Not the Best Week of My Life

I may or may not have ever covered this, but I suffer from major depression. It's undiagnosed because I've never been to see a doctor for a handful of reasons:

1. I hate talking about my issues.
2. I tend to figure I'm good enough at uncovering my psychoses that I don't need someone else to tell me what they are.
3. I am terrified of being medicated, which I am strangely convinced that I will be should I decide to go see a psychiatrist.
4. I have this strange (not terribly uncommon) concept that if I go see a psychiatrist people will come to conclusions about me, most of which would probably be true, and it would break my "I've totally got all my shit together" image that I've worked so hard for so long to maintain.
5. I dislike admitting that I have issues I can't work out on my own, even though it's been obnoxiously apparent for a very, very long time.

So, regardless of how many times I have announced that I'm going to go make myself see a psychiatrist/counselor, regardless of how many times I've decided that I'm going to go get help, I haven't because I know that I simply won't ever actually  make myself do it. Because I can't. I can't make myself do it when it comes down to it. I probably need somebody to go with me to force me to actually commit. Because if I start I'll go through it. But starting is the problem.
But I don't want to ask anybody to go with me, either.  I did anyway--just now. One of the girls that lives on my floor (in the other wing) also has clinical depression and actually is medicated for it. We talked about it yesterday so I just asked her if she would go over with me tomorrow after film class. Just... because I know I won't actually do it on my own.
This is so much harder than you can imagine. Like, seriously, it's so hard. I just... I hate it. All of it. I want to cry. I very well might cry. I did repeatedly yesterday. Just a little bit every time, but nonetheless.

It sucks being broken. It sucks being depressed. It sucks sitting in the middle of class or work thinking to yourself that there's just no freaking point to any of it anymore. My mom broke the last string on Monday when I called her. She didn't do it on purpose and I don't know that I really blame her. But she snapped the string that dropped me back into this sea of shit. And I can't do it anymore. I just can't.  I don't have it in me.

I'm not "suicidal" in the manner that I would never actually legitimately consider doing it--especially not after losing my brother two years ago.  I couldn't possibly do that to my family and friends. Not again. Not to mention the fact that I have absolutely no interest in dying; I have too much shit to do, thank you. But I won't deny that the thought ran through my mind. And that's not okay. That's one of the indicators that I finally have no choice but to get help.
If you're suddenly worried about me, you really don't need to be. I am stronger than the demons in my head. I always have been. I went through this at least once in high school, too, and guess who's still here. Just because there's a voice in my head that tells me something doesn't mean that I actually listen to it. I am just plagued by it. And the time has come to cope with some of my shit.

I would like to know who decided I should have to cope with this shit. I would like to know who got to make the executive decision that my head should be a complete fucking wreck. Because I would love to punch them in the fucking neck. Seriously. Maybe share some of this shit.

Do you guys have any idea what it's like to hate having grown numb to things that you can't handle feeling for extended periods of time? The pain I know I feel from the loss of my brother has become a massive scar, protecting me from the great pit of suffering that I had been suspended in two years ago because no body can maintain that kind of sorrow that long. It's just not possible. I think we would grow quite mad with it. At least I feel I probably would have. So I have grown numb to it. But you have no idea how frustrating that is when I finally want to just sit down and let that pain wash over me and I can't. I can't feel it. I know it's there, and I know that I feel that pain, but I can't... Access it. And that's when I want my body to hurt so that I can find somewhere to focus that pain, somewhere to focus that sorrow. Somewhere to feel hurt. I have never hurt myself, but I want to so much. Like you just don't even know.

I HATE this life sometimes, more than most of you could ever understand. There are those among you who have definitely suffered as much as, if not worse than, I have, and I get that. It's not like I think I've got the worst life ever. But my life has heretofore been immensely unfortunate and it's so hard to accept or work around sometimes. How do you look on your childhood favorably when all you remember is being oppressed by your peers? When all you remember is secluding yourself as much as possible just to avoid your classmates? When all that you remember is being made fun of for wanting to learn, for wanting to read, for wanting to progress? It wasn't all bad, obviously; they didn't all suck, and not all the time. But... Nonetheless.

So there it is. I'm psychologically damaged and can no longer do it alone. My boyfriend is supportive, which helps. My best friends are all behind me getting help, which is also helpful. I didn't really realize just how important that kind of visible support could be. My heart may hurt, but I do have the support necessary to get through it.  My parents... I dunno. My parents are supportive, but they just aren't here. You know? They're too far away to really... be as much help as I really want/need them to be, and that's not their fault, it's mine. Because I'm the one that chose to move here. And I'm not moving back. But I definitely welcome winter break with open arms. I am going to play with a baby and read as much as possible. I need it.

I need a vacation--from myself as much as from everything else.

My tattoos tell a story. They tell my story, but almost more than that. My existing tattoo is for my brother, but it's symbolic of more than just my loss; it also represents the love that I have for family, etc. and tells a handful of other stories that are difficult to articulate. It says that I won't let go, that I won't forget, that I'll hold on. It says that I'll love him through memory because he's no longer here to love. Not to mention all of the stories that I'll never tell, refuse to share, can't share, for whatever reason. I can't share my entire life with you, nor would I ever want to.

But Matthew and I were practically twins, and being without him for the past two years has been nothing short of excruciating.  I play cavalier, big tough girl who just copes because there is no other choice; but I hurt. I hurt indelibly and I doubt there will ever be a time when that part of my heart doesn't hurt.

Sometimes I want to go in and have the tattoo gone back over to make physical that pain, to give it somewhere to manifest so that I can actually feel it.
Because I hate growing numb. I hate knowing that I feel things that I can no longer truly FEEL. I know I'm sad, and that it hurts, but I can't feel it anymore, and you can't understand how much that bothers me. It's a blessing, of course, but it's also a curse.

How would it make you feel, to know that you've grown incapable of feeling things? To know that you've grown numb in self-defense? Would that bother you? I don't LIKE being hard; I don't LIKE being callous. I don't like being broken. I want all of this to end, but it won't. It can't. It can never end because Matthew can never, ever come back into my life. And that makes me so sad that I can barely live with myself.

But yet, if I still did feel all of that pain, if I did still have to live with all of that every single day of my life, I would go insane, or I would wither away and die. Because my body simply couldn't take it. There comes a point in sorrow where it turns to physical pain, where emotional trauma begins to have side effects. It is good that my body has boxed it away and forgotten, but I still long for that pain because I need it to validate my continuation through life. I need it. I... I can't... be okay with not... feeling it.

I am so broken.

But I refuse to let this be the end of me. I will carry on and I will be all that I was meant to be, regardless of what I’ve lost, regardless of what I will inevitably lose. I am who I am because of tragedy and because of untouchable fate. It may shape me, but it will not define me, and it will not stop me.

Life may owe us nothing, and we may owe life everything we’ve got and more, but there is truth in this: It cannot screw me forever; at some point or another, there has to be a break in the storm, a clearing in the woods, a day without homework. I pray for monotony on the basis that it may allow me a moment long enough to recollect my courage, recollect my faith and my patience to continue the fight through turmoil.

My tattoos will tell that story, but inarticulately. Passersby will not look at the ink on my body and know that my life is pain. Passersby will see something else, because I allow them to. Because I force them to. Because I allow art to be arbitrary until you're in the know.

I am currently planning 2 more for the near future. One is small and simple, cute: an outline of a baby elephant holding its mother's tail; and might go on the inside of my wrist or heel--haven't decided. The other is an anchor with a rope that forms a loosely-adapted infinity sign with "Hebrews 6:19" etched into the length of the anchor. "We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure."

Life is full of hurdles, hoops and obstacles, but our path is forever calling us, forever begging us to carry forward. My stumbles and my detours will not forever deter me from the ultimate goal ahead. I will have my life, and I will live it well.

Nonfiction Prompted Writing

So I've been taking a class called The Art of Writing Nonfiction and we have to write all of these essays and shit and like. I dunno. I keep writing these little. autobiographical pieces.
Like this:

"Looking back on the course of my life, it strikes me how very little I genuinely remember. I view much of my past as though looking through a wax-paper window. Details are hazy; speech is garbled into foreign languages that I couldn't possibly understand but a few words of. And so the search for clear memories begins and suddenly I can't remember whether my memory of falling into the campfire in South Dakota is entirely mine or pieced together from the stories my parents told. Do I actually remember tripping and falling in? Do I ACTUALLY remember being snatched out and having a five-gallon jug of water poured unceremoniously over my head and then drug over to the nearest yard light to be inspected for burns? Or have I just heard the story recounted enough times to allow my imagination to fill in the rest?

"And while I think about all of these things, it occurs to me just how goddamn vacant I have allowed myself to be my whole life. I am never fully present. I am never fully invested in what I'm doing RIGHT NOW. And does that bother me? The answer to that question could never be anything but yes. Of course it bothers me. I have spent my life insisting to people that I am mature and involved, observant and immensely analytic. To an extent, none of these are lies... at least until I try to remember what my life has been like. We have pictures of single moments in time, but I look at these pictures of my life, of events that should stand out to me, and I remember nothing but flashes of faces, flashes of scenes that mean nothing in larger context and nothing to me. Why do they stand out over the things that actually meant anything? Why do I remember how the audience was arranged at my second-grade spring concert but not where my family was? Why do I remember the things that I remember versus the things that I WANT to remember?
"In part, I blame my classmates in my early years of school for making life so miserable that I didn't pay attention to anything they did or anything that was going on around me. It didn't matter what was going on--I wasn't likely to be included anyway.

"So here's what I do remember: I remember playing in the mud with my little brother, playing out some nonsensical fantasy story about bubblegum, and I remember my mom hosing us off in the backyard. I remember how piercingly cold that water was and the way that it felt like razors sluicing through my skin.
"I remember coming home from Kindergarten one day to find Matthew sitting on the couch with his hand wrapped in a really bulky hand towel, suggesting something between the towel and my four-year-old brother's hand. My mother whisked me out to the wheat field to ride around in a combine with my dad so that she could take my brother to the hospital for stitches. Perhaps he'd already gotten them; I guess I don't remember that anymore. I remember seeing a long, dark pink line curved along the length of his finger and tied together with black cord in seven hard little knots. I no longer remember that scar, and this saddens me greatly.
"I remember sitting in a salmon-pink--"two-toned brown!" Matthew always insisted exasperatedly, never willing to give in to my assertion that he drove a pink truck--Ford pickup outside of the grocery store while my brother cried about cringing because kids from school raised their hands to wave at him while I was buying fruit snacks. I remember being confused and concerned and sad for my baby brother, who had been treated even worse by his peers than I had been by mine. But I don't remember what he was wearing that day or what his hair looked like or what he said when I told him that he needed to eat my Veggie Tales fruit snacks because it was purely impossible to be sad while eating Veggie Tales fruit snacks; it's just a fact.
"I remember that Matthew came into my bedroom at midnight on October 9 of 2010. I remember that he tried to talk to me about something, probably the Resident Evil movie he'd seen with a friend that night. I don't remember what he said to me. I do remember brushing him off and trying to get rid of him. I can't remember if he tried to hug me goodnight before he left, try as I might. And I can't remember if I hugged him. I imagine that, if I did, it was dismissively, in order to get rid of him so that I could return to whatever inconsequential nonsense I was entertaining online at the time."


I will continue writing this later. I can't take the next step tonight.

--Emily

Ugh.

It has come to my attention the last few days that I'm beginning another depression cycle. I'm pretty sure I've explained the way that my depression functions before. I cycle through it. Sometimes I'm really good and then I go back on a downswing and I'm screwed for however long it takes. The last couple cycles haven't even been overwhelming sadness/sorrow either. The last few have been mostly apathy, and they've been brutal.
Spring semester, I didn't go to my comp 2 class for like, a month and a half. Okay, so I went like, 3 times. But still. That doesn't count. The WORST part about that is that I was writing a huge paper on the misdiagnoses of psychological disorders in adolescents in America. Ironic, no? I was unappreciative.

Anyway.

So I'm pretty sure I'm cycling again. And it makes me REALLY cranky. I was hoping to pull off a few more months before that kicked back in.  And I think that this time I actually have to take the advice of my peers and compatriots--can I say that? Is that a word? Whatever--and go talk to a counselor. I don't know if the university even HAS that type of counselor. =/
And for real, as embarrassing as it is for me to admit this, especially NOW, I still cringe at the thought of seeing a therapist/counselor. I cringe. Every time. I don't want to. I really don't want to. I don't want to have to explain the shit I've got flying through my head because so much of it I can't explain. Some of this shit is strung together with my literature and my reading material and then it doesn't make any sense at all. I just. ugh.

This is what I wrote in my notebook the other day during American Government because I completely drifted off and away from the topic at hand (because he was kinda babbling): "Some days I wake up to the futility of life and I briefly lose my purpose. [...] Some days my brain latches onto the idea that everything--especially the religion to which I am so attached--could be an intimate, convoluted lie designed by those cunning minds that see power and seize it in order that they may guide and control our lives for their pleasure."

Uhhhhh... yeah. I think I should go talk to somebody. Maybe. Just a thought.



Anyway. That's all.

--Emily Mell

I have returned!

First off: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKK!!!!! XD
Because: Blaqk Audio's sophomore album comes out tomorrow!!!!!  It's called Welcome to Bright Black Heaven and I really don't think you guys have ANY concept of how bloody excited I am for this. If I could go somewhere at midnight to acquire this disk I would do so. But the only place around here would be Walmart and they sure as hell won't have it. It definitely won't take midnight-stocking priority anyway. So I'll wait until I'm done with classes at 4 (or 5 or 6, depending upon whether or not I'll need to stay for the second movie for my film class) and then drive my fidgety ass to Hot Topic and buy my glorious piece of plastic inscribed with sound waves and decorated with the loveliness that is this band. =D
Why am I not posting this on my other blog? Why because I'll post ABOUT the album tomorrow! =D
I'm double-timing you. Don't take it personally. But I'm bloody excited and want all y'all to know, okay? Jeez. Relax.

Second: I'm officially in my 4th week of classes here at Grand Forks. Here's a dissertation:

I live in a teeny-tiny room with a little blonde girl from Minnesota. This room is smaller than my room last year, which is... sort of upsetting. And the furniture doesn't move, which also kind of sucks. I mean, it does, but... only some of it, and there's really no point to it.
My room is in a suite with two other rooms, one being a single, so I'm in a complex of 5 girls--all of whom are freshman, ftr--sharing one bathroom. Two sinks, one shower and one bathroom, each in separate rooms.
There are three dining centers plus the coffee shop directly across the street from my dorm. I haven't eaten at the dining center in the union yet. Actually, honestly, I haven't even step FOOT in the union yet.
Oops?

You should know that the food here is actually relatively good. I mean, don't get me wrong: it's cafeteria food. But it's at least palatable. And it doesn't give me deplorable indigestion every time I eat it. Minot did. I'm pretty sure I talked about Minot's food at least once last year. It was awful. I pretty much just quit eating because it never ever ended well. But it's different here. (= I enjoy it. I guess...

I'm taking 19 credits this semester. I'm taking Beginning French 1 (MTWH@10-11), Intro to Logic (MWF@11-12), American Government 1 (TH@11-12.15), Intro to Linguistics (TH@12.30-1.45), Intro to Film (T@2-4; H@2-3) and The Art of Writing Nonfiction (MW@3-4.15). I only have one class on Friday, and I will admit straight up that I have skipped class the last two Fridays in a row. I turned in my homework, though! So at least there's that. I'm not COMPLETELY bad-habiting. Just... mostly.

Seriously, this place makes MSU feel like a freaking community college, and it's not. I mean, it kind of it, but it isn't. I don't want to diminish what goes on in Minot because honestly it's commendable and there are a lot of good things there. But like, holy shit. By the end of my first day of classes here, I had ~100 pages of reading assigned plus other homework. They don't ease you into this shit here, not that they necessarily did in Minot. I dunno; it just feels a lot different. That's not a complaint either, so please don't read it that way.

I think that my Linguistics course is probably my favorite, though. It's just so interesting and I absolutely love it. I can't even explain fully what it is that I love about it. It's the study of language, but it's not the study of literacy. There are some abstract concepts going on here but I just... I love it. It makes me excited.
That right there says that I should probably look into pursuing it but I honestly have no idea what I would do with it, you know what I mean? Like, besides teaching it in a university, what do you DO with a degree in linguistics? So there's that.

Anyway.

Besides all that, there's a Creative Writing Club on Tuesdays in the basement of the Union. I haven't made it to one yet. I had a date the first week I was aware of it and ended up with a Situation when dying my hair last week. But I'm making every effort to get there tomorrow. hahaha.

Right. Date.
Soooooooooooo.... SOMEHOWWWWWWWWWW...... I ended up in a relationship with a friend of mine. And I'm still not entirely certain quite how that happened? But I like it anyway. And I'm not going to get all up into our business just because I'm all... goofy... but I'm definitely aiming for this one to hold out for awhile. Enough of this six-week bullshit, man.
We were derping the internet yesterday and he found this 5-second video about a couple's "one week anniversary" and the guy gave the chick fabric softener cause, you know, she's clingy. Which we thought was hilarious and then instantly segued into "So we just hit a week... what'd you get me?" In jest, obviously.
I enjoy that we are both tactfully blunt people. I enjoy that we're both silly and goofy and derpy and weird and totally hipstery and have things that we're kind of snob-status about and I love that he knows how to CUDDLE. I never thought I would say that, hahaha.
With that... I think I'm going to call quits on the subject because last I knew he still followed my blogs, hahahaha. And... well... (this is embarrassing.) hahaha.

Last week I dyed my hair red. I TRIED to dye it light blonde, but it came out straw yellow. STRAW YELLOW. O_o  Like, that shade of yellow that looks like someone pissed in straw the second you put anything into it or when it's wet. Yeah. That yellow. and that was UNACCEPTABLE. So I dyed it red. Dark red. I like it a lot.
This weekend, my cousin helped me dye the tips of the part that I fauxhawk. It's not a pinkish purple color. I love it. I have to redo the purple though because it was really hard to dye the first time. It'll be easier now. But. yeah. So. Now I have red and fuschia hair and my mom is going to be PISSED this weekend when she sees. Like you don't even know. I'm kind of excited because I think it's funny. (Now... later? Probably not so much.)
Anyway. I'm also pretty much done with my hair being super short like this. I'm going to grow it out. Which... of course... begs the question of "why the fuck did you DYE it then" but whatever. Don't make me demonstrate logic.
"But you're taking a class on--"
"Shhhhh. Shh. Shut up."

Ahem.
Anyway.

So that's what I've got. I have a ton of homework to do for tomorrow but I don't want to do it. I need/want to go for a run but not in the sun and not without my Galaxy Player, which is currently deader than a doornail. I would babble at you in French but I don't have the right keys and I don't feel like doing the accents off the letters. So you'll just have to go without I guess.

Kay bye!
--Emily Renae

Vacation!!

August 4, 2012

So my grandparents took my parents and me on a cruise to Alaska this week. It is currently the end of Saturday, August 4, 2012, and I have been on this ship since noon(ish). It’s beyond amazing. It’s euphoric. Honestly, it still feels super unreal, like any second somebody’s gonna jump out and yell PSYCH!

Even though I know that nobody will because Hot Damn I’m On A Ship.

I have eaten so much already today that it’s absolutely ridiculous. We had lunch shortly after we boarded and I ate pizza and ice cream cones.

You read that correctly. Cones. I am officially a fatass. But do I care? Not a chance. It’s damn good ice cream!!

My parents and I (and eventually my grandparents as well) spent the afternoon exploring the vessel. There’s a fitness center and a spa and a beauty salon—at which I’m getting a pedicure tomorrow, actually =D—and a handful of pools and even more hot tubs and a nightclub (which is now open and probably deserves a visit, though I’m super tired and might not really feel like it much tonight) and hangout rooms for kids in different age groups—including an 18-20 club, though I couldn’t find it tonight when I went looking. Supposedly there was supposed to be a thing for us tonight, but the room I was informed to look in was occupied by karaoke? So I haven’t a clue.

Anyway.

Supper was fabulous and super swanky. I enjoyed it a LOT. Shell pasta with marinara and broccoli and olives and capers(!!!!!) and little strips of chicken, the last of which actually weren’t all that great and kind of detracted from the dish. But anyway. I also got a really lovely spinach and tortellini soup as an appetizer and I enjoyed that, too. And we got desserts. Of COURSE we got desserts! We shared a piece of flourless chocolate cake that was to die for and I ordered a warm passionfruit soufflé with a vanilla custard. That was marvelous as well.

The ship is moving at a really good clip. My dad figures about 40 knots, but that could be an overstatement. Or an understatement. I honestly have no idea how fast a knot is or even if I’m spelling it properly—that’s probably a misspelling—nor any concept of the average speed of a cruise ship. But we’re really goin. The wake created by the ship goes on for at least a mile—and that’s not an exaggeration, which I can say for certain because we followed out a different cruise ship which was leaving a pretty impressive trail.

My parents and I are in a mini suite, so they have a queen-sized bed and I’m on this pullout couch/bed thingy. It kind of sucks, but I’ve slept on worse. It’s okay. I won’t complain. I don’t think it would do any good anyway.

I want to be super-duper lame and just go to sleep. It’s 12.30 a.m. back home and I’ve been waking/getting up the same time as my parents, who have this really awful habit of getting up early, even when they go to sleep late. And it’s dumb because we’re on such a slow schedule. So consequently I’m really tired.

Not to mention the fact that I’ve been traipsing all over this FIFTEEN FLOOR cruise ship all day. Multiple flights of stairs and lots of direct sunlight—which, oddly, zaps a lot of your energy for some reason; I’ve yet to figure out how that makes sense but it’s true—so… I don’t think it’s that unreasonable that I would be tired. But that’s me.

This week is going to be really, really trying for me. I mean, it was bad enough when I couldn’t have my cell phone. Like, I was okay with that because supposedly I was supposed to have internet. I wasn’t going to use it a lot by any means; I mean, come on. There’s too much here to see and do. But still. SOME contact with the outside world would have been kinda nice. I have too many friends I try to keep up with.

Okay, so mostly these days I’ve really only been power-texting one the last several days. But still. I talk to a lot of people.

At least I can keep working on my novel at night and stuff. It’s coming along way too nicely to just… ditch for a week solid, you know? Exactly. Sooooooooo I’m working on it.

I just made a huge alteration in the plot, though, so right now I’m first-draft writing again… I don’t know how much of this I’ll end up keeping and what I’ll scrap. I feel like I might be spending too much time on trivial things.

On the other hand, character development is important.

It’s a really tough line for me.

The ship moving is starting to give me a headache. Maybe that’s sleep deprivation and dehydration. I’m going to say that that’s more likely because the ship’s been rocking and moving all freaking afternoon and it hasn’t been anything for me. I actually kind of like it. I’m just obnoxiously tired.

10.30 (local time) and I want to go to bed. Holy cats. This is so lame. Hahaha.

Maybe… just a nap… yeah… a nap… “13 hours later…” hahahahah.

August 5, 2012

The problem with being 2 hours behind my normal time zone is that my body is still used to it being 2 hours later than it is. And at 2 a.m. tonight, we’re moving back another hour. Uffdah.

So this morning, the first time I woke up, it was 5 a.m. local. I don’t know WHY I was up that damn early, but whatever. I went back to bed. The next time I woke up it was 7 (local) and my parents went to get coffee. I stayed in bed until 8 and then had to get up.

We’re out on the legit ocean now, and the day kinda sucks. It’s cold and windy and misty and the water’s a bit rough. So the boat’s been noticeably tippy and stuff.

I don’t get motion sickness or anything, but my head is still trying to figure out if it’s spinning. It isn’t, of course, but my body knows it’s moving and it’s screwing with my balance. I do have a slight headache, like a clamp on my temples, but it isn’t too bad. Realistically, knowing me, it could very easily be dehydration. It’s just not in my normal dehydration-headache location, which is a band across the bottom of the back of my head. So I dunno.

I went for breakfast with my grandparents; my parents caught up after a little bit. I tried egg Florentine today. I don’t know what it is exactly. It’s an egg cooked a certain way—it’s still super gooey inside and the yolk is def runny—atop an English muffin with what appeared to be Spinach as well. It wasn’t very warm, but I dunno what temp it’s supposed to be, either, hahahaha. Either way it was really good.

I bought a new perfume today: Acqua di Gioia by Giorgio Armani. Was relatively inexpensive. And I like it. My dad likes it too, but my mom doesn’t really. Whatever; I’m not trying to attract my mama. Haha. =P

It’s getting on toward noon now, I guess, though it’s felt like mid-afternoon for the past couple hours already. That’s in part because I’m used to getting up at like, 11 or 12 at home, though, so by the time I’ve been up this long half the day is gone.

And dammit, I like it that way! There’s too much day when you get up at 7. I don’t like it. I mean, I get up at 8 for work and stuff, but like, holy cats.

When did I start saying “holy cats”?? Probably yesterday. This weekend anyway. Ohhhhhhh boy.

Also, I had to rearrange the screens and icons on my galaxy player because I needed a time widget on the front window!! I can’t use my phone and I left my watch at home. Soooooo that leaves two options:

1. Buy a new watch.

2. Use the Galaxy Player.

Since all the watches on this boat are designer and therefore >$150, I’ll skip. Thanks anyway. Some of them are really beautiful, though. Still not buyin’.

I took a nap. Before noon. Do you know what that means? I WAS UP LONG ENOUGH TO HAVE TIME TO NAP BEFORE NOON. O_o

Aye carumba.

Alaskan 18—the weight one gains on the cruise to Alaska. Like the Freshman 15, but in a much shorter amount of time. Hahaha.

This is gonna be one long ass post by the time we’re done here. C’est la vie.

Btw… the pedicure was probably the most amazing thing ever. So relaxing. Foot/ankle/calf massage plus they use a cheese grater (no shit, that’s what it looks like) and take off a bunch of callus. Of course my feet are super ticklish—NOBODY REMEMBER THAT—so rubbing/scraping the dead skin off the bottoms of my feet was embarrassing. Hahaha. My muscles kept twitching and I had to force myself not to keep pulling away.

It just takes self-control. Honestly.

Story time. Right now.

So we’re standing in line for supper tonight, right? It’s a formal night, so everybody’s dressed up and whatnot. And this group with a guy in a wheelchair appears at the junction in the hallway. Now, obviously, they can’t just weave their way around to get to where they need to go, so when the line moved forward, I didn’t move our group so that they’d have room to go past.

The bastards took that as their cue to budge right in.

Like, seriously, I don’t care if you have somebody in a wheelchair, that doesn’t just give you the right to jump right in at the front. Seriously.

Anyway, so I turned around and looked at my mom incredulously, and she’d noticed, and she made a comment like “Well that wasn’t what we’d intended.”

About that time, the maître d’ of the other dining room brought us upstairs and sat us at a table there. I’m pretty sure he was standing behind the group that budged and saw it unfold, but I’m not saying that that’s why he invited us up. I’m just saying that such was the situation.

Supper was fabulous. Just for the record.

We saw an illusionist—apparently this is what we’re calling magicians now—in the theater. That was enjoyable. He was both cute and amusing. And his assistant was super pretty. Go figure. The arm candy was pretty. Lol.

I saw half of the married-couples somethingorother game show. One spouse leaves, the other answers questions; spouse 2 reenters and answers same questions. Answer match-ups yield points. Return process, switch spouses. It was amusing.

I sat in a hot tub and talked politics with a guy from Texas. Not exclusively, but nevertheless. And I swam some laps! Go fitness! My BMP followers will be proud of me.

Hopefully.

Though considering how I’ve been eating on this trip already? Maybe not. Lol.

P.S.—the waves crashing outside sound like somebody’s bass turned way up. I haven’t decided if that’s cool or otherwise.

August 6, 2012

Juneau excursion today!

Ship docked at 11.00 a.m.  We went whale watching at like, 12.30. And for real, even though it was super cold, it was spectacular. They took us out into the Alaska Bay and we actually—I shit you not—got to watch the humpbacks do bubble-net feeding.

I would have to do some more research to give you better specifics about what that is, but here’s the general gist of things:

One humpback takes the lead of a pod and orchestrates things. The whales will dive down really deep and then swim in ascending circles, exhaling as they go up. The exhalations create this ring of bubbles that the fish within that circle get caught in and swim up to the surface. When the whales get close enough to the top, the lead humpback issues the “feed” command and they all go at it.

Our naturalist informed us that seven years ago, they were out on multiple tours every day and only saw bubble-netting twice the entire season. We literally watched this pod of humpbacks bubble-net feed SEVEN TIMES in a row. SEVEN. 

There were approximately thirteen humpbacks in the pod we were observing. We had to move on after 30 minutes because there are laws set in place to protect the animals from feeling harassed that state that ships/boats/etc can only hang around a group for up to 30 minutes. Period.

I’m telling you, it was absolutely incredible. They dropped a microphone down into the water and we got to listen to the whales talking to each other and it was both eerie and beautiful and mesmerizing all at once. It was astounding. I get all worked up just thinking about it. Hahaha. Seriously, though, it was ridiculously amazing.

Also, for the record, the number of incredibly attractive boys leading tours and stuff up here is ridiculous. Our bus driver/tour guide was totally adorable and goofy. The naturalist was also really cute and goofy. I got a picture with him. ;P Actually, almost all of the boys working on the boat (whale watching boat) were really cute. ESPECIALLY the one offering coffee/hot chocolate. Ugh. I need to move to Alaska. Fo’ realz.

Ahem.

After the excursion, we did some shopping and stuff in town (Juneau). We didn’t buy a whole lot, but we did get a few things. Including a really comfy pair of jammie pants and an Alaska hoodie. (Well, I got those. My mom got stuff too. Haha)

OH! And my dad bought us jewelry. He can’t resist sparklies. =3 I love it. So now I have this beautiful London blue topaz ring and I absolutely love it. (It’s also really huge. Hahaha) My mom got a necklace/ring set of Northern Lights topaz and we bought a Christmas gift for a particular member of my family whom I won’t mention because I don’t know who reads this and it’s a gift! So there.

But it was also super-duper pretty. =]

I wasn’t feeling very well that night though so I went to bed early. Really early. Like, 10 p.m. early. Granted, that’s 1 a.m. Central, but still. We had to get up early for the next day’s excursions, though, so I’m glad I got the extra sleep. I missed my nap! Hahahaha.

August 7, 2012

Tuesday found us in Skagway, Alaska, a teeny tiny little hardly-anything of a town, population mid-900s. Legit—they have a three-digit population! It’s so little…

Anyway. We docked at like, 7 or something and we went on a rail summit up and around the mountains and passes and such. It was narrated, so we got to hear all kinds of history and interesting mumbo jumbo, most of which I no longer remember. =D Go me. It was early, leave me alone. Haha.

After the train ride ended—in Canada! I even had to show a customs officer my passport! Why is that exciting? Probs cause I’ve never used it. I dunno. It was just kinda fun. Hahaha—we had a “gourmet lunch” back in Skagway. It wasn’t very ‘gourmet.’ I won’t really complain because it was good, but I definitely wouldn’t call it gourmet.

For the record, our bus driver for this excursion was this old guy from Poland with the worst accent ever and he was this super obnoxious, ridiculously rambly old fart who REFUSED to shut up and seriously reminded me of somebody from home who shall remain nameless to prevent the hurting of feelings. Paranoid people beware. Hahaha. Honestly, though, it was BEYOND obnoxious. I was really glad when I realized I wasn’t the only one annoyed. Awful of me, but I don’t really care, so there.

Following that excursion, we actually got to do a glass blowing “experience.” Only five people got to blow glass, actually; the other nine signed up for the demo and tour, which also would have been cool, but was undoubtedly nowhere NEAR as cool as what I got to do. =D =D =D (Inside joke: **BEHOLD, I AM EXCITED.) We went to ‘Garden City Glassworks’, and a couple of guys assisted us in blowing our own glass ornaments/paperweights. We all made paperweights, actually. I was kind of surprised to see that nobody made an ornament.

It was so much fun. Honestly, I am immensely jealous of these guys’ jobs. Working with molten glass. So legit.

They’ll ship me my paperweight, so you don’t get to see it yet. Sorry. Actually… I don’t know how much of any of this you guys are going to get to see. I should probably open up a viewing page on a website for you, shouldn’t I? Probs. You aren’t all my friends on Facebook, after all, hahaha. I’ll see what I can do for you, alright? Alright. You’re welcome.

When we got done blowing glass, we had quite a bit of time left, so the guys made a bowl for us. The five of us picked out colors, and they just went at it. It was really, really cool and equally as interesting. And would take way, way too long to explain for this blog post. So I’m sorry, but I think I’ll have to deny you an explanation. At least for now. Perhaps later.

Man I can’t tell you ALL my good stories; what will I have for parties then?! Come on.

When they finished the bowl, they made a duck. A DUCK! With a top hat!!! Yes, honestly. Hahaha.

The two other women that were there with us ordered the duck that they made for us. We ordered the bowl. We also ordered me a duck just like the one that the other two women ordered. Initially we were going to get the duck because we thought that they’d said they wanted the bowl. But then everything got straightened out and whateverz so all’s well. We just special ordered another top-hatted duck. X3 so excited. Hahaha.

Post-glassblowing, we had tea! In their show garden! Well, in their tea house on the edge of their show garden, but still. They also gave us a plate with samples of a few different things, including a salmon quiche and a delectable scone of whose variety I can’t remember but wish I did. And then there were two desserts, one of which was a carrot cake, which was good but really sweet, and the other a something and begonia tart(?). Dessert of some sort anyway with flowers in it. And it was yummy! Go figure.

By the end of that, we were all pretty shot. It had been a really long day. Lol. All of us went to bed early.

**Inside joke explanation: I saw this picture online that was like someone screen-shotted a conversation between Thor and Iron Man. Thor texted in all caps and was ridiculous and Stark just didn’t give a fuck and it was super super funny. Anyway, Loki taught Thor how to do emoticons and so then Thor texts Tony: :) BEHOLD! I AM SMILING! I saw that when I was at work, and I literally sat at my desk and died laughing for like, a minute and a half. My God it was SO funny.

August 8, 2012

Thankfully, we were just on the boat today. We DID, however, tour through Glacier Bay, and that was really cool. The Great Pacific Glacier just looks like a great big pile of dirt. Seriously, it’s totally underwhelming. Kind of cool, though.

The Marjorie Glacier was beautiful though, and we watched it calve twice. For anybody who doesn’t know, when pieces break off of a glacier, they refer to it as “calving.” They were just small chunks, but nevertheless. It was cool. Also, glaciers ‘talk,’ so to speak. They crack and snap and rumble as they shift and move around. The Marjorie Glacier moves SEVEN FEET A DAY. However, it ‘calves’ often enough and is replenished from the top often enough that it doesn’t really move all that much. So! Fun stuff.

The weather today’s been kinda sucky. Though, go figure that it would be cold in Glacier Bay. Hahahaha. Whatevs. It’s fine.

My parents and I watched The Help over noon. It’s actually a really good, really moving movie. I should read the book but you and I both know I won’t get to it. At least not for quite a long time.

Can I reiterate how damn beautiful Emma Stone is without sounding like a lesbian? I’m getting really self-conscious about that whole thing.

August 9, 2012

Kay, so we went on this “Duck” tour this morning. We got on a “duck boat” which was… a… truck/boat thing? And we drove around Ketchikan for a bit with our super dorky (and only 67% good kind) tour guide and then we DROVE INTO the water, at which point our… “vehicle” became a “boat.” Thing. I don’t know. I was half-catatonic, honestly.

We were supposed to see wildlife on this tour. We saw some seagulls. Yeah. That’s it. Really. How exciting.

So the duck boat tour was kinda lame.

But then my grandma insisted that my dad go on a float plane fjord tour, so my parents and I did that. And THAT was really cool. There was another couple with us as well, and they had a 21 month old baby girl with them who was an absolute doll. And she flew marvelously. She watched for awhile and then resumed napping. Ahh babies. =3

Anyway. We flew around a couple of fjords and the mountains and island clusters around the island and stuff. Saw a bunch of waterfalls. All in all it was really awesome.

My stomach wasn’t too appreciative, though. I didn’t get sick, but my stomach was a little uneasy for awhile. Then again, I’m not sure if that was entirely from the plane, because we got back on our ship and I was reeeaaally hungry. So. Whatever I guess. Lol

I got my “I <3 Alaska” shirt. =D And a really cute sweatshirt and a waterproof jacket with soft plushy inside. And apparently it’s reversible? Though I’m not sure why you’d want the plushy side out… Whatever. Hahahaha.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand then we bought a new backpack each to bring home our new extra stuff. Hahaha. About how that goes. Anyway.

We ate lunch. My parents watched Tangled on their TV and I did some writing/etc and then we took a nap. It was a formal night, so we all got dressed up all nice and pretty and we actually went up to the Platinum Studio and a particularly attractive photographer from New Zealand took a bunch of pictures of us. Quite frankly, I’m amazed my dress fit as well as it did. I’m pretty positive I’ve gained weight on this cruise. Oops. =S

For the record, Ketchikan is an adorable little fishing town on an island. It’s not really that little either, with a population of 14,000. Which is… more than I expected. But like, their sports team for their high school has to take the ferry to compete anywhere. Legitimately.

No thanks.

After supper we went to “British Invasion” which was a production about popular British music in America over the years. Now, I like to think that I know a thing or two about music, but I had NO IDEA some of those bands were British. It was on the verge of embarrassing, actually. The production itself was really good, though. The lead female singer had one helluva voice. She sang Paint it Black (one of those songs I turned to my dad and said “This is British, too??”) and I was floored. Duly impressed, my friends. Yes, indeed.

I think VersaEmerge did a cover of Paint it Black on Punk Goes Classic Rock last year (2 years ago?), but I can’t remember specifically. It was a female-fronted band, though, and she did a really good job on it, too.

It could have been Automatic Loveletter, but I don’t really think so. I’m pretty certain it was VersaEmerge. I’ll have to check later. And so will you because I probs won’t say anything again. =P

August 10, 2012

Sooooooooooooooo there was an electrical fire on the ship today. Yeah, for real. In the laundry room, hahahaha. A dryer caught on fire apparently. It was kind of exciting. Everyone got real worked up about it. Hahaha. Well, the thing of course is that crew members get called to their stations and they’re required to bring their lifejackets with them. Which freaked people out. So then people are like, running to their rooms and getting their own life jackets and stuff, even though we, as passengers, weren’t told to go anywhere yet. My gramma freaked out hardcore, too; go figure. Hahaha. Love her to pieces, but man alive.

Today’s been pretty chill, otherwise. We picked out the photos we wanted this morning and my gramma ordered a bunch. (Which cost WAY more than it was worth, just for the record.) We packed our stuff back into our suitcases this afternoon and everything, which is kind of depressing because it’s like admitting that we know it’s all over. Hahahaha. Kidding, but seriously, this has probably been the best vacation I’ve ever taken.

We’re back in Pacific Time today, so we’re only 2 hours behind my home time zone. I think it’s GMT-8, because Chicago is GMT-6 and I’m in the same time zone as Chicago.

For some reason I always thought I was GMT-5… Weird.

Don’t ask me what GMT stands for. Because I honestly have no idea. I probably knew once upon a time but that time ain’t now.

The ship docked in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada at 6:30 p.m. We had to line up a shuttle to take us over to where our double-decker bus was for our City Highlights Tour because it’s a 30 minute walk and… yeah, no thanks. Hahaha.

Fun fact about Victoria: EMILY CAN DRINK HERE!! XD hahaha. 

I mean uh. *ahem* The legal drinking age here is 19, so I can have alcohol if I want. Hahahaha.

We leave Victoria at midnight and arrive back in Seattle at 7 a.m. My group can’t leave the ship until 9:20, though, which is kiiiiiiiiiiind of annoying, since we have to be out of our room at 8 a.m. which means we have to go sit our asses down somewhere and wait our turn. No me gusta. A no todos.

That’s probably grammatically incorrect, but whatever.

Also, I feel like I should mention that the redraft of my novel has reached 90+ pages. =J Which is super neato. Lol.

Anyway. I suppose you’d like to hear about the “City Highlights” tour, eh? Weeeell alright.

I got PLASTERED!!

Just kidding.

I didn’t even drink a little. Not even one measly little drink.

My parents/grandparents would never allow that. Which is semi-unfortunate, actually. Though, admittedly, I’m not terribly certain I wish to be plastered around my parents. Apparently being asleep around them is embarrassing enough.

I talk in my sleep. My mom said she can ask me anything and I answer her. Now, whether or not I tell her the absolute truth while I’m sleeping remains to be seen. So far she hasn’t exploited that. Or at least she hasn’t admitted to it. I guess that sometimes, when they go to bed and I’m already asleep, I’ll like… contribute to their conversations. It’s not always relevant or even intelligible, but apparently I do it?

I shouldn’t have admitted that.

I also, apparently, snore (sometimes, whatever), flail about, kick, whimper, make all kinds of random, weirdass sounds and generally make a ruckus. This is tremendously embarrassing, you guys. I thought I’d grown out of this. Nobody is ever going to want to sleep with me! Hahahaha. And I mean sleep literally, thank you. I mean, I knew I was fidgety and that I moved around and stuff, but… damn. =/

I… probably shouldn’t have admitted that, either.

Oh well.

Anyway. Victoria. Right. Hahahaha. Before I got totally derailed there.

We rode around Victoria on a double decker bus. Our tremendously amusing tour guide told stories and made jokes and was generally enjoyable. So t’was fun.

We passed BUBBLE TEA SHOPS. DX  I was super upset because I couldn’t go back and get one. I LOVE bubble teas. (It’s like an iced tea latte with humungous tapioca pearls in it. SO lovely.)

I bought a pair of boxer shorts that have big red maple leaves on them and say CanadaEh! I love them. And no, I won’t model them for you. I’m too fat for that. Straight up.

Exercise program will restart pretty soon here. I can’t guarantee immediately upon disembarkation, but uh… soon.

We watched a little band in one of the lounges, too. It was actually pretty funny too because the guitar player had the same hairstyle that I’ve been rocking lately. And he was super, super-duper cute. Like, absolutely adorable. AND he had a lovely singing voice, AND he had a sexy accent. I don’t know where he’s from because he didn’t have a nametag but holy cats. Hahaha. AND!! He waved at me when I left. Motioned to the hair and everything. It was fun. I enjoyed that. (=

August 11, 2012

So that’s it! It’s all over! The ship docked at 7 a.m.ish. We had to be out of our staterooms at 8 a.m.; we were by a quarter to. Which also meant we were done with coffee/breakfast by 8:10 a.m. and had to chill on the deck until 9:30 before we could meet in our designated location to “debark,” as my mother likes to put it. The dumbass driving the shuttle to the hotel packed too many people into the van—they seat 9 comfortably and he stuffed 11 people in; we didn’t tip him this time—and then we packed up our Excursion and left! Bye bye Seattle.

We ate lunch at a little place on the top of Snoqualme Pass. It was really, really good, and the service was excellent. Our waitress reminded me a lot of my elementary school secretary, who also happens to be the neighbor we asked to watch over the place while we were gone. Hahaha. =)

So far we’ve made it to Spokane. I didn’t remember that drive taking so long the first time. I mean it obviously did, but it just feels longer this time. Hahaha. 260(ish) miles. Ugh.

But we made it. And all is well. My dad’s cousin and her husband are making us supper I guess. We’ll spend the night here and prooooobably drive the rest of the way home tomorrow. I kind of hope so. We’ve already been gone a week and a half and I really need to reorganize and repack my college stuff and finish moving my shit back into my bedroom.

So that’s the story. Back to reality. I’m not positive I want to be here… hahaha. I’m kidding; it’s nice to be home and I’m ready to go to college. I miss the autonomy that living on my own provides me. I need out of the cage!

I’ll get back in touch at a later date. I hope all is well with y’all and that more than one of you are so jealous you could almost hate me. (= hahahaha just kidding. Mostly. ;P

Ta ta!

--Emily Renae

My Room!

So I decided at the start of the summer that I was going to completely redo my bedroom. I was gonna paint walls and the floor and the trim and everything. I mean, I was really gonna go at it.

Suffice it to say, it didn't quite happen that way.

I did paint the windowsill and one wall worth of trim the other day, though, so at least I have that.

I'd been cleaning out my room bit by bit all summer.  I went a few weeks without doing jack shit, but it's summer, so go figure I didn't wanna work that hard. hahahaha.

Anyway.

I completely rearranged my bedroom yesterday. My bed is in the adjacent corner, the dresser is now across the room where my bed used to be and my desk is now occupying the space vacated by my dresser. The closet/wardrobe will have to be returned to the corner where it belongs, but the shelving unit taking up space between desk and closet needs to go. I need a new shelving unit. I really want to buy a bunch of these little...

plastic storage bins/drawers/thingies. Preferably sans-wheels, but that's me.
They're perfect for keeping like-minded shit together. And considering I have a TON of random odds&ends crap that I don't really want to get rid of but am totally unsure what to do with, these are perfect.
I've actually got all my socks and underwear and bras in one already that I bought while in college. Total lifesaver; I love it.

So go figure I want more of them, right?

Only my mom's a touch on the resistant side. But I'm going to get them anyway. She wants my room organized? She'll have to let me organize it in my OCD manner. EVERYTHING HAS TO HAVE ITS OWN DAMN PLACE >.<

Ahem.

Anyway.

Yes.

I also want to put up shelves behind my door as well. Preferably from pretty low to pretty high up. I'm not entirely certain what it is I think I'll STORE there, buuuuut whatever. Anything works.

I also really wanna take a page out of Hank Green's book and make a bunch of floating bookshelves for stacks of books around my room. The only problem, of course, is that I'll be taking these books with me and then there's a bunch of these random things in this bedroom. HOWEVER! We do have a ton of books around the house that could just as easily be stacked on the walls in my room. I'm not gonna live there forever, after all.

I just have too much stuff for my allotted space. The vast majority of my college stuff is still in the collection of plastic tote boxes I brought it all home in. For real. It's ridiculous.  At least when I get my own apartment and move into a completely new space with dedicated areas for genres of objects, I'll be able to actually START organized. That'll help.

As it is, right now I have to bring in most of my stuff back into my room and stack it somewhere so that it's not in my brother's room. This is going to be awful.  I need to do some hardcore paring-down.

Uff-dah.

So that's what I've been doing!

I'll post pictures of the current status later. (I'm currently work and haven't taken pictures yet. So either way they're unavailable. lol)

Anyway.  There you have it. My absurdly hectic life.

But it's lunch time now so I'm out.

Toodles!

Urrgghnng.

Now that's a title. Go ahead and give pronouncing that a go. Take a few seconds.

Okay now stop because it's more like a grumble/groany noise than any real sound. So... whatever you just did is probably close enough.

Here's the deal:

I decided back at the start of the summer that--well, more like came to the realization, but I digress--I, at present, do not have the emotional capacity to furnish a functional relationship.  Not in the "I've been hurt by too many boys" kind of way or anything like that. More like "I have a list of psychological disasters that would make your head spin going on all at the same time and I don't have the capacity for relationship drama."
Like, seriously? My head is a disaster area. It looks like New Orleans post-Katrina. Yeah, it's that bad.
I'm not here to make excuses. I'm not here to sob story or pity party. My life, however... unfortunate... is not worth all that. It could certainly be worse. It has been worse, but that's beside the point.

The point is that, even though I kept trying anyway, I'm just... mentally, not in a good place for this right now.  Trust me, I want to be. I like boys. I like relationships. Having someone there for you, having that affection and that reassurance that somebody thinks you're attractive--it's nice. But for all that I've found affection and attraction, I've never been able to find someone who was willing to lend the kind of emotional support that I need(ed). And that's not really a slam against any of these boys, either. (This makes it sound like there's been several of them, but I assure you there really haven't.)  I'm just saying that, so far, nothing I've had has been what I actually needed.
It was what I wanted, at the time. At least for the most part. I mean, don't get me wrong, no relationship is ever perfect. (And if it is, someone's lying.) But relationships don't have to be perfect for you to be happy with them.

I was just about to talk about my relationships. I even typed a bunch of stuff out. HAH! Yeah, we're not going there.  Long story(ies) short, neither one was really much my type.

I really ought to report one other factor: they've all been military. Except for... one... Yes, one. HOLY JEEZUZ I NEED TO DATE WITHIN MY COLLEGE. >_<  Anyway.  I have a hard time complaining about that notion too much just simply because I do have some really great friends that are in the military.  I do. And I love them to pieces. And I totally respect what these guys are doing and what they stand for and all that mumbo jumbo. I do. Honest. I'm not a military-hater.
But... uh... ya know... Judging by my past history, my personality doesn't fit. With more than just the actual organization itself, apparently.
But I'ma stop before I hurt somebody's feelings.  I probably already have.

It's really too bad I'm a bitch, huh?

The reason I mention any of this really is because with every date I go on it just becomes more and more apparent that I'm not interested in doing this right now.  And perhaps it's just the guys that I'm seeing. But... you know... I just don't want to right now. I don't.
And I'm not saying that I'm gonna go be a lesbian now thank you.  I may come off as a bit iffy sometimes, but I really am totally straight. Really.
Here is not the place to admit curiosity.
hahahahahhaa


Seriously, though, I realized a week or two ago that I'm actually a lot happier without boy drama in my life. And it was a super depressing realization because I like boys. I like boys a lot!  Boys are great! But uh... yeah... right now I think they can stay on their side of the gym.*

**that's a joke referencing junior high dances (which I never attended) at which boys stand against one wall and girls against the other because Ew, cooties.  Except... yeah... I don't know that we (my school) ever really experienced that growing up. I could be wrong. I was kind of excluded from everything, after all.


Anyway. That's all I've got.  In time it'll change. I mean, I'm moving to a new city with new boys in a month. Do you REALLY think I'm going to be able to keep my eyes to myself? I don't think so.  It's highly unlikely.
But for now...

Just A Thought

I was having a conversation with my godfather a few weeks ago now and we got to talking about religion and such.  He's recently become an ordained minister, so this isn't an odd occurrence for us. As families, I mean; I guess I don't really do a lot of one-on-one conversing with him.

Something he said last time he was up has been spinning around in my head lately. And it's not like I've never thought about it before, obviously, but I guess that it's different hearing it from him.  I look up to him. I always have.  He's pretty much immediate family, even though we aren't related by blood.
Anyway, he said, "The Bible's great, but it's a story.  It's all a story."
And he's right.  There's a lot to be learned from the Bible.  I am not discounting the lessons that the Bible is designed to teach us.  But I don't think that so much emphasis really needs to go into/onto some of the points  within.
For example, the Bible states that we aren't supposed to mark our bodies or cut our hair, etc.  Body is a temple kind of thing.
But, quite frankly, our body doesn't come with us when we die.  Our bodies we leave behind.  Therefore, what does it matter whether or not we inject our skin with ink or chemically alter the color or texture of our hair?  What should it matter if we surgically alter things that make us uncomfortable?
The only thing we take with us to Heaven when we die is our everlasting soul--which is only everlasting in Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not condemning anybody who doesn't believe religiously/spiritually the same way that I do.  I don't care if you're Muslim or Catholic or Mormon or Jewish or whatever you are.  More power to you.  Honestly.  But I am Christian and I stand behind what I believe in, even if it isn't fun.

Anyway.  Yeah. The body art is really what I wanted to talk about.  I don't think it matters so much what we do with our physical selves so much as people like to insist that it does.  Like I said, we don't bring them with us.  It's our spiritual selves, our souls, that we really have to worry about.

Chew on that.  You don't have to conclude in agreement. But think about it.

Project

I have been inspired by recent events to finally start a series of posts that probably belongs on a Tumblr blog, but I don't USE Tumblr, so it's going on Blogger.
How's THAT for loyalty?

Anyway.
This is a list of

 

And the order of things on the list is not in any particular order of importance.  So.

 

 

Catch you later.

--Emily Renae

 

Your Attention, Please?

The world is a dark and threatening, unwelcoming place. It thrives on entropy and mass destruction. It harbours evil of any and every nature. It fosters degradation and erosion. This world does not know time or fairness. This world does not accommodate for disability or illness. This world exists for itself.
But, we as a people need more than this. We, as a people, need light and comfort, stability and contentment. We work for companionship and goodness, camaraderie and happiness. We, as a people, invented time and fairness. We make room for disability and fight against illness. We, as a people, exist for each other.
This world is unkind, but we don't have to be. We were gifted with the capacity to love and to nurture, to grow and to succeed. The world is dark, but we, my friends, we are the sparks in that blackness, and we must light our own small orb of joy. We must ignite the fires of others and bring light.
Create your own spot of sunshine in this everlasting darkness. Go out and be happy; bring joy to all others. Pull others into your orb of joy that it might spread and chase away the blackness. We have too much potential to cower in fear of what lurks in the shadows. So walk boldly, and smile brightly.
We're all here for a reason. Reasons diverse and temporary as our beings. Do not allow the shortness of your life to overtake you, but bask in the glory of its infinite length. Fill it from end to end with everything you've got and when it's over, sing praise for every moment. But smile, my friend. Smile always.
Laugh and love and forever let the light of your life shine bright in the eyes of others that we may all know your value. Choose to be happy and choose to go far. Defy your limits and create your own reality; it's such a simple, subjective thing. Love; know that you are loved. Smile, and let us all smile back.

An Introductive Bio

I've been blogging in Ramblings With Direction on and off for approximately three years I think.  If you've jumped from that blog to this one, this post will probably prove relatively unnecessary for your viewing. Just the same, you may learn something, so by all means continue.

I was born in Montgomery, Alabama to Kevin and Sharon (Sorenson) Mell, both of whom are from North Dakota.  At the time of my birth, my parents already had a [recently] 5-year-old, Milo, who was such a good brother that he literally kicked his friends out of the house if they weren't nice enough to me.  When my mom was 8 months pregnant with my little brother, Matthew, my family moved back to North Dakota from Alabama to help my great-uncle and grandpa on the family farm.
We grew up broke. Scratch that--REALLY broke. Even so, my parents worked very hard to give us a good childhood.  We did not want for toys and things, but we didn't get everything we ever asked for. Looking back, I'm particularly glad for that.
My brothers and I got along relatively well in the grand scheme of things.  We all fought like mad, but just the same we were a pretty tight-knit group.  I played cars and trucks and stuff with them; from time to time they played dollies/barbies with me. It didn't make anyone girly or boyish or anything; we were kids, and we were the only kids we knew, at least until school started.
Growing up, I really didn't get along with my classmates.  I tried everything for awhile in the beginning--even pretending to be stupid, but when it finally occurred to me that nothing was going to make them like me, I just gave up and turned to books. At that point in life, I preferred to be anywhere but here, even if only in imagination/spirit.  So I taught myself to delve deeply into the material that I was reading.  When I stuffed my face in a book, the world just dropped away.  I sat with a dictionary for awhile and looked up words I didn't know.  That didn't exactly go over well with my peers, either.
Don't get me wrong, I had a friend here or there over the years, but never very many, and I've done a lot of questioning of the validity, legitimacy, honest, whatever, of a few of them.
The summer after junior year, in 2010, I went to Washington, DC for the National Rural Electric Cooperative Association (NRECA) National Youth Tour. That summer I was also elected to represent North Dakota on the NRECA's Youth Leadership Council, featuring one student from 42 states in the nation with RECs (and participating in the program). This allowed me a second trip to Washington, DC the following month, which--thankfully--cut off half of my National FBLA trip to Nashville, TN.  (Suffice it to say I did NOT enjoy that trip.) Also, the NRECA Annual Meeting was in Orlando, FL in March of the following year.
In October of my senior year of high school, my little brother committed suicide. It is literally the shittiest thing that has ever happened in my entire life, and I pray that I will live for a very, very long time before something else matches or outweighs it.  Honestly, I'm not entirely positive that I could handle anything else so catastrophic any time soon.  I already cope with (undiagnosed) clinical strength depression that cycles at a more rapid rate than it used to; I don't think I could handle being drug through hell again.

My life has heretofore been terribly unfortunate.  I don't mean it to come out as a sob story like oh boo hoo my life sucks.  Because, despite all that, it really hasn't/doesn't.  I've been drug through hell more than once and come out the other side intact, perhaps even stronger than I went in.  I have the presence of mind to look back and be embarrassed/ashamed of some bits and pieces of my past and proud as hell of others.

I guess I skipped over graduation and my first year of college. There really isn't much worth mentioning. I had my first relationship fall semester. It lasted 6 weeks, which, in retrospect, is kind of amazing because we really were doomed from the start.
I transferred from Minot State University to University of North Dakota this fall, and I'm so excited I can't even stand it.  I need to get the hell out of this region, and the sooner the better.  I've never fit here and I'm never going to; that's all there is to it.  There's a lot that I like about Minot, but I need more.  And I can't even specify "More what?" because it's just an all-encompassing MORE.  It's difficult to explain.

For what feels like the first time in my life, I have been genuinely happy this summer.  I don't really know why.  I don't have any real legitimate reason or excuse for it.  But I will tell you why:
I allowed myself to be.
I decided to be happy and discovered that that's really all there is to it.  Once you allow yourself to be happy you can be, and will be.  I still miss my brother like hell. I still cope with depression and all kinds of psychological bullshit, but I'm not allowing it to own me anymore.  My life is mine, and I'm deciding to smile. I'm choosing happy.  I like waking up in the morning and looking forward to the day instead of dreading it.  It's a good feeling.

So that's a very general overview/gloss-over of my life thus far.  And I mean VERY general overview.
This blog will probably consist of memories from childhood or particular events in my present, musings about things that were, are, might be, will never be.  I generally try to keep the exactitude of my life off of the internet but sometimes I feel like there's something that other people can learn from my life and experiences.  Sometimes I feel like I have something I need to teach people; I don't know what it is or how I'm supposed to go about doing so, but... it's a feeling I get sometimes.

So, until we again converge,
--Emily