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).

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.

{Insert Witty Title Here}

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

Rambling

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

Thoughts of this week: A rambling post.

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