Getting Dangerous

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.

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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.

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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!

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Blessings on your travels,

Emily

My Sister Got Married.

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

Reflections Upon Moving, Yet Again

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 : )

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Blessings on your travels,

Emily

On the Subject of Hair (Part two of two)

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)

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.

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

: )

And you?

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

Any Way the Wind Blows...

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!

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

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

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.

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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.

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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.

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And Blessings on your travels,

Emily

Intellectual Frivolity

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

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.

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(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

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

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

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

"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

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