The Spice of Life

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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Blessings on your travels,

Emily.

Winter is Apple Pie Time

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

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.

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?

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

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

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

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

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

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"

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?

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.

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

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

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

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?

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

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

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.

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

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

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)

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

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

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

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

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

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

(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

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

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

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.