Rhymes and Reasons

All dressed up and going to the grocery store

2012-01-19T21:15:00.004-05:00

You never know what you've got until it's gone. A fitting, if tear-stained, cliché to express remorse– longing. etc. etc.

Unless we're talking about Winter Break-- that can get out and stay out. I never realized how rushed I was during this break, squashing everything into my schedule–barely catching my breath after the holidays before trying to go-do-see all my winter fun– then back to the grindstone again.

Glazing

I love the breathing room that comes with life-after-college– it has beautifully translated into many leisurely hours in the pottery studio, playing in what little snow we have and occasionally walking my dogs. (By occasionally-- I mean that I walked them once. Today. About five hours ago.)

Aw-- Gus.

It's been a peaceful time for reflection, resolutions and refocusing, but my most valuable lesson came in the mail last week. It's all fun and games until it's time to pay the car insurance.

So, in the absence of winter break, there is job hunting.

Story time:

Today, I got myself hyped up– put the sweat pants away, put on mascara and brushed the dog hair off my jacket. Resume under my arm, professional smile-- I was ready to go until I left the house.

Pulling into the driveway of my destination, my palms got so sweaty I could barely hold the wheel. I parked the car.

Pep talk, if only my tongue would unstick from the roof of my mouth.

"Ok.."

Loosen up with a shoulder shake-- I learned it from my dog.

"Hi. My name is Emily and I want to work for you.."

No no.

"Idiot. Don't say that."

Deep breath.

"Okay. Hello. I am Emily. Take this resumé. I wrote it with blood, sweat and vinegar. You should hire me."

Smile. Check the teeth.

Whew.

Check the teeth again.

Wait.

Oh God-- What if they have surveillance cameras? 'Don't hire this kid. I saw her in the parking lot, talking to herself and making faces in the mirror-- she's nuts.'

Mission aborted. This process keeps me painfully self-conscious. It's the same thing with underwear shopping.

But, it was a shame to keep my scarf-vest combo from the world, so I went to the grocery store and walked slowly down the aisles, using my strong interpersonal communication skills to smile at the elderly and give children back their dropped toys. I bought some apples (the cashier said I looked nice) and walked, with a little recovered swag, back to my car. I will make a great employee, one day.

Seriously, my car insurance really needs to be paid; this flabby assertive muscle is about to get whomped. Necessity is the mother of growing up,

Emily

First Snowfall!

2012-01-12T14:24:00.002-05:00

Typically, as soon as December hits, I tuck my heart up in the hills and catch up with it every time I strap into my snowboard. This winter season has been painfully bare. I don't remember it ever taking so long to snow in Upstate. I've been pining– driving the snowbank-less streets Glens Falls on the way to The Mountain, passing the not-frozen lakes, listening to We Found Love over and over (I bet Rihanna had no idea she was singing about East Coast skiers). Life is tough right now for a snow-lover.

It was a beautiful, beautiful thing to wake up to the sound of the snowplow this morning, look out the window and say good morning to several inches of fresh pow!

(A few inches may not seem like much, but when you're parched, even mud puddles look Brita-fresh.)

I am loving this– I started off the morning playing outside with Bingley.

Bingley can make snowballs!

Can't wait to be on the slopes tomorrow, keep it up Momma N!

Emily

Adjective of Emily's week-month-..life?

2011-11-21T10:12:00.003-05:00

Disoriented

Adjective

CONFUSED, bewildered, lost at sea, adrift, off-course, having lost one’s bearings;

INFORMAL not knowing whether one is coming or going.

It’s not a permanent thing (oh please.) Just a germ that some folks pick up at stressful times in their lives; a condition that Hallmark can easily spin into a sympathy card. “Heard you’ve been disoriented, get well soon!”

The pill I keep popping in my mouth is full of “Emily, you’re going to be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You can make it.” (If you ever need a pep talk, hit me up.) See, I’ve come down with an unpleasant strain. Get well soon Emily, for your sake– but mostly for the people around you.

The story in this story:

The last few days I have somehow ended up on the wrong end of the hallway

taken the wrong right

at the top of the wrong stairs

and barged into the wrong apartment.

Picture this with me;

Hear the door BLAST OPEN. Enter Emily: a juggernaut, a wrecking ball. Foolish grin on her face (funny– it wasn’t foolish before she walked into the room. Why do nice things work like that?-- Joy. Laughter. Love. That is beautiful, empowering stuff. Flip the coin. Nothing sours as fast as a precious moment. Makes your bones heavy with broken glass and shame– heaps of shame..) A still second. Take in the unfamiliar scene. It just starts to register. Then the faces of the girls sitting on their couches, startled, wide-eyed, baffled, who-is-this-idiot. Staring at her staring at them: not her apartment mates. The grin melts into a perfect ‘O’ (oh crap), a halo around fumbling apologies. Retreat!

The door snaps shut behind me. It’s over. They’re on one side and I’m on the other, maladroit moron. (Close the door. Reset.) Everything falls back the way it ought to be, except not the way it was. Something happened.

I lost my bearings. By the time I crawl back to my place, I don’t remember that two of the girls were my friends. I forget that they graciously (after they finished laughing at me) offered me tea. That, as I scampered out, they told me to barge in anytime (for comic relief), That we, to say the least, made a memory. Because after the door shuts my memory course corrects around everything that went wrong. It's all bad.

It’s not all bad. Disoriented. It's just a germ. Point me in the right direction. Send a ‘get well’ card. I’ll be better soon.

There is a story in this story. Sharing this with you, I unwrapped some things about myself like:

It is in me to barge into strange places.

It is not in me to gracefully escape.

Illuminating moments, even if it took crawling over hot coals to hold them, are precious.

The status quo

should

can

will

change.

There is no pure reset button. And if you find one, smash it.

Back to [the business of] the future.

2011-09-10T20:44:00.006-04:00

The tally marks on the wall tell me it's been about three weeks since I've been back at Gordon.

It's been a productive week-end thus far. I dubstepped (..that's a generous verb for whatever I was doing...). I read 100 pages in Life and Death in Shanghai (read it, you won't!). I played guitar, which included subjecting my friends to a painful sing-a-long session. I spent some time worrying about NASA and their astronaut crisis (only 60 left!) Also, I gave three hearty cheers for discovering the joy and convenience of hyperlinking.

My favorite accomplishment of the day: teaching my apartment-mates how to play Tichu!

Beginners luck worked against my partner and I though...

us: emily's team.

them: not emily's team.

But in times like these I remember that, at the end of the day, winning isn't determined by the team that gets the most points, it's the team that does the most of this:

Now with this post wrapped up-- I've avoided it as long as I can-- I'm off to add homework to the day's list of accomplishments.

-Emily

Knowledge Fetched Shadows

2011-02-22T17:30:00.001-05:00

i studied myself

In the cutting, cold light of

One thousand mirrors

Picked apart my words

Dissected every action

Fragments and splinters

Unfolded, untied

‘Till, open on the table,

all of i– my Self.

Step back. Examine

These immortal scraps– heartCore.

Stirred with fallen seeds.

Houses divided

Searching, aching, homesick shards

i’ve almost grasped it

As i turn each piece

It falls open and open

Unfurling, undone.

All i hoped to know

Multiplies into myst’ries

Knowledge fetched shadows

A brief relocation

2011-02-03T10:12:00.004-05:00

Ever since I launched onto this undergraduate college adventure, I have wanted to study abroad– specifically in the Middle East. Here I am, greetings from Jerusalem! There are adventures at hand, I'll be sharing them here.

Follow me!

Emily

is there a rehab for random acts of kindness?

2010-12-05T21:01:00.009-05:00

In honor of the Christmas spirit, I'm trying to hand out compliments as gifts. They're inexpensive, yet priceless, and potentially socially rewarding. I say potentially because my compliments are on crutches, they don’t have the spare hands to bring social rewards to Emily.

For example: last week I was sitting in my cafeteria, drinking tea and studying Spanish, when I spied a classmate walking my way. In his hand he had a wonderful mug. Nice color, tasteful detail on the handle. So I said, "Hello! I like your mug!"

He held it up with pride, "Thanks. Only 50 cents!"

"Well that's great!" I held my mug up, sloshing tea, " My mom made mine for me!"

"Oh..." He held his mug (a great 50 cent deal, but obviously lacking love) with less pride.

And he left, with a crippled compliment feebly clutching at his heels before curling up to die.

I did not anticipate that turn of events. I bet if I let my mind catch up with my words, this wouldn’t happen to me. So, that was the end of that.

But, I have gotten better since. So far I have successfully praised three shoulder bags, a personality and a pair of shoes. I also told the plumber who unplugged our shower that he was the "unsung hero of our campus."

I wish I could retract that commendation though; those poetic words were wasted. After the plumber left, the problem was far from fixed. In fact, one shower later, mud and gunky water was bubbling out of the pipes. Currently, a slough of stagnant water is ripening in our shower. My roommate and I tried ‘cleaning’ by spraying a "natural and environmentally friendly" disinfectant into the pool. We didn't catch that the scent is "thyme and lemongrass.” And the lesson is: if you’re looking for a scent to accent mold, choose Thyme. Until the shower really gets fixed, I plan on tossing some baby amphibians into the sludge and tell the guests we’re conducting a science experiment.

Speaking of compliments, they have hit the net in the form of Like A Little. My school has just caught on (took ‘em a couple months). It’s an anonymous flirting site for college campuses. I’ve been checking up on my college’s posts. The first couple days were fascinating. The next, perturbing. Now I’m concerned. To clarify: I’m concerned about the sincere posts. In the spirit of fun and games, it’s cute. As a serious dating tool though...

It’s the anonymity that bothers me. It’s all so sneaky– cowardly. Brother, if you got your eye on that lady– grow a pair and talk to her. If you bite the dust, take it like a man. Personally, I could never use the site. No cutting corners with that anonymous stuff. If a fellow catches my attention, I prefer to look them in the eye and give them fair warning. They usually appreciate the 10 second head start. It baffles me that I am single.

Granted, being anonymous would make my life a lot easier. I could dodge ownership of all those nice words gone awry. And I could get things off my chest like: HI! I haven't showered since THURSDAY! Love, Anon. Life would be! ... really boring. Names and faces and all these blunders keep my days feisty.

So, back to work. It's the last week of classes, which means crunch time (which means I'm finding everything else to do besides homework. I crocheted a hat. I’m halfway through Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. And I wrote this blog. And I’m 0 words closer to finishing my 1010 word essay, due tomorrow!).

The bright side is that I do all my studying at the library. I had forgotten that I love going to the library! There was hope for my academic life when I remembered that my favorite smell is old books. Then I remembered a scent I like even more– motor oil. Academics– I’m not good at this game.

On that note, as finals approaches, I'd just like to remind my momma that grades are not an indication of success. In fact, "Creative people tend to do worse on grades at each level of schooling, yet their success measures can be very high in their fields." According to Paul Kimelman (a wise man). This is great news!

God bless,

Emily

Time, Oozing into the Future.

2010-11-20T00:52:00.008-05:00

The week before Thanksgiving break. Anticipation has checked me into Hotel California. Extra days are cropping up in the calender and some hours never end. I try to bear in mind that I am wishing my life away, but then I realize that’s not working either. Despite all my wishing, I’m still here, wanting to be there. I’ve made a mental note for once I get there, to feel ashamed of myself. Can’t wait!

There are other factors in my anxiety this week. I’ve been reading BBC faithfully, particularly the science section. It’s disturbing. Trapping anti-matter atoms. Alien planets. Our cannibalistic galaxy. All the things I love about Science Fiction, and the fiction is draining away. My favorite far-out ideas are in peril of becoming old news, marvels bulldozed by progress. I’m being forced into a corner with fantasy. And even that is getting claustrophobic. In the beginning of the week, my roommate and I discovered that the Narwhale is not a myth. Unicorns of the sea; they exist. My faith in the power of imagination is shaken.

I can’t wait to get there: 3:10 on a Monday. Home. Checks on the to-do list.

I’ve been passing the time watching movies. Initially, I simply wanted to relax with a film. I chose The Pianist. (I pronounce this the Pee-A-as-in-cat-nest. I get to sound like a hick and avoid, “What, you watched The PENIS?”) and Persepolis and The Perfect Man.

First of all: The Pianist and Persepolis are wonderful films. Point of clarification: if you’re looking to relax, the holocaust and islamic revolution are not ideal film topics. Anxiety antidote- not so much. But, grit your teeth, get in the zone, and watch those movies.

No matter what the state of mind, Hilary Duff is never okay. So why The Perfect Man? ...I have no excuse. It's been on of those weeks when I realize I'm not as cool as I think I am

Quick change the topic!

There’s to-do list:

Train Bingley to pull me on a longboard.

Cruise with Bing for miles.

Make mountains out of molehills and shake an icebox over ‘em.

Ride/ ski down ice-boxed molehills.

Or go to Gore.

Gateway!

Hang out with my family.

Hang out with my friends.

Hang out with my car. (aka tune-up date)

Sunrise hike!

Two sunrise hikes!

Sunrise hikes multiplying like bunnies!

I’m bringing a Thanksgiving attitude (and appetite) to this list. Also, pottery throughout. I intend to stock JC Penney with dishware and make bank.

Almost there.

Passing the time: I just finished watching Children of Men. Another great movie that I will feel better about in 2027 when I have seven or twelve happy babies toddling around. Clive Owen, I don’t need you. Then again, with all this fiction into fact crisis, what do I know?

Tomorrow the roommate and I are watching Harry Potter! At nine in the morning. This week-end doesn’t have a chance. It'll be out of here, but probably not before I know it.

-Emily

PeePee & SoulSista

2010-11-06T21:21:00.009-04:00

Summer has been on my mind today. It’s a little ironic because I am all about winter. Since the middle of October I have refused to dress for anything less than a blizzard. An uncomfortable decision during the North Shore’s balmier days, but I’m hoping the heavenly store-houses laid up with snow will appreciate my support.

Maybe winter will ease this itch. I have not been able to write, speak, wrestle it out– it’s burrowed mazes in my mind and I can’t catch it.

I spent most of my summer tooling around Upstate NY playing in the dirt; the flower girl for a landscaping company. I never changed my shorts and spent a lot of time fending off questions from senior citizens:

Yes, I am old enough to have a license.

It is hot enough for me, thank you.

Keep your foot stool, I can get in the truck just fine.

The fertilizer won’t kill your dog, but if you don’t keep it out of the flowers, I might.

And I settled into the routine. Days blended together. I worked a lot and, most of the time, alone.

It was refreshing, at first, when I fell behind on the petunias and PeePee would work with me on the flower route. A fifty year old black man, PeePee was an entertaining mix of crotchety and mischievous. He’d picked up his nickname because, as a tyke, he couldn’t hold it. He dubbed me SoulSista. I tried to correct him, at his age “SoulGranchild” was more accurate, but he pshawed me and SoulSista stuck.

We worked well together, bantering and bickering while we pulled weeds. He taught me how to heave an appropriately pained sigh as we passed the burnt lawns and introduced me to all the back roads in Saratoga. As far as I was concerned, PeePee and SoulSista made a good flower crew until the day I forgot my lunch. We made a pit-stop at my house and my mom came out to say hello. PeePee looked at me. Looked at my mom. Looked at my mom.

“That’s yo momma?”

Oh no he didn’t.

“We should probably come back here and have lunch with her.”

I suddenly didn’t mind being a solo act. Actually, it was a little appealing. PeePeeople piss me off.

Emily, the Lone Ranger. Sure she drives a 1998 One-Ton Chevy that has no air conditioning, but so what? Horses don’t have air conditioning either and she can roll the windows down to let the wind through her hair. And who needs a lasso when there’s a watering hose?

That was the end of my search for company. The answer was not there.

I was probably restless because by the end of the day I was a raisin, sun-drained of energy. I would shuffle home and ease into a chair, making plans to go for a run, watch a movie, make some dinner, write a novel, save some puppies...after I... rested.... my eyes...

I would come to and find my afternoon had been shiested by a rogue nap.

The months eased by. I cycled through work and sleep. PeePee never came over again. I couldn’t step on the cracks in sidewalks.

My memory snags on one day, late in June.

After work, rather than planning myself into a coma, I escaped. I went to my favorite beach on the Sacandaga. It was a little crowded and it smelled like dog poop. Good thing this isn’t a romantic memory.

The day was charming. The sky was close and terrifically blue. I pressed my hand against the canopy and pulled my palm away, stained with summer. When the light falls on the earth, golden and rich, when the shadows are gentle and the mountains straighten up and flirt with the clouds and the earth is a swell of color and harmony, I find myself.

As I fall into habits and routine, it slips my mind that I am crowded with secrets and decisions and grit. Myself in discord, in disguise. Meanwhile secrets rub together, wear themselves down, file their restraints thin. Then the facade falls away when I come in contact with harmony, with a perfect sky. There I'm not. Uncovered, I split open. Undone, the gore of things better left unsaid spills. Stripped of their mystery under the summer sun. Pathetic scraps, not secrets. My life, a dreary clutter. And then I know myself. All the cracks in the sidewalk.

Sometimes people say, like it’s a great thing, “I found myself and it was awesome!” I don’t get it. When I get the chance to shut my eyes and see the mirror, the facts are so brutal I bleed.

The itch, the restlessness. At the end of the day it cannot be soothed by company or chased out by seasons. I, perpetually ready for a change of scenery, move on.

-Emily

1,000 words I regret

2010-11-04T15:27:00.010-04:00

Remember when I said I was going to tend to this blog more? I wrote that nearly three weeks ago and haven't looked at this site since.

There is good news: I have been tussling with some pieces. Promise of updates!

There is bad news: Upon logging into this site for the first time in several weeks, the picture of my new haircut scared the crap out of me. What was I thinking? Feel free to call me Gossamer.

I cannot stress this enough: I welcome critical feedback, in all forms. Comment on poetry, prose, and next time I put a photo up like that, resort to violence. Save me from myself. Yikes.

-Emily

Nurturing the sense of adventure

2010-10-15T19:48:00.004-04:00

one hairstyle at a time.

Speaking of nurturing, I'm going to start tending to this blog more often-- fill it with more than just feelings and stanzas. Keep your eyes out! This has risen from my decision to cut back on Facebook. If you like yakkin' with me, it's time to get my number.

Anyway, here is what I was talking about with hair.

The hair stylist said it was "her favorite cut EVER!" and Dad says I look like Paul McCartney. You win some, you lose some. My thoughts: I didn't know I had that face. But it's growing on me. Change is good.

ADK's- I hope the week-end is treating you well, rain and all.

Gordon- Have a wonderful break guys, I'll catch you in Quad 2.

God bless,

Untitled (rough draft)

2010-09-14T19:49:00.006-04:00

I am on fire

I threw my fists into a mountain

broke into a thousand pieces and weeping

watched colossal rock

groan

shudder

split open

split to her roots

Weeping I peered in

to the dark

heart of the earth.

I have opened my mouth

listened to the talk that spilled

until the word horde was drained.

Uncapped, an agony burst

a groan untamed by expression

gave voice to the unspeakable parts

of myself.

I am split open.

I am consumed.

It resonates in my bones

the weight of one thousand languages

tens of thousands of meanings.

And weeping

I am reborn

far from safety.

(?)

2010-03-26T22:35:00.014-04:00

Fingers pressed against the walls
fragile conglomeration

of cracks and splits

we have structured

with (in)

ourselves

dust feathers on our fingers.

brittle walls crumble

ponderously

we pull our heavy limbs out

from beneath the press

of what we know

we pass out

(of)

our constraints

we are free

( ?)

the unfamiliar snarls
our limbs
with fear
we move slowly

probing fingers

touching a picture

of what lies ahead

we move

(for)

(to)

ward

those fingers

paint a picture
show our empty hands
as mirrors
see our hearts

Here is

the heart

of all

our troubles

we can(not)

see.

Are You my BFF? Round 1

2010-02-18T13:55:00.012-05:00

Today I was trying to strike up a conversation with the guy sitting next to me in class. Since we were fixing to discuss Karl Marx and communism, I asked him if he'd seen the movie Metropolis, a 1920's silent film all about raging against the machine.

He said, "That was Hitler's favorite movie."

Of course it was.

I said, "Oh, well what can I say, I have good taste!"

And he sai-- oh, my bad. This is the part where I welcome the star of the rest of this conversation, Awkward Silence!

Thanks for joining me in this moment of: "Making friends: Fail!"

Till next time!

-Emily

A Boast.

2010-02-10T00:40:00.007-05:00

And I said, "My strength and hope

is perished from the Lord."

Remembering my affliction,

the wormwood and the gall.

My soul hath them still in remembrance

And is humbled in me.

Yet, this I recall to my mind

therefore I have hope.

It is of the Lord's mercies

that we are not consumed,

because His compassions fail not.

They are new every morning

(great is Thy faithfulness)

The Lord is my portion, saith my soul,

Therefore I will hope in Him.

Lamentations 3:18-24

I don't know how many times a heart can break

Before it shatters.

I don't know how much crying it takes

Before the eyes are drained.

I don't care if, in my lifetime, I find out.

The source of my supply is not

circumstances or situations.

your good opinion.

the perfect job

handsome boy

healthy body

Circumstances have broken my bones

broken my heart.

Still, it is the Lord who is my portion,

saith my soul.

Therefore I will hope in Him.

Algasp...most.... there!

2009-12-13T11:01:00.001-05:00

Something about finals week, I always get sick. I call it the whine flu.

"There's so much work to do... 27 pages of papers... 50 chapters of reading... 3 tests to study for...." and then I put on some B.B. King and mope and study.

This week has been a little bit like an enormous mountain, but I've almost reached the peak. I can kind-of peep over the top and see winter break ahead.

That's exciting. But, I'm not going to get ahead of myself. There's hours of tests and studying ahead.

So, status as of right now: I'm looking forward to looking forward to freedom!

-Emily

You are Here (X)

2009-10-29T23:43:00.011-04:00

The generation is distended

With identity crises and heartbreak,

Passion and humor corrupted.

Those who experience suffering

Outside the grip of sensationalism

Welcome the sharp finger of grief

Settling over their lips; sealing their words.

(Better than joining the ranks

Of those prostituting themselves

To sorrow.)

Sheltered among secrets

The silence festers

The memories

Become grotesque

(Hurts are particular about voice,

Preferring to be either so loud

They sound ridiculous

Or not heard at all)

As the weight becomes oppressive

A cry for help is reduced to whimpers

Mixed into the brine

Of the groan

Of the age.

And lost.

Diminish

2009-09-26T17:47:00.009-04:00

Standing abandoned on this vast plane.

(What adjectives can describe

a heart that is breaking

from the weight

of its own loneliness? )

I searched.

Shuffling through my

schedule

emotions

relationships

memories

plans

Frantically.

“God where are You?”

Energy spent, I collapsed.

From my knees, face to the ground

The search continued

And I found I’d been looking too hard.

Expecting to find Him on my scale

it wasn't until the balance changed

and face-down, I could see

I hadn’t found Him because there was too much me.

As I considered my surroundings,

The swells and ridges

The firm, scarred ground I knelt on.

I was struck with how inadequate my dimensions were.

Not nearly enough to comprehend His presence.

He had been there.

A giant invisible only because of his great size,

The whole time feeling stranded,

I was searching in the palm of His hand

Only as far as in His very grasp.

Diminish

Melt down,

Re-calibrate

Re-shape

Is there anything great that is not in You?

And he hath made my mouth like a sharp sword;

in the shadow of his hand hath he hid me, and made me a polished shaft;

in his quiver hath he hid me; and said unto me,

thou art my servant, O Israel, in whom I will be glorified.

Then I said, I have laboured in vain, I have spent my strength for nought, and in vain:

yet surely my judgment is with the Lord, and my work with my God.

...Yet shall I be glorious in the eyes of the Lord

and my God shall be my strength.

Isaiah 49:2-5

Dear Fall: Greetings!

2009-09-16T20:08:00.004-04:00

Today was the first fall day at Gordon! The campus was so beautiful with a tree or two starting to change and the air had a crisp October feeling. I was outside soaking it in, finally enjoying a walk where I wasn’t drowning in sweat. Also along the lines of personal appearance, I embodied the season (if I do say so myself) as I strolled along the sidewalk; coffee in one hand and an apple in the other. The autumn-colored scarf draped around my neck buffered the breeze, which stylishly blew through my hair. Oh yes. I was grand.

Then I got a piece of apple stuck in my teeth.

It takes a little invention and flexibility to floss with the tongue. I can only imagine how picturesque my face was while I tried probing the stupid fruit chunk out. I think I pulled a muscle in my cheek.

I guess with all these changes, the new school, new friends, new mattress, new (and horrifying) roads, I didn’t change into a new Emily. One who doesn’t get food stuck in her teeth, or grumble to herself while she walks between classes (I just noticed this today, now I know why I get the funny looks), or trip on the acorns and her own feet. Come to think of it, in the month that I’ve been here the only new thing I’ve really noticed is that I’m getting scoliosis from the weight of my book bag. It’s great though, I’ve always wanted to be more curvy!

But, it’s still early. I have a few more years to go. It will be interesting to see how things will change. What sort of relationships will I develop? What kind of memories are going to be made? What career am I going to launch into? Am I going to stop snorting when I laugh hard?

As much as I’d love to know now, I’m trusting that things will begin to fall into place as time goes on; I’m just praying for the wisdom to see opportunities (and the opportunity to make opportunities) as they arise. Until then my game plan remains: keep at the studying and no more eating apples in public.

-Em

Road tripped.

2009-09-08T21:53:00.010-04:00

Here's a taste of my morning as I was trying to get back to school after an awesome labor day week-end with my family.

5:07- Wake up 52 minutes late

5:18- Hustle the final things into the car

5:22- Get car on the road to school

5:27- Flip car onto lawn

5:28- Climb out of car.

5:29- Wake up neighbors yelling at self/ kicking car roof.

5:32- Call dad. (uh oh)

5:36- Dad shows up.

....sobbing intermission....

5:48- Flip car right side up.

5:56- Drive car back home

6:13- Unpack wrecked car

6:32- Repacked into mom's car.

6:46- On the road, Gordon bound

(The next 4 hours to school were spent mourning my poor, poor toyota. It wasn't cut out for cartwheels.)

Oh life... it comes at you fast.

Define

2009-08-29T00:15:00.006-04:00

What would a word be

Without a definition?

Something to give it meaning;

Comprehensible, useful, beautiful.

(Who am I without God?)

That hunger, ache, that emptiness

Relentlessly I try to plug,

fill

seal

But I cannot find the words to define it.

Numb it with liquor?

(Every bottle has its bottom)

Fill it with things?

(There are not enough Mercedes Benz on this earth.)

A good inhale of THC?

(Every high has its low.)

That boy?

(He can take me to 10, but my curfew is at 11.)

No matter what I throw myself into

There is no satisfaction.

And so I delve;

I dig and weep

Uproot and search

And the cries of my heart

are answered.

Adonai, Elohim, Father of Lights, Champion of my heart;

Jesus.

His name; coded into my very heart-call,

His words only could fill that void

His is the power to define,

And not only to define, but to re-define.

So great is my need that

Nothing held back

I throw myself into Him

Recklessly.

I am consumed.

Hunger has such a sweet source.

The Artist's Lot

2009-04-28T20:18:00.000-04:00

Here’s to the volcanic events
That created the barren islands
(stumbling, ugly geography) in my memories.

Once, those ominous structures were corrosive;
I could not look at them without the edges of my eyes peeling.
Salted medicines intended to balm
The wounds were inadequate against the fierce pain.

I used all my natural defenses to protect myself,
But it was not enough.
The islands were too near
My hands and knees are scarred from their razor rocks.

I struggled on the islands until time
Passed through, and though it didn’t heal all wounds
It did pull me away, gently, from their pain.
Distance became my greatest ally.

Finally, gradually, I completely separated
Drifting out of those keen waters
I moved on to new lands, new events
(though, if I paid attention, the islands were always on the horizon).

Recently, I wandered back into their territory.
It took me some time to get my bearings
Because what once was barren was now coursing with life.

I climbed onto the shore
And the rich green edges bit (ever so slightly) into me
And only then did I recollect that hurt.

I soon realized that the teeth of the islands had dulled.
The reminiscent ache was there,
But the pain that germinated
Was something I could hold in my hands.

I shaped my sorrows into stones
Built memorials, bridges, stepping stones, with them.
No longer are my islands separated.

I come and go as I please,
Taking from their rich, grief-watered gardens,
These bitter-sweet fruits, (unique to my islands)
and share them with you.

Minus the High Praise

2009-01-08T12:20:00.000-05:00

Here, ready for the epiphany

Instead presented with the challenge of a eulogy,

Minus the high praise.

Oh for paper hearts.

That our lives would be set in ink;

Lived through paragraphs and chapters

Painted in sentences.

Instead, we are flesh,

Beating against the paper,

Rebelling against the formation of the stories.

There are pages to be filled,

Unfinished details.

A gift and a curse,

Nothing is set.

The author of this novel has given us a choice;

The pen submitting to our wishes,

Recording the days according to our actions.

Form the words.

Create the endings.

And now, presented with the challenge of a eulogy,

Minus the high praise.

Dawn

2009-01-08T12:09:00.000-05:00

Twilight takes a slow pull on its cigar
Releases a long exhale over night
Rolls out a smokey carpet
A sweet-dew scent
To welcome
Dawn

Rhymes and Reasons

All dressed up and going to the grocery store

First Snowfall!

Adjective of Emily's week-month-..life?

Back to [the business of] the future.

Knowledge Fetched Shadows

A brief relocation

is there a rehab for random acts of kindness?

Time, Oozing into the Future.

PeePee & SoulSista

1,000 words I regret

Nurturing the sense of adventure

Untitled (rough draft)

(?)

Are You my BFF? Round 1

A Boast.

Al*gasp*...most.... there!

You are Here (X)

Diminish

Dear Fall: Greetings!

Road tripped.

Define

The Artist's Lot

Minus the High Praise

Dawn

Algasp...most.... there!