lane goes about fifty-five. These people would die in California - not so much from accidents, but from fright at the cars going seventy-five or eighty.

This is taking adjustment. But at least the gas is cheaper.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

Yesterday

2008-11-17T11:14:00.000-08:00

I got horribly homesick yesterday, right after church. There was the annual parish meeting, and I stayed for about half of it. And during Fr. Michael's talk, he mentioned that this weekend, at the baptism in Wenatchee, he met a couple from St. Barnabas in Costa Mesa, and then proceeded to hold that church up as a good example for us, mentioning that they generally receive about thirty new members every year at Pascha. And I broke down (quietly). Because, for one thing, two of my dear friends, Sara and Jimmy, were fewer than two-hundred miles away from me and I could have been there and I missed the chance. (edit: as it turns out, this Sara and James were not the Sara and James that I know. odd.) And for the other thing, it just made me homesick. I know about half of the people who were baptized last year at St. Barnabas. I probably know about half of the group that will be baptized there this year. These are my friends - my dear friends - and I miss them. It was awfully hard for me. It is especially difficult at church, even though they have all become a wonderful family for me, because people can not seem to comprehend that I didn't want to leave California, that I want to go back. Comments like, "great job making it out alive!" make me want to cry. But I do not want to cry, not there, for that.

I also worry, because part of me is terrified of getting too attached. I do not like being torn between places. I am scared to make friends here, because I hate leaving friends. I know that that is not right, that it is not healthy, but that is my gut reaction. I miss my friends and my life so much, I just want to go back - even with all the horror that has been happening in the area with the fires as of late.

Then, last night, my best friend came over. I can not praise Glennda enough. She has truly been the best friend someone could ask for, especially in supporting me through all of my conflicts and confusion over the past year. She is being especially patient with me right now. I apologized profusely last night, through my tears. She is so glad to have me back here, and all I do when we are together is vent about how homesick I am. Poor dear. She is so good to me. I do not deserve her, but I am glad I have her. She just smiled, and reminded me how many times I sat and listened as she poured out her own heart in mourning.

Then after I pulled myself together I started trying to convince her to move to LA with me. As always. I will not understand how someone would move to Russia in a heartbeat, but would not even visit California when her best friend lived there. Not that I do not understand the wanting to move to Russia part, just the not even wanting to ever set foot in California part. But, as I explained to her, it would be much easier for me to move her down to LA than for me to move my whole life from down there to up here. She mentioned how then she would be in essentially the same position that I am in now, except worse, because no family there. Which is true, but I pressed on: "You'd get along great with my friends. I have excellent taste in friends." At which point we both collapsed laughing, and I wrote down what I had said in order to post it later. It is a conversation we have had many times, too many to count. She will not move to California, and I will continue to try to convince her to do so. I am so glad for the times that I have with her.

Then we kept talking as I sorted through some boxes of old things, from high school and before. I found my collection of her letters, from summers she spent in Oregon and I at camp, and read them aloud to her. Then I found some pages ripped out of an old journal, from my sophomore year, and read some of the entries to her. Highlights: "Glennda is my best friend in the whole world. I can tell her almost anything." Then, from a later one, "Confession - I am totally and completely in love with [name]. No one knows. Not even Glennda." We laughed so hard over that. Apparently that was where the 'almost anything' came up. She was confused: "Really? I didn't know?" I am pretty sure she did not, until after I was over it. Or if she did, she never said anything, because she is just an awesome friend like that. It was good to laugh with her, and remember.

My day ended much better than it began. But I am still sad. Sometimes I dislike the complicated emotions that come from being human. Why can't I just only be sad about being away, or only be happy to spend time with my best friend? Well, that is likely enough for now. I have survived three weeks.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

2. Gatorade

2008-11-13T13:55:00.000-08:00

I have decided to start writing intermittently on those topics listed below. I am starting with Gatorade, because it is easy and unemotional. Mostly amusing observations. Right now, I am on my laptop in a lovely little cafe with free wireless. I don't particularly like using my parents' computer. It is an old PC, with awkward keys and an old internet browser. I don't have administrative privileges, so I can not download any programs, and my dad won't...I think that he thinks it will slow the computer down more. Which may or may not be true. Anyway, it is always nice to be somewhere where I can use my own computer. This cafe is especially nice. There is a large television with Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade playing, which, while distracting, is rather fun. Good movie.

Anyway. Gatorade, yes? I never have cared much for the drink. But two things are on my mind about it. First is a series of commercials that was on television a while ago. I do not remember when...it may have been a few months, or a few years. Each commercial would have one or several athletes being athletic, and they would be...oozing neon liquids. It was strange. And then, at the end, it would say on the screen, "is it in you?" And all I could ever think was, "Oh goodness, I hope not."

The other thing was more recent. One day, when I was collecting recycling, I came across an energy drink can. This is not at all uncommon. In fact, it is tragically very common. I do not understand how people consume these things, really. There was often one half-full in a trash can, which I would have to dump out, and I simply can not imagine drinking something of that color. Anyway, this particular can had written on it, "By the makers of (Gatorade symbol)" If you don't know, the Gatorade symbol is an orange lightening bolt. So a normal person should have read it as "By the makers of Gatorade." But I, of course, read it as "By the makers of lightening." And then my associative mind jumped to Zeus, and the idea that he would make energy drinks, which suddenly made sense of them, considering all of games the gods always played with the mortals.
My mind? Random.

Blessings on your travels.
Emily

JobJobJob.

2008-11-12T16:46:00.000-08:00

That is to say, I got one.

I am now officially a "seasonal sales associate" at Bath and Body Works. Minimum wage, variable/non-guaranteed hours, but much better than nothing. It will keep me busy and out of the house, help me to start saving to move back to California, and give me time to look for something more permanent. Plus, a thirty-percent employee discount. So, um, family will be getting lotion for Christmas.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Grief

2008-11-06T19:22:00.000-08:00

Hello again. Thank you for your patience.

According to dictionary.com, my constant source of definitions, grief is keen mental suffering or distress over affliction or loss; sharp sorrow; painful regret. a cause or occasion of keen distress or sorrow. I wondered, because I have been thinking about grief a lot over the past week.

I wanted time away, to grieve, as I mentioned below. Last week was difficult in this, as my mom's boss was ill so she was home from work for the week. I did not really have any time alone. My parents want me to be happy, in the they are upset that I am not sort of way. And I want this situation to not be entirely miserable, so I do my best to not upset them. So I did my best through the week. I even went out one evening, by myself, which seemed to please them. After all, if I'm out at a ballet, I must be all right, right? (I saw the Moscow Ballet perform Sleeping Beauty, which was wonderful, despite the idiot behind me who seemed to think that one comes to a ballet for the plot and would not stop whispering about how there were too many dances. Idiot. And despite the music being recorded rather than live. And a few other annoyances. And my being alone.)

Anyway, I waited out the week, looking forward to this past Tuesday. I had decided that that would be the day where I could grieve, good and proper. I fully planned on lying on my bed in the dark, listening to angry music and crying a lot. I went out to the store Tuesday morning and got bread and cheese and ice-cream, because those are good and proper grieving foods. It did not last very long. As it turns out, you can not induce those sort of days, however much you think you need them. I have decided that my idea of grief is vastly Romanticized. I had this picture of what I ought to look like at this time, and wanted to fulfill that. Which, when you think about it, is rather silly. Of course, I am a rather silly person, so I suppose nothing different should have been expected.

I think that it is likely that that sort of thing will happen, eventually. The lying in bed all day, not wanting to move or do anything but cry. Just not yet. And I know that I need to allow that. I am grieving, still, although I am not staying in bed with my blinds shut and refusing all social interaction. I do cry, I do wish dearly to come back home, back to where my life is. I grieve that I have been torn away from the places and people I love. I grieve in the way that is natural for now, because foremost I need to survive, so that I can return.

Tuesday I ended up getting back up after about an hour, getting dressed, eating some bread and cheese, and then going for a drive. Driving is very therapeutic for me, especially on fairly empty, familiar roads. It was raining, which helped. I drove out to Camp Four Echoes, my Girl Scout camp, where I spent several weeks every summer for ten years, and many weekends in between. I love that place, and I love the drive. It has been driven so many times that it was all automatic. I needed that - the familiarity of something beloved, familiar enough that I did not even have to think about it, I could let my mind stay on my grief without having to worry about the road or traffic, just winding through the countryside.

So, for now, I am back online. I will be in touch, and write more frequently than I did when I was in California (since now I am not seeing my dear friends every day, so updates are more necessary). But do know that when the grief does hit harder, as I expect it will eventually, I may disappear again for a time.

I miss you all so very much.

Blessings on your travels,

Emily

Beginning of the Beginning

2008-10-27T18:58:00.000-07:00

I made it back to Spokane, managing neither to drive headlong into an oncoming truck, nor sneak off in the middle of the night to drive back south. I do not want to be here.

The end of one chapter? Yes, I suppose so. So that makes this the beginning of the next. But that does not mean that I have to like it.

I am going to take some time away from the computer. After some thought, I decided that I need time away to grieve. The past two weeks have been so filled with people and emotions - it was beyond draining for such an introvert as myself. So I need time. I will be back. My word on it. But for now, I am going to disappear for a bit.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Rambling

2008-10-16T20:39:00.000-07:00

As I was driving to campus tonight, Led Zeppelin's Ramble On came on the radio. The first ten lines particularly struck me:

Leaves are falling all around,

It's time I was on my way.

Thanks to you, I'm much obliged

For such a pleasant stay.

But now it's time for me to go,

The autumn moon lights my way.

For now I smell the rain,

And with it pain,

And it's headed my way.

Ah, sometimes I grow so tired...

Both my identified readers know that I am leaving, moving back to my parents' house. I am full of pain this autumn. The initial shock has worn off a bit, these few days, leaving me fairly numb as I tell the few people I hadn't yet talked to. But smaller things are hurting, as I think of them.

I won't be able to see the TTC play. I was really looking forward to it - to seeing one for the first time that I didn't already have memorized from a semester of involvement.

I will be missing the senior art show of a dear friend from my Torrey group.

I will be missing the dead kitty party at Christmastime, which is somewhat silly, but was something I had thought of happily when I made the decision to stay here for the year.

I just bought groceries, and now only have a week to eat them. What am I going to do with several packages of frozen vegetables?

Biola HR called me today. "We were wondering if you could come in for an interview." "Oh, for what position?" I asked, half-hopeful. "Oh, no, just an initial interview, the next step in the process." "Oh. Well...you see...*explains that I'm leaving, trying not to cry*" "Okay, we'll withdraw your application then. Thanks for letting us know! (*way too cheerfully*)" If only the HR department wasn't so horridly slow.

If onlys plague me. If only I had started applying to jobs sooner. If only I had applied to more places. If only I had one more month. If only I...I don't even know. I have a bad tendency to live in the past, and am trying hard to not do so right now. Several people have reminded me that I have not failed. This is not a step back, it is the next step forward on my journey. I'm in too much pain to really see and understand and believe that right now, but I know they are right. It feels like my life is over, but it isn't. I will live through it, and perhaps become stronger. Or perhaps it will break me, but I will not die of it.

I am tired of moving. Since graduation, I have moved from the apartment into storage, from storage into the crazy lady's house, from there into the house where I am now, and now will be moving from there. That is four times in five months. Too often. I thought that I would not have to move again after graduation, now that Biola isn't forcing me out of housing every few months. And, horror, I plan on moving again within the year, back down here as soon as I can. But I do not look forward to bundling up all my things yet again, forcing them into my car (the poor dear, she has been so patient with me these few years) and driving them 1500 miles away. And each of these (aside from the moving into storage) has come with change of address notifications for everyone who sends me things, closing and opening post office boxes, calling magazines, letting Biola know my forwarding address has changed yet again. I just got settled in and fully unpacked - it simply isn't fair that I have to move again. I get more weary just thinking about it.

And leaving is such tiring work, even before the packing begins. My agenda is filling up quickly with seeing people. Having all of my friends wanting to take me out to meals doesn't do much for getting those groceries consumed, however wonderful it is to be able to see people before I go. And seeing people is so bittersweet. I have never been good at goodbyes. I do not like change, and saying goodbye is so definite, even though I will be back. I said goodbye to the IT desk this morning. Stayed up too late baking cookies to take, and didn't have enough time to spend talking there. I want to hang on to every last moment, I don't want to walk away. I hate it terribly. The gentlemen there have been so dear to me for the past two years. It is like this for everything and everyone I have to say goodbye to...it is just that that was particularly hard for me today. Next Wednesday, Bible study/alum discussion group will be the same, although for that there will at least be cake. *half-hearted smile*

Well, I think I have rambled on enough tonight. I do still plan to write about the things in my list below, but for now, I have enough on my mind.

Blessings on your travels,

Emily

A list.

2008-10-12T22:39:00.000-07:00

So, apparently, Jane now reads my blog. (Hi Janegirl!)

And, apparently, this means that I ought to post more.

Which I suppose is legitimate, since as far as I know, she is the only person who does read my blog, due to the fact that NO ONE EVER COMMENTS. (bitter? me? what?)

Along with my having the problems with posting detailed in an earlier post, (goodness, was that already over a year ago?!) this week has been somewhat preventative on the posting front. Ever since Jane told me that I need to post more, I have been thinking of things to write about. I have come up with quite a list, as you will see. And it is not that I lack for time, not having a job and all. I simply have discovered why I have trouble writing. I have magnificent thoughts, ideas about which to write. And not magnificent ones as well - even quite plain ones at times. But I find it difficult to get them down on...computer screen. I have explained to a few of my friends this trouble I have, where I have what seems to be a full thought in my head, but once I attempt to put it into words, I can't seem to do so. This is even giving me trouble as I type right now! (I nearly put as we speak, but was prevented by the fact that neither of us are currently speaking. Well, you might have been, as I typed this, but I will probably never know.) So, anyway, actually writing things down that are swimming around in my (apparently liquidey) mind gives me trouble.

My other problem this week is that I seem to have lost my wit. I don't like writing without my wit, or even carrying on conversations. It is so dull (or perhaps terrifying?) to interact with people without a proper defense mechanism to retreat to. It has been a very long week, quite emotionally straining, and I just do not have the energy for wittiness at the moment.

You see the trouble I have with putting down thoughts? The title of this post is "A list." That would seem to imply that there will be a list here, but I have not even touched on it until just now, four paragraphs in. Goodness. Anyway, due to my two difficulties that seem especially aggravated this week, I have decided to give myself a to-do list. Or rather, a to-write-about-and-post list. Here is my list of things, deep and otherwise, I have considered blogging about over the past week:

Belonging
Gatorade
Recycling
Gmail/Facebook
Photography/Art
People in Oxford
List of things to write about (I suppose I can check that one off!)
Religion
Defense mechanisms
Coupons
Trust

So, I can not promise that I will get to all of these. Just know, dear Janegirl (and others?), that I do not write for a lack of topics, simply for a lack of...ability to write about them.

Yes.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Last night I dreamt of snow.

2008-10-04T09:15:00.000-07:00

Well, it was actually more this morning, as I was dozing after my alarm went off. I rarely have dreams, so it stuck in my head particularly. I dreamt that I woke up and looked out of the window and that it was snowing. There was already perhaps an inch on the ground, and it was coming down at a moderate pace. And it filled me with such happiness.

And then I woke up for real, and could tell even with my blinds closed that it was another ridiculously sunny day.

I miss seasons. California is silly.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Lately...

2008-09-30T19:13:00.000-07:00

The past few months have been rather crazy for me. I haven't really had time to write, although I often want to. This won't be an exhaustive post, but a quick update of my life. The semi-nannying job got more and more difficult as I came to the realization that my employer was insane. So this past Friday I moved back up toward the school. Now I am renting a room in a house from a nice couple, who seem to be sane so far - a plus in my books. However, renting costs money, which I don't really have. I barely have enough to last through October, whatwith rent, phone bill, insurance, and foodstuffthings. Nevermind that Isabel (my car) is overdue for a check-up, and is leaking oil. I desperately need a job, but can't find one. I was promised my entire life that once I had a college degree, I would be able to get a job, no problem. Seems that this is no longer the case, whatwith the economy downturn, and with everyone having been told that and subsequently going and getting a college degree. It nearly makes me wish I weren't taking the year off of school. I know that once I get my master's degree, I will have no trouble finding a job - SLPs are in high demand right now. But until then...notsomuch. I put in at an employment agency, and am hoping for a call from them...right...now. *sigh* Alas. Hopefully within the week. Also applying to jobs listed on craigslist.org, but that is somewhat discouraging, as I usually don't even get called, and have not had a call-back after any of the few interviews that I have had. So I am discouraged on that front. And attempting to not spend any money at all until I find something. This is difficult.

One thing that I worry about is gas money. Of course, who doesn't nowadays? I'm spending less than I did when I was living in RSM, since I was driving in two to three times per week. So that is good. However, when I was living there, I left my church and began attending a church in San Juan Capistrano, a few miles further south from RSM. I have fallen in love with it, and in the two months that I have been there I have felt so welcomed. I do not want to stop going there. But again, it is about thirty-six miles each way. Isabel gets maybe twenty-five miles per gallon on the freeway, so that is about three gallons per trip, or a little over fifteen dollars per week to drive to church. Right now I feel like since that is the only extensive driving that I am doing, it is okay for now, but I might have to skip a few weeks. We shall see, I guess.

So the job-hunting and lack of money is mostly what has been going on lately. I am glad to be back near Biola, back near my friends, though. It seems that most of them are fairly happy about that, as well.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Comfy clothes?

2008-09-02T20:02:00.000-07:00

I like clothing. It interests me. And so, as might be expected, I was very happy at the homerathon this past weekend, when Joi, Dr. Reynolds, and I discovered a very important theme of clothing and appearances running through the Illiad and the Odyssey. As is usual after the homerathon, I do not really remember most of what was said. But...it was important and interesting!

After four homerathons, I have learned to come very prepared. After having spent my first, freshman year, cold, hungry, and in pain, I now bring a change of warmer clothing, a good amount of food, and drugs (among other things such as a sun-hat and cough-drops). It is a testament to the weather lately that I did not have to change into my warmer clothes (jeans and a t-shirt and a sweatshirt) until about two in the morning. When I did emerge from the bathroom after changing, the girl waiting said, "oo! comfy clothes!" This puzzled and somewhat amused me. To me, these were the sadly necessary, non-comfy clothes. My idea of 'comfy clothes' includes the sun-dress out of which I had just changed. Jeans are not comfortable. They do not allow for movement. They are not twirly, and do not blow in the wind. Long skirts/sundresses are all of these. And they are also pretty! If jeans were comfortable, I would have worn them in the first place. Why dress up for a homerathon?

I do not believe, and never have believed, that there is a single way in which all people should dress. I have never been an advocate for all girls wearing dresses and skirts. I do believe that people should wear what is comfortable to them (within reasonable limits, without scandal to those around them, of course). I feel most myself, most comfortable, in dresses and skirts. I understand that this is not true for many women, and that is fine.

That night, we talked a lot about proper clothes for different times, and what clothes say about a person or situation. But I think we forgot to even think about comfort, and what that says. I think that while we were right in thinking that what a person wears influences them (I do not recall what led to this, or how to rightly explain this idea), but we also forgot to talk about how what a person wears reveals them. If all people wore what they found comfortable, you would likely be able to tell much about a person. It is an interesting thought, anyway. I shall likely think more on it.

Blessings on your travels,

Emily

Moments in time

2008-08-04T23:39:00.000-07:00

"I love having you stay here - you're so fun."

As Nicole says this and hugs me goodnight, my heart melts and the frustrations that had built up this evening don't seem so important. Semi-nannying for a ten year-old is mostly easy: she is pretty self-sufficient, and my job mostly consists of making sure she eats dinner and goes to bed at a reasonable hour. Sometimes, though, it can be difficult. Tonight, she wasn't hungry, and I was exhausted (having danced for four nights and three days straight). My patience was at its limit, toward the 'you know, I don't even care' end. I finally got her to eat some scrambled eggs and a cup-o-noodles. *cringe* Being a traditionalist, I hate that that could be considered a 'dinner.' By that point it was nine-thirty. I told her she could relax for an hour, then lights out at ten-thirty. Ten-thirty hits, and she has ten minutes left in the movie she was watching, so I let her finish, then said, 'okay, bedtime.' But she asks to call her mom to say goodnight, and of course I have to let her. She talks to her mom for about fifteen minutes, then asks if she can take a bath. Sometimes I have trouble getting her to take a shower or bath, so I say all right - somewhat frustrated at how late it's getting, but also glad that this one was voluntary. Twenty minutes in the bath - it is now eleven-fifteen. Then she disappears into the other bathroom. I think she is changing, brushing out her hair, &c. Fifteen minutes. "Nicole, what are you doing in there?" She opens the door, holding a bottle of mouthwash and her mouth full. I nearly roll my eyes. Now I know she is just begging for more time awake, she just doesn't want to go to bed. This is the child who regularly complains about having to brush her teeth. "Bed time. It's really late." She apologizes, says she 'wanted her teeth to feel good.' As the daughter of a dental assistant, I have the immediate supportive reaction to that, but again, I am frustrated that she is stalling. I'm tired - I barely slept this weekend, and I need to go to bed as well! (although, as you can see, I haven't yet...) I've almost snapped. She asks if it's okay with me that she has music on at night (she has taken to sleeping with her radio on. I understand - I went through that phase when I was about her age, too.) and I say yes, but it is a bit loud, and maybe she could turn it down some. And then the hug, and those dear words: "I love having you stay here - you're so fun."

I feel in a tricky position sometimes. I am technically in charge when her mom is gone, but she calls and appeals to her mom a lot. I will say "bed at ten." Mom will drop by around nine forty-five and tell me that she's going to let her read until ten-thirty. I say bed at ten, and then she still has to brush her teeth, call mom, take a bath. I know I need to talk to her, explain to her that bed at ten means taking care of these things before ten, but it is so hard, especially when she says something like, "I love having you stay here - you're so fun."

It is moments like that, a short moment in time, a moment in the middle of all of the frustration and exhaustion, that make me glad that I took this position, that makes it so that I love staying here, too.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Mixed Emotions on Two Subjects

2008-06-11T09:41:00.000-07:00

It snowed yesterday, with more in the forecast. Probably warming up to mid-sixties by the weekend, though! On one hand, I'm happy, since I missed the best winter that we have had in goodness knows how long. (well, the weathermen and statisticians probably know, but that is beside the point.) On the other hand, however, it is June, and there really should not be snow in June.

I visited my library yesterday - the one in which I grew up, learned to read, learned to love reading, checked out so many books at a time I could barely carry them all, &c. This summer they started an adult summer reading program. I have not been in a summer reading program in a really long time. Even a 'goodness knows how long' time, with no caveat this time, since my librarian (Wilma, whom I love and who was the one who got me into reading and encouraged me and gave me more books than I could carry) said they do not have records of past years. The deal is that if you read three books between June first and August thirty-first, you get a two-for-one entrance coupon to the Northwest Museum of Arts and Culture. Which is pretty great, really. So Wilma got me to sign up. Here is my mixed emotions on the subject:
On the one hand (let us say, my left hand), I feel sort of silly signing up for it. I read anyway. I read lots and lots and lots. I sort of feel like this type of program is to encourage those who do not usually read to read a bit. On the other (right) hand, I feel somewhat slighted. See, my first book on the list will be Crime and Punishment - I am currently about one hundred pages from the end. The next one will be Nicholas and Alexandra - again, about eight hundred pages. Most people, I am sure, will be reading short books with little content for the same prize. And, on top of that, I will be finishing all in June, as I am flying back to California on July second. I hope that I will finish in time to actually use the coupon to the museum.
I like reading.

Thoughts of this week: A rambling post.

2007-12-07T19:47:00.000-08:00

Monday.
Done with Fluency. I think I will get an A. Fairly sure that I did a decent job on the final - the essay question may have been a bit lacking, but other than that I did all right. It is nice to be done with a class, but that was not one of the ones toward the end of which I have been looking forward.

I went dancing for the first time since August. It has been an especially hard semester, and I think that not going dancing added to the emotional difficulty. It was nice to be back, nice to see people again, and move again. An added bonus, I danced with Bill Nye. As in the science guy. For real. Twice. (which means that he enjoyed dancing with me enough to ask again!) He's a very good dancer. I was somewhat giddy afterwards, and that giddiness has been slow in wearing off. I mean...his show was an integral part of my childhood. And I just danced with him. And after the dance he held out his hand and said, "I'm Bill." *giggle* (no, I didn't giggle. I said, "I'm Emily. Nice to meet you." and didn't really let on that I knew who he was or was at all very excited about what had just happened.) *giggle*

I love Christmas time, but get tired of the over commercialization of it. Especially annoying to me are gaudy decorations. I like lights - they are pretty. I remember that when the "icicle" lights began showing up, I disliked them. What is wrong with a single string? Why must we take something that is beautiful in simplicity and destroy it by going too far? Same for those deer composed of wire and lights...especially the ones that are motorized. However, driving at night on Monday, I realized that these two categories of decorations seem simple and nice now, compared with the gaudy monstrosities decking many lawns. Those blow-up things. They come in many shapes and sizes, some worse than others, but all horrid. They make me want to sneak around at night with a pair of scissors - vigilante justice for the destroyers of beauty. Now I appreciate those who stick to simple icicle lights and automated deer - those at least are still beautiful, if a bit much.

Tuesday.
Done with bowling. Patrick and I scored our highest game yet this semester - 452 - and yet it counted for nothing. We finished in last place. It doesn't really matter; neither of us care for pride's sake, although I am a bit sad about how league/class standing affects one's grade. It was a fun class.

I am so overcomitted, and yet always seem to add even more. I had not wanted to be very involved in the ASL chapel songs, but ended up in a library study room for several hours making a video with Jay and Jordan and Ryan to put up for the rest of the class to practice to. Because 1) Jay and I were the best at signing the songs, and 2) I didn't want the whole performance to suck. We had fun, even though it took way too long.

I broke down and bought a MilkyWay ice-cream bar out of the library food court ice-cream machine. Bliss can be purchased for a dollar, although it does not last nearly long enough. One less dollar with which to go to Europe. *sigh*

Wednesday.
Everyone else is done with clinic now. I still have next week, since I had to cancel once this semester. The others were really sad. I am sure that I will be next Wednesday. I'm going to miss my client a lot. I will probably see him next semester, though, since he will be coming at the time that I will be seeing my new client. I'm somewhat jealous of whoever gets him - I hope it will be someone who needs an easy client; I hope my new client is not too difficult.

Dinner at Tonya's replaced didactic. It is so nice to go to a real house and have a real meal in a real dining room/kitchen. They have an aquarium in their wall, with a shrimp that cleans things, and a bright orange anemone that apparently killed most of their coral. Oh, and there were fish, too.

Chapel came and went. I think it was all right. I screwed up one line, but no one seemed to notice. It was toward the end and we were all getting fairly tired.

Auditions. Amazing, really. A few weeks ago, I was so glad the play was finally over, so glad for a break from theatre. And now I am so excited that it is starting up again. I got to sit in on the readings, which is always fun. So much talent. I am looking forward to next semester a lot. I love being involved, and do not think that I could have made it through my time here without it. I would not be able to give it up even if I wanted to.

Thursday.
Friendship is odd. Something like a bunch of people almost falling over, and leaning on one another to stay upright. We need other people. We need them to keep us from falling, but we also...need to be needed, I suppose. People become closer during crises, more than they do during times when all is going well. The needing does not even have to be during a major crisis. It can be as simple as a run to the store to get some soup and jello for a sick friend. It is something that she needs, something that I can do for her. And also, doing something for her is something that I need, as she has done so much for me. But not in an "I owe you" sort of way. Debts should never be counted in that manner. Rather in a way akin to 'I love you, so I want to do this for you. I am grateful for how you have helped me, and now I am taking the opportunity to show that gratitude by giving help to you.' And in this way, in a loving friendship where help, not debt, is the focus, it becomes a cycle of helping and leaning, fulfilling needs on both ends. We can not survive without others.

Most of the guys in my gymnastics class are taking the advanced class next semester. I'm not. Many of them keep telling me that I should. Would it be fun? Probably, for the most part. But not fun enough to warrant taking it. The class has left me exhausted and often in pain. Another semester of it might border on masochism. Done now. I am glad that I took it, and glad that it is over.

I am weary of the library. In a lot of ways, I do not want to work there anymore. But I would not be able to work as many hours any other job that I got (if I could even find another one), and I need the money. One more semester. I remember that for a while when I was little, I wanted to be a librarian. The children's librarians at my local public library (Wilma and Ruth) were so wonderful, and opened many doors in literature for me as I grew up. It is common, I think, for children to want to follow the professions of those adults who have a great influence in their lives. That may be why it is so common that an elementary school child will declare that they want to be a teacher. No more. I would not survive, at least not sanely, were I to follow that path. No, I know perfectly well where I am going, and am looking forward to getting there. It really is a good student job. I'm just tired of it, that's all. I'm tired of everything, really.

Meeting for the Europe trip. I have decided to go, for certain. I will find the money, somehow. I need this, to be at only fourteen units next semester. I need to take care of myself, I really do. It is hard. The meeting was good, though. Good to see people, good to get me on track of what I need to be doing. Get stuff figured out.

Second night of auditions. Fun, fun. I love hearing the directors' thoughts in between readings. I love running errands and making things easier for them. I love being guaranteed a place in theatre without having to audition.

Friday. Today.
I am so tired. I am tired physically, mentally, and emotionally. I have been so stretched and strained this semester. I am ready to curl up in front of the fire and sleep for three weeks.

I filled up my car with gas today (a plague upon my wallet!). It took a really long time, because apparently you should fill on the slowest setting so that you get more gas per gallon. Sounds odd, but if you fill on the faster setting you get a lot more fumes/it evaporates more quickly. So it took a long time. While I am standing there, my hand getting sore, a man walks up to me. He looks nice, I suppose, about fifty or so. Silver hair, clean cut, smiling. Comes up. I'm nervous; I don't like strange men approaching me, even if they do look nice. He says hi, I say hello. He says, "I'm pumping gas way over on the other side and I looked up and saw you. And I noticed how the cold has turned your cheeks all rosy pink, and I had to come over and tell you how lovely you look." I must say, I am a bit taken aback. Where is the catch? No, no catch. Just a smile and a compliment. I'm sure it turned me a bit more pink. I smiled back and said, "Thank you. Thanks." It might be the first time I actually felt bashful. He went back to his car and drove away. It made my day. This summer, I watched Firefly (the whole...one season) with some friends. I forget which episode it is from, but my favourite quote is an exchange between Kaylee and Wash:
"Wash, do you think I'm pretty?"
"Were I unwed, I would take you in a manly fashion."
"'Cause I'm pretty?"
"Yeah. Because you're pretty."
Sometimes a girl just needs to hear it, you know? People tell me that I am cute a lot. I generally think it is because I am little, not really taking it as a compliment - I'm used to it and the word is overused, it carries very little meaning. But for a total stranger to come up, tell me I am lovely, and then leave, wanting nothing in return. That was wonderful. I needed that.

The weather has been nice. Finally semi-autumnal (just in time for winter). Raining at night, sometimes during the day. Cloudy and blustery. A good change for the constant sun and heat. Looking forward to going home, even if there are things there to which I am not looking forward. Break is needed, and will be good overall, I think.

Saturday. Tomorrow.
My finals next week still seem so far away, but I need to study for them. Tomorrow and Sunday will be especially important for me to get things done. Five quizzes to take on blackboard, and three finals to study for (sign will be easy, voice and aural, not so much). A quick and easy paper to write for sign as well, but I need to find someone already done with it so that I can borrow their book. Sell back my aural books. I can't wait for that class to be over.

Now.
Off to the library, to collect recycling before they close. It is amazing how much money people throw away. Some people think I am silly, picking bottles out of garbage cans, for only a nickel a piece, but they do add up, and each one puts me five cents closer to Europe.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Arise, Shine...

2007-10-05T22:40:00.000-07:00

For your light has come,
And the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.

My final convocation was this evening. I am officially a senior. I am not entirely sure how to handle that, honestly. The ceremony was more emotional that I had expected. I knew that I would probably cry; I had not anticipated the extent to which that ended up being true. For this to be coming to an end...it is really unfathomable. I do not know what my life will be like without this community: this, my family of four years.

So I cried.

I cried as we, the seniors, lit our candles. I cried as I watched the Juniors (especially the johnson housers) light theirs. And I cried as I looked on at the new freshmen, aware of how little I will ever get to know them as I have everyone else. I think I was the only one there (at least, the only student there) who cried. And right in front, at that, with all of the new freshmen and parents looking on.

Certainly, this week has been overly emotional for me, and were it not for that, I may not have broken down as much. But that is mere petty excuse.

Now my roommates, and most of my classmates, are out celebrating, as is tradition. Denny's for Olympia; Bonfire with s'mores for Augustine; Bread and cheese for Gregory. Then all together (by now, I am sure) at a house where some of our men live. I am glad that I chose to not go out this evening. My decision to stay in was influenced by several factors. The one that everyone who asked got to hear was that I am weary, and need to rest. This much is true, though, as always, there are certainly more. But as they were not related to people, neither shall they be related here. Suffice it to say that it is better for me to remain.

I sit on my couch, eating mashed potatoes (my comfort food) and listening to Simon and Garfunkel (though only the quiet songs), in the darkness except for my computer screen and the small, white Christmas lights strung in our living room. So peaceful, so restful.

I tell the Newmanites and Homerites that they are not allowed to be juniors. Not all lies and jest, I assure you, in that. If they are juniors, then they are no longer my freshmen. I am a senior now, and it is a terrifying thing. They claim they are ready, that I can let them go. Alas, it is not all for their sakes that I cling on so.

I look back (crying) on my freshman convocation. It seems so long ago, and yet, paradoxically, like it was yesterday. I was confused (as I imagine most freshmen generally are at that ceremony) and desperate to be liked - all alone here without knowing anyone, one wants to make a good initial impression. This preoccupied me, as things such as this are wont to do, and I really remember very little of the entire thing. But I remember the candles. The 'ring' went perhaps halfway up each side. This year, we could all barely fit in the full circle around the auditorium. I wonder how they will fit next year, when my class, the smallest class, is replaced in the ring by the new freshmen class, the largest class. I wonder if I will make it down for that. How I long for it, already. I am clinging to the past when I have not even yet left it behind - why is that?

A senior I am, whether or not I like the fact...and I suppose that I do, essentially.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily.

Possible Hypocrisy

2007-09-21T08:43:00.000-07:00

Every day I come to my blog, here. And every day I click on each of those links over on the right hand side of my page. A few of my friends (Amanda Mae, Becky and Caitlin, &c.) almost always have something new to say. Most do not. And it makes me sad, and I often wish that people would post more often.

And then I realize that I rarely post either. Sorry about that.

My trouble with blogging is I keep a paper journal. I do so for various reasons:
- I like writing in cursive
- It is safer/more private
- It is rather more romantic than using a computer
- and so forth...

So when I really want to say something, it is usually said there. I rarely have coherent opinions on things about which I could blog, as some people do, which prevents me from posting those sort of things. However, I do not want to end up like a junior higher on myspace, only ranting about what emotional trouble I have been going through, and about how horribly hard life is. *shudder*

The problem, I suppose, with avoiding that scenario (of becoming akin to a junior higher) is that people often only want to stop and write when things are not going well.
If my life is wonderful (as it is a fair amount of the time, like everyone, I suppose), then I do not want to put my living it on hold as I type about it for my few readers to see. People in general, I think, follow this principle, and it is probably why those poor junior highers received the reputation they did.

On another (related) tangent, I think that this is also why there are many more sad or depressing songs (or poems) about love than happy songs (or poems) about love. (This is based off of a discussion with my friend Katy, to give credit where due.) When people are sad about or disappointed with love, they have time to sit and write sad, disappointed songs (or poems) about it. When people are happy about love, they do not have the time to write happy songs (or poems) about it, because they are busy being happy with their beloved. Which I like, although it would be nice for more happy love songs (or poems) to be written in general. Er...quality ones, to qualify that statement.

So, that is my apology for not writing often. Either I am too pleased with life to be bothered with recording my thoughts (a deficit of my soul, more than likely), or I record said thoughts in my paper journal.

Perhaps what I need is more frivolity. To be unconcerned with having something important or thoughtful (or long) to say. To simply say.

Perhaps.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Funny, I don't feel very different...

2007-08-20T08:21:00.000-07:00

Twenty-one and strong as I can be -
I know what freedom means to me,
And I can't give the reason why
I should ever want to die.
Got no cause to be afraid
Or fear that life will ever fade,
'Cause as I watch the rising sun
I know that we have just begun.
I might spend my life upon the road,
Just tryin' to add to what I know.
Then someday I might settle down,
And all my friends will be around.

This Time is the Last Time

2007-08-04T00:07:00.001-07:00

I am now nearly moved out of Hart. The next time that I move will be away from Biola forever. And for that, I am so glad. I am sick of moving. Almost all of my possessions are in my apartment, although walking into my dorm room one probably would not guess it to be so. All of my drawers are cleared out, my wardrobe is empty. However, it still looks like I live here (if one does not look inside said furniture), due to lots of things lying about still. Soon they will all be stowed away in a box labeled 'random junk' and also hauled off to the apartment. And then I will take my table, my hutch, and my refrigerator. And then I will be truly gone from Hart, from on-campus housing, from dorm-life forever.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Getting Dangerous

2007-07-30T11:48:00.000-07:00

So, I still have not read the final Harry Potter book. Have not even started it, actually. And that is getting dangerous for me. It seems like everywhere I go, people are talking about it or writing about it or referencing it. Spoilers abound! I have had to be so careful just to avoid hearing or reading things. Because, you see, it is not that I do not care or am particularly waiting to read it until later. I used to be fanatic about reading a new one the second it was released - spending five or so hours on the couch, not moving until I was done with it.

But we must also remember that the first of these books came out nearly ten years ago. I was eleven, the same age as our heroes were in the first book. Now I am in college, and honestly, occasionally have better things to do than read a seven-hundred page novel (however amazing) in one setting. Mostly, the better thing that I have to do is read a(n amazing) one-thousand twenty-one page poem for my Faerie Qveene class in the fall.

But be that as it may, I really do need to get a hold of a copy of Harry Potter VII before I hear too much more about it. One can not cover one's ears and hum for very long, nor can one avoid reading other people's blogs forever. One part of me is sad that the series has come to an end, but another part of me is happy about it. I expected the end to come three years ago. It has been too long coming, and I will read it soon.

Just...please do not spoil it for me!

Blessings on your travels,

Emily

My Sister Got Married.

2007-07-10T08:47:00.000-07:00

On Sunday. It was beautiful and wonderful and magnificent. Maybe some pictures to come?

Reflections Upon Moving, Yet Again

2007-05-29T09:17:00.000-07:00

On Sunday I moved back to Hart. It was strange - it certainly felt as though it had been longer than a semester. Coming back onto the hall was like walking through a ghost town, except it being one where you had lived only six months prior, and then it had been full of life. Oh, dear. Shame on my confusing similes. Anyway, it was empty and faded. There was no one about. All of the decorations were still there, but rather dilapidated. It felt like a shadow of what I have known for three years (minus the last semester).

Soon, of course, more people came, and it came a bit back to life. But it was still not the same. If anything it may have been even more strange. You see, because it is the summer housing dorm, everyone on campus who is staying for the summer has to live there. Which means that people who belong in Sigma - who have lived in upper campus for three years, and perhaps have never even been to Lower Campus - are living there. Weird. Just plain weird. There is really no other term for it. Well, maybe another term is amusing. But only in the weirdly amusing sense.

I suppose that what I don't really understand is why the school makes us move so often. Okay, so it was my choice to move at the semester. And really, having to move again this week almost made me wish we hadn't - because then I could have just stayed in my room for the summer, and not had to worry about packing until the fall. (Although it really was worth it to get into the apartments.) Why, though, can't we all just stay put? Or at least the apartment dwellers? Why squeeze us back into the tiny dorm rooms, when we were just getting used to our spacious freedom? Oh, it is so small. So, so small.

On the plus side, it isn't Sigma : )

Blessings on your travels,

Emily

On the Subject of Hair (Part two of two)

2007-04-26T20:29:00.000-07:00

I really like my hair. I never understood (nor do I now) why girls with curly hair want to straighten it. This was especially so in junior high, when the perm was such a phenomena. People would ask me if I ever straightened my hair, or would say that I ought to. But I simply responded, quite rationally, if I may say so myself, that people paid a lot of money to get hair like mine, so why should I ruin it?

It is not that I have never wanted straight hair, or that I think everyone should want curly hair. I actually look good with straight hair. But I look good with curly hair as well. There have been times that I claimed to want beautiful straight hair, like that of my sister. But that was more an "I am so sick of having to brush out all of these knots" sort of wanting. A desire for less work, rather than for the look. I wouldn't get rid of my hair for the world. Maybe for a lot of money. But it would have to be a whole lot. And tax free.

I like my hair a lot more now than I did in junior high and high school, and even early college. You see, for my last birthday, my wonderful sister gave me a book about curly hair. It happens to be called Curly Girl and it is wonderful. A transcript of an online interview with the author can be found here. She advocates an incredibly unorthodox treatment of hair, which I will not reproduce here. But I will say that if you have curly hair and are sick of it being so much work, let me know and you can borrow the book. I have been following its instructions since last September, and my hair has never looked or felt better. I do still have to vigorously fight the dreadful locks, but one must persevere to win the prize.
Blessings on your travels,
Emily

A Dread-ful Situation? (Part one of two)

2007-04-13T00:12:00.000-07:00

Recently in a conversation, one of my friends wondered aloud, "how do you start dreadlocks?"
I half-jokingly answered, "well, if you're me, you just don't brush your hair for a week."

I am not sure how normal people start dreadlocks. Honestly, I am not sure why anyone does. But every few days in the shower I vigorously apply conditioner to one or two 3-or-so-inch sections of my hair that have managed to work themselves into a dreadlock sort of state. My mind fluctuates between wanting to give up and just grow dreads, and disgustedly wondering why anyone in their right mind would do such a thing. Of course, my being in my right mind is still something of a debate, so the two are not necessarily irreconcilable.

Perhaps in our search for understanding, we should look at the word itself: dreadlocks. A compound word. Locks, obviously, refers to one's hair. This is not to be confused with lox. Occasionally, this word is preceded by an adjective. For example, see Goldilocks. She had yellow (gold) hair. Or maybe she had the new iHair from Apple, available in a multitude of colours, including but not limited to gold! pink! black! (Actually, it turns out, after a brief search [yay for google!] that iHair is not an Apple product at all, but a hair-loss solution. Apple should take over their business, if only for the name's sake.)
ahem. I digress.
Now: the word DREAD. According to dictionary.com, dread means "to fear greatly, to be in extreme apprehension of." Does not exactly sound pleasant.
Hair that is to be feared. And I do, oh I do...
Blessings on your travels,
Emily

This is why I read Scriptorium Daily.

2007-03-23T11:36:00.000-07:00

"Let’s just take moment to celebrate the circle of life. And butterflies. Armed to the teeth."

: )

And you?

2007-02-16T11:13:00.000-08:00

A plug for my new favourite webcomic, Savage Chickens.
This is totally what happens to me when people ask.

Any Way the Wind Blows...

2007-01-19T18:05:00.000-08:00

So, with the season premiere being last week, I have been thinking a lot about the television show “American Idol.” Ever consider trying out? Even toy with the idea? Someone please say yes so I do not end up feeling so idiotic as I am about to here…

I have. Well, toyed with the idea, that is. I would never really consider going through with it. I hold no illusions of grandeur about myself and my singing voice or stage presence. I have never had training or feedback of any kind, mostly because I fairly refuse to sing (by myself) in front of most people – the people have to be trustworthy or it has to be very late at night. Or both, in which case I am probably at theatre rehearsal.

However, despite my own knowledge of my likely lack of skill, would not it be amazingly cool to get on television? Yeah, yeah. I know. You think that I would most likely end up being one of those abysmally embarrassed individuals who leaves crying. Actually, the only reason that I have toyed with the notion is because, gosh, I must be better than some of those contestants. In fact, I would probably be so average that I would not even get on to television.

Seriously, now. Some people come into their audition, and swear that they love the show and have watched every episode since season one and yadda, yadda. If that were true, don’t they know that screaming/shrieking, trying to impress with your incredible “range,” and adding in all of those ridiculous vibrato moments does not exactly sit well with the three illustrious judges? That is to say, I have watched the show enough to know how to not make a fool of myself, but said knowledge would actually decrease my chances of ever getting on said show, because I will tell you now: my voice is not going to get me anywhere.

So as I watch, I remind myself, I am better than the worst, worse than the best, and incurably average in my singing voice. Which is a little bit depressing, when I dwell on it much. Luckily, I also have an incurably short attention span.

Hey, look! A butterfly!

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Oh, the Cleverness of Me!

2006-12-26T15:37:00.000-08:00

Or of my parents, really, I suppose.

HowManyOfMe.com

There is:
1
person with my name
in the U.S.A.

How many have your name?

One person - that's ME! Hurray!

City of Lights

2006-12-16T15:52:00.000-08:00

No, I'm not in Paris. *lesigh*

I'm home, and I'm just now calling it the city of lights. You see, as I flew in last night, I watched the lights from the sky. And they were magnificent. It is always beautiful flying in - there is something about coming home after a long time that makes it seem to be the most beautiful place in the world. But last night, the valley looked like a bed of sparkling diamonds. It was after we landed that I realized the reason for this was the Christmas lights. You know the type - "icicle" lights that blink on and off. Well, from so high up, each houses' light show was discernable as one light, blinking quickly. It was incredible. So I thought I would share the beautiful image with my few readers, and let you know that I am home, happy, rested, and looking forward to my month-and-a-half long break.

Blessings on your travels,

Emily

Finality

2006-12-09T20:05:00.000-08:00

As the end of the semester is drawing near, I am about to say goodbye to my home of two and one-half years. Next semester I will be leaving Hart Hall and moving into the Lido apartment complex, with my dear roommate and her two dear former-roommates. I was surprised, but greatly pleased, to be told that we were the only people who had entered our names into the lottery for the particular apartment into which we will be moving. It is a ridiculously complicated affair. We have to be out of our rooms and into the apartment by Friday. However, the girls in the apartment are graduating Friday evening, and are thus not required to be out until Saturday. At the same time, two other wonderful girls will be moving into Hope and Elizabeth's room. It's like a big dance, and I dearly hope that I will not trip over anyone else's feet in the process.

Hart has been good to me, for the most part. Although I never fit in, it did feel as much like home as I can imagine anywhere on campus feeling. The community is a good one, being small enough to be able to get to know nearly everyone. There are always people about, and activities or conversations into which you can join. This semester has been different for me. I am a junior now, and need more sleep than I have the past two years (goodness, I feel old). I have to spend more time at my studies than socializing. Most people on my floor are sophomores and freshmen, and, as I was at that point in my life, are rather loud most of the time. Nothing horrid about that in itself--they get on just fine--but the time has come for me to move on. I do love Hart, and will remember the good times more than the times I lay awake at two in the morning wishing for some peace so that I could sleep : ) The poorer memories will fade away, but the memories of joy and pleasantness and rearranging furniture will, I hope, remain always.

God bless Hart Hall, the best dorm on campus.

God bless Lower Campus, for if you can't make it into Hart, I suppose Stewart will do.

And Blessings on your travels,

Emily

Intellectual Frivolity

2006-11-21T15:53:00.000-08:00

Last night, during the Republic Metathon, I made a run to Eagle's with Marlene. I do not remember how the topic came up (it must have been quite quick, for the walk to Eagle's is not very long, and we were deep in our discussion by the time we got to the fountain), but the effect and thoughts of it were rather interesting to me. Actually I do not remember most of the conversation (like oh so many discussions in which I have taken part). However, the important bit is the content and conclusion. Ahem.
I think that the conclusion is that there are two types of fools, or those who behave in a foolish, or frivolous, manner. The first type is your stereotypical fool, who does not comprehend anything in the world, especially not his own particular ridiculousness. He might be also classified as a sort of idiot, I suppose, though I ought to run that by Marlene to see what she thinks.
The second type is where we classified ourselves, and the majority of Torrey students (mind, not that the rest of people are of the other sort - most people simply are not frivolous at all). Be as that parenthetical amendment may, we sorted ourselves among those that one might call the "intellectual frivolous." We see the universe. We think about and discuss and wonder at the universe, and life, and all that we encounter. We desperately attempt some semblance of understanding of it all. And this bit of understanding at which we grasp leads us to the realization that the universe (and life and so forth) is a wonderful, marvelous place, and what better thing to do with our slight knowledge of it than indulge in frivolity?
It is when we do not understand things that we (all humans? well, at least my friend and I) become serious and, dare I say it, formal. But, in the middle of this great conversation about some of the biggest ideas a man has ever put forth; after a giant breakthrough on both our parts; after rationality and solemnity had brought us to some degree of understanding, we were delighted to skip arm-in-arm giggling through campus - and yet, still able to not lose that spark of rationale, discuss frivolity in a quite intellectual manner, even as we partook in our sacred share.

Hurrah for friends, and books, and a cultish community where the two may be perfectly combined into near utter bliss.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Like a Ray of Sunshine

2006-11-09T23:05:00.000-08:00

Beauty from the 4-D Design Class, Part Two

I am uncertain who took the balcony of the library as their spot, but it made me very happy every time I walked by. There is not really much to say about this one - it really speaks for itself. A new colour/piece went up each day. It makes me joyful. Well done.

.

(from further away)

(from closer up)

I wish I had taken pictures on a more sunny day, because it looks even more cheerful then. But you can see even with the overcast sky the simple beauty of this project.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

A Quiet Place

2006-11-07T19:47:00.000-08:00

Beauty from the 4-D Design Class, Part Two

Today I will show you the place of Erin Meyer. This quiet spot is located out front of the sculpture/theatre-21 building, behind some incredibly unassuming bushes. I had to look rather hard to find it, even after being told exactly where to look. At first glance, it does not seem as though Erin did much with the spot:

However, keep in mind that this place was entirely bare and weed-ridden, like behind all the other bushes in this area, before Erin took it under her caring wing. She not only made the bench to place there, she also laid all those bricks herself, bought and laid the sod, and planted flowers. I am assuming that pulling up weeds/ivy also went into it, though I have not asked her about that.

What I love most about this spot that she essentially created is that it so much reflects her wonderful personality. Peaceful, personable, unassuming, yet friendly and joyful. I know that being at college, my friend has missed being able to work and care for the ground, and it was so exciting to discover that she had found a spot in which to do this. I appreciate the difference between most of the other places that the 4-D design folk had, and this place - the other installments brought something external to the place, made it more than it had been, perhaps made the places a bit contrived (though wonderful and beautiful!). This one, however, seems to merely have actualized the place behind the bushes: Erin allowed it to become fully realized in its potential, and for that, my dear friend, well done.

On another note, I am happy to discover a small readership. (at least one person! yay!) I will not force, but when you leave comments, could you select the "other" option, which will allow you to leave your name? I would much prefer that to anonymity. Thanks ever so.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

My Favourite

2006-11-04T16:14:00.000-08:00

Beauty from the 4-D Design Class, Part One

The first of the 4-D design projects that I will report on belongs to my dear friend Robin Zimmerman. She chose, as the place to make her own, MY spot. After discovering this, I graciously lent it to her ; )

Besides this being my absolute favourite place on campus, I love what Robin did with it! The swing was so exciting to find, and I was privileged to be present as she was decorating the fence with those gorgeous autumn leaves (too rare hereabouts). The papers bound to the tree are poems. There is, as seen, a nice bench if swinging does not catch your fancy. The tupperware contains some of her favourite books that have good references to nature and beauty, and the box was a "take something, leave something" sort of thing. If you can not tell, Robin loves teal/turquoise. she made all of the wooden furnishings herself. The teal makes a striking contrast that I absolutely love, with the mild, muted colours of autumn.

I love this display of beauty so much. Bravo, Robin! I hope my few (if any?) readers are able to appreciate your hard work and eye for goodness as much as I have.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Frustration

2006-11-02T22:45:00.000-08:00

Well, this evening I went to upload my pictures of the art projects to my computer, and for some reason none of them were on my camera. I will go back to all the places tomorrow to retake the pictures - I hope most of them are still up!

And...bedtime.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Finding Good

2006-10-31T11:10:00.000-08:00

"Find the Good, and praise it."
This was the advice of Hugh Hewitt to young, Christian bloggers (at GodBlogCon), who wondered what they should be saying. We live in a world of criticism, where one tends to feel the need to tear things down. If we, as college students, are planning on making a difference in the world as we get older (this apparently applies especially to the political realm, but I think it true for everyone), things we say online now will follow us. One stupid comment on a young blog can ruin a person's influence twenty years down the road. So, both to be safe, and to be uplifting in a negative world, we ought to point out good, not bad. As Hugh said, once you're forty, you are allowed to criticize. Right now, I do not know enough about anything to criticize anything. Also, my own note here, there are enough people being negative. It's only natural, in our fallen world.

The good that I have been finding recently (well, for the last two years, really) stems from the art department here at Biola. We have a nice campus, but nothing incredibly beautiful. My friends who are art majors (as well as art majors with whom I have not been acquainted) strive with every project to bring beauty and love to the campus, in subtle or outright ways. This past week or two, the 4-D design class has been working on installations around campus. The specific assignment was to "find a place, and make it yours." They were to add something to it every day for a week. The few that I have seen have been fun, exciting, awe-inspiring, and beautiful. So, now that I have "found good," it seems to be my responsibility to "praise it." Thus, I have gone about campus (still in the process of this, really) taking pictures of all the installations I know of. The next few posts will be to share these and praise them to the world - these young, Christian artists who are coming every day to a better understanding of The Good, Truth, and Beauty, and helping those non-artistic ones, like myself, to appreciate beauty within the mundane every day.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily

Preliminaries

2006-10-28T13:46:00.000-07:00

Well, first things first.

Who? Me. Emily.
What? Creating a blog.
Where? On the internet. At blogger.com. In my room.
When? 28 October 2006.
How? A lovely little tutorial that blogger happens to have.
Why? Well, here is the important part, after all.

Why am I creating this blog?

Why the name Itsy-Bitsy Emu?

Why choose the pink template?
The first two of these questions I am prepared to answer. As for the third, I have no idea. A moment of temporary insanity, if you will.

I just came through three great days of the second annual GodBlogCon at Biola University, created and hosted by one of my programs here, the Torrey Honors Institute. Yay! Last year I only really found out about the conference after it had happened, which is strange considering how involved I am in Torrey. This year I managed to attend about two-thirds of the sessions. I have never had a serious blog before, just a semi-anonymous xanga where I occasionally post song-lyrics and emotional tirades. So, I have never properly blogged before. And participating in this conference made me feel like I ought to. So now I have it, for real this time. Now the challenge is will be to actually post every once in a while, as well as the whole "will people actually read this?" anxiety that one goes through.

Why did I name my site Itsy-Bitsy Emu? Well. This past summer, while in Europe with forty amazing wonderful people (on the Torrey Europe trip), Dr. Reynolds decided to nick-name me Emu. I don't know why. I probably never will. For a day or so he was debating between Emu and Aravis (lovely character from Lewis' book The Horse and his Boy) and I dearly wish Aravis had won out. But Dr. Reynolds is one of those people who gives nick-names to those whom he likes, so I will take it as a compliment and deal with it. As for the itsy-bitsy part, well...I'm short. And here is a wikipedia article. Emus are seven feet tall. I'm five feet tall. So...yes. That is all the explanation that I have for you. It's a fun name and relates to me, and now I have a paper to look after.

Blessings on your travels,
Emily