a little bit of nothing and a whole lot of other stuff

Who lost all knowledge of how to juggle a life and work? This girl. I was basically off the grid last week. This work thing is much more time consuming than I remembered. With nine or so hour days and a commute that is over an hour both ways...I am spent when I get home. I look at the clock and cry a little on the inside knowing that I have only about three hours to do shit before I need to go to bed if I want to sleep for 8 hours. And who has slept for 8 hours every night this week? Not this girl. I've been rockin' like 6 or 6.5. Totally unlike me and the cause of my marathon sleep session on Saturday.

I have good news to report though. I am totally digging my job. I know it is temporary and I know that I have only been there a week and a day, but I like it. I tried to enter this work experience with a different attitude and approach than I have ever really taken before...and it is working. I do think I have always been a relatively good employee (see: awesome), but I think this new approach I am taking is making me happier and an even better employee and coworker. So yeah. I like what I am doing. The program is totally awesome and I just know it will make some monumental changes in the lives of others. I'm sad that it is temporary and sort of a band-aid fix for the clients we are working with...but, change doesn't happen overnight and it is often about small victories.

Anyway, in my last post I went on and on about how I didn't do much during work sabbatical. (Yes, I realized it wasn't a sabbatical. It just sounds so much nicer than unemployment.) I feel the need to share the things that I did get to do with my time off that I may not have shared with you...

• Got a library card
• Hung curtains in my room
• Watched the 5th season of Weeds
• Returned to being a brunette after spending four months as a blonde
• Rearranged the furniture in my apartment 3 times
• Finished a photo album I've been working on for at least 3 years
• Learned to fold origami cranes
• Hung pictures on my walls
• Used my sewing machine
• Got a second tattoo
• Sat in the audience for a taping of Oprah
• Watched seasons 1-3 of 30 Rock
• Began painting one nail off
• Went on some bad dates
• Read A Million Little Pieces (and loved it)
• Took a yoga class
• Downloaded a shit ton of music
• Drank a lot of wine
• Visited my dad for over a week...which I haven't done since perhaps middle school
• Ended a friendship
• Went on long walks in the city
• Memorized my library card number
• Hung out with my high school best friend
• Went to a candy convention
• Made almost all my Christmas presents by hand
• Threw up in a cab (it was New Year's Eve...give me that)
• Installed my window air conditioner all by myself
• Met one of my new favorite bloggers for drinks and Mexican food
• Rode on the back of a scooter for the first time
• Realized I don't hate all salad dressings
• Went to Wisconsin
• Helped my mom do flowers for a wedding
• Met Craig Ferguson
• Talked on the phone for hours to my best friend
• Learned who my real friends are
• Bought a plant for my apartment, so I was not the only living thing here
• Ordered spray paint online
• Went to a St. Louis Cardinals game
• Saw Michal Jackson's childhood home
• Got taken care of by my mom
• Made coffee at home
• Started this blog

So, I did a whole bunch of nothing...but, I also did a whole lot of stuff too. I'm not going to lie and say that I wouldn't be happy if I didn't have to set my alarm in the morning, but I am glad to be where I am right now. I don't think I can ask for much more.

P.S. I have an AMAZING CTA story for you, but you will have to wait a few days. A girl can only write so much when she is trying to get adequate sleep.

Back Where I Come From

UPDATED

I write about my love for Chicago often. And, let me tell you...I love this place. I get antsy anywhere I live and I think about leaving. It may be a fight or flight type of thing. I'm not sure. However, I've only ever thought of leaving Chicago for a second. This is because the thought of actually leaving this place makes me more anxious than staying. I want to fight for Chicago, not flee it. It is my home, as if I were a native Chicagoan in a past life.

With this said, I am not from here. Originally, I was born in New Jersey. Don't think Jersey Shores. Or The Sopranos. Nothing like that. It is the Garden State for a reason. I am fiercely loyal to New Jersey and will defend it any day; however, Tennessee holds a place in my heart like no other. I've probably never admitted that before. It's true though. I've spent a combined 13 years in Tennessee...longer than I've ever been in any other state by far. And, while I moved from one border to the other and then back to the center...Tennessee is a home to me just as New Jersey and Chicago are.

And it is what happened in Tennessee this past weekend that breaks my heart. The Nashville area, which is where my mom and two brothers live, was engulfed by flood waters as the city had its highest rainfall totals since records began. People drowned and were washed away. Homes were lost and businesses ruined. Ten to twenty feet of water swallowed up landmarks. The devastation is really inconceivable to me. What is perhaps worse is that it is getting very little attention. It was and still is a catastrophe.

My family was extraordinarily lucky and hardly saw any damage. I am eternally grateful for that fact. With this said, those that were not so lucky are in my heart.

(Pictures via Facebook pages of friends and family and The Tennessean)

Just a few hours later....My mom used to work at a flower shop across the street from this car dealership. It was almost completely swallowed up by the flood. Oh, and as a note...this guy is kayaking on a street that is four lanes wide.

This is the LP Field, where the Tennessee Titans play. It resembles a swimming pool now.

P.S. I definitely listened to Back Where I Come From by Kenny Chesney as I wrote this post despite not being a country music fan. Oh, and then of course I followed it up with Tennessee by Mindy Smith. I cry almost every time.

in which i write about music...again

I've written multiple times about how I love music. You are probably sick of hearing (or reading) about it. But, I do. I love it. Music had me at hello. We are totally sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-Ging.

My little brother introduced me to this band and this video in particular. I will admit that I wasn't sold the first time I watched it, but I gave it another try. About 100 plays later I am enamored. It is amazing and beautiful and I want it to be my anthem.

'cause there is always a wrong to your right

and there will always be a war somewhere to fight

and god knows i've had some rough fucking years (ooh)

oh lord, oh lord, keep on keeping on

putting it back together...

My last entry was March 14th and I went silent. It was a picture of umbrellas in the sky and the title was, "When the sky is falling..." This is all information you know. What you don't know is the story and how I needed an umbrella to keep the sky from falling on me. Simultaneously, the sky caved in on me and the ground crumbled beneath my feet. And, I couldn't do anything about it...I was paralyzed by the magnitude of it.

For those of you who have read what I've written before or who know me personally, it probably comes as no surprise. I struggle at times with some intense anxiety and depression. I would give the world to be able to remove it from my being. To sit in a place of serenity and remove clouds of doubt and unrest. I would love to know what it feels like to have no demons to fight or cross to bare. This isn't something I can do though.

I mask my feelings pretty well a majority of the time. I have it down to an art. I know how to fool even those who are professionals at removing the mask. I say I am fine and will laugh it off. This is not to say that I don't know how to be happy and I don't sincerely laugh and enjoy life. I most certainly do....but, when I wear the mask it is difficult to see beyond.

There was no hiding this though. I was shattered and people were finding out. I lost the energy to wear the mask or to pretend. It became piercingly obvious. The self doubting part of myself wanted to believe that no one would take notice or even if they did they wouldn't act. How could they? Why would they? I don't quite know the answer to those questions. What I do know is that they did. They told me I wasn't okay and had to do something about it. They offered to stay with me. They sat on the phone even when I was silent. And, they picked me up. Both figuratively and literally. Despite all efforts to push it away, I was showered with love. It was an outpouring I could never repay or even begin to express the extent to which I am forever grateful. When I was sinking I didn't just have a life preserver thrown to me, but people jumped in after me.

I can't make a false promise and say I am all better and the sky is hung right back where it is suppose to be. It isn't. I have to be honest. The ground is still unstable. But it is getting better every day. What I am learning to accept is that I can not count on some, but there are others who will go to the ends of the earth for me. And, I just have no words for that...a very rare thing.

I'm a story teller. I talk. I write. I love the experience of sharing. I love details and often get wrapped up in them. When I was a little girl, my parents would hurry me along and say, "get to the point," because my stories were inevitably twice as long as they needed to be. I'm not a "point" kind of girl. To me, it is the process of getting there that makes it worth it...not the actual point. I want to draw it out...experience it. I want to take as long as I can getting to the point.

So, while I considered ending this whole process of sharing and writing publicly...I couldn't stop. I am back. Not to write some sad blog about being sad, but to be honest. Share it all. And, that is what you will find here. Good, bad, ugly, weird...all of it. It will be the continuation to my journey.

I give you my story...there will never be any long story short about it...

Wherein the pigeon gets his 15 minutes...

Hi, my name is Emily and I love pigeons.

I know pigeons are not popular things to like. People like to call them all kinds of nasty names, but I call them beautiful. There is something about them that I am just drawn to. Some of them have the most beautiful coloring with iridescent greens, blues, and purples. And, they just have this "I don't give a shit what you think" kind of attitude. They are weird and awkward and under appreciated. And that kids, that is a recipe for making something I love.

I apparently have a style. Let's just get it out of the way right off the bat that my style isn't "good" or anything. Style doesn't mean you are walking a runway. It just means you have things that inherently make sense for you to wear or surround yourself with. There is some common thread. In my case that thread may be weird and tacky, but I am okay with that.

In actuality, I can't describe my style. I wouldn't know how to tell you what really makes something "me." My friends on the other hand, they have my style down pat. They are always saying, "of course you do" in response to me saying, "I love this!" When I buy something, I often hear, "that is very Emily." I'm not sure what this really means, but I kind of love it. My friend (and sister-in-law) says that she has to make herself stop shopping for me when the holidays roll around because she is most in tune with what would make a good "Emily" present.

Anyway, this was all to say that I love pigeons and it seems to me that I am not alone. Pigeons are taking over the internet recently. Everywhere I look, there they are.

Am I teaching myself how to fold an origami pigeon as we speak? Maybe...just maybe.

Love this! (via Origami Bijou)

Best! Thing! Ever! (via Chinnychinchin) I want it! I want it!

Now, let's be real folks. How can you not love the pigeon when you see how responsibly he rides on public transportation?

saving the best of last is for assholes

I've never really been athletic. I don't like to run. Hell, I barely like to walk. And for the record, this didn't start as an adult. I didn't like running around and shit like all other little kids. So, naturally, I wasn't a big team sports sort of girl growing up. There was one exception though, T-Ball.

The town I grew up in in New Jersey was fairly small. My brother and I pretty much knew everyone on our t-ball team and my dad, who was one of the coaches, knew all the other coaches.

While I was on the team, I wasn't always really into the game. I'd get bored and walk off the benches to go swing on the swing sets that were next to the field or I would wonder off with a friend. I just wasn't too into it. Add that to the fact that I was the last to bat every time. My dad would lovingly tell me that they were saving the best for last and I had to wait my turn. At four maybe five years old, I didn't like this answer but I accepted it. I was, in fact, the best.

The coaches (and sometimes the parents in the stands) would call me back to the field when it was time for me to bat. This is where things got interesting. The ringer of Bohm's Sod Farm T-Ball team would step on to the plate. Watch out mother fuckers. I meant business. It is true that my business meant missing the tee every now and then. I dare you to try to hit a stationary ball perched on a tee some time. It isn't as easy as it sounds. Back off.

When I did make contact with the ball, it was magic. Suddenly it was clear why they were saving me for last. One for the win. Home run should have been my middle name. I'd hit the ball and take off running. The kids on the opposing team would yell, naturally, as I ran around the bases. I couldn't bother with them. It was my moment. A fuckin' t-ball legend. I'd make it to home and return to clapping and my dad picking me up telling me what a good job I did. Saving the best for last, that's for damn sure.

The concept of saving the best for last was something I really took with me long after my t-ball days were over. It really made sense to me. It seemed like a good motto to live by.

However, it wasn't.

Yes, I didn't learn this until years after my t-ball hay-days. My jersey number, 0....yeah I forgot to mention that one...well, it wasn't just luck of the draw. And saving the best for last? Well, turns out I wasn't really on the team. They were just letting me hit once everyone else did. Nothing I did really mattered. All those "home runs?" Fake. Oh, and the cheering and yelling. It's true that there was cheering from the parents in the stands who knew the real deal, but the yelling from the opposing team's players...wasn't in support. I ignored their "but she didn't even touch the base" or "let me tag her coach" as I ran by them. I didn't pay attention to the coaches holding the other players back to keep them from tagging me with the ball. I was in my own world. High off of the saving the best for last glory of it all.

I'm Michelle

I feel like that last post was heavy, so I feel the need to lighten things up with a confession. I was about to type embarrassing, but I then realized that I am not embarrassed about it at all. Come on, I am sharing it with the entire internet. That's right kids, the ENTIRE internet will read this. Jealous?

Okay...here it goes.

I love the Olsen twins. And I may or may not have seen like every movie they were ever in. More like may...okay, totally have.


I think it started when I was little and would watch TGIF with my step sisters. When shows would come on we would quickly say who we were going to "be" while the show was on. Think credits rolling...my oldest step sister would loudly announce, "I'm DJ," when Candace Cameron appeared on the screen. My other step sister would always F'in jump in and claim Jodie Sweeten before I got a chance to. (But really, who's laughin' now...she turned out to be a meth addict...Jodie Sweeten. Not my step sister. Although, I haven't talked to her in a few years so don't take me at my word on that one.) Anyway, I was always stuck being Michelle, which meant I was Mary-Kate and Ashley...or both. I'm not sure how the rules worked. I hated it. I wasn't an effing baby, but at some point things turned around. It may have been To Grandmother's House We Go or Double, Double, Toil and Trouble. I can't quite be sure. All I know is they hooked me. I can't get enough. And if we ever watch Full House together, don't even try "be" Michelle. I'm her. You can be Aunt Becky or something.

my parent's daughter

I am going to pretend that I didn't take the longest blog hiatus ever and that the power cord fire thing didn't even happen. I would appreciate if you close your eyes and pretend too. Please open them again to start reading though.

There is no denying that I am my mother's daughter. I sound like her on the phone. I have her weakness for sweet foods. I stare at strangers and even smile at them sometimes if they catch me. I make up new words to songs or make songs out of things that don't need to be made into songs in the first place. I get annoyed and want to tell everyone about it. And, if you cover up her hair in pictures from about 20 years ago...it might as well be my face. There is no denying I am hers.


My dad is another story. Besides his stick straight brown hair and propensity to get overheated and break a sweat when temperatures reach 70 degrees, our similarities are harder to find. He is sometimes painfully private (to the point that he won't even tell me who he votes for in elections...even local ones). He could be outside all day long and is most days. He's not a "talk it out" kind of guy. He doesn't like change. He has blue eyes. And, he despises being in a city.

You have to squint to see the similarities.

...

It was Thanksgiving night and everyone in the house was asleep. I was laying in bed listening to music on my iPod and playing some iPod game. Right after a random pop song, Death Cab for Cutie's Bixby Cannon Bridge came through my ear buds.

Musical euphoria. I can't even think of a better way to describe it. There is something about music that can completely move my soul. Touch me and evoke the rawest of emotions. This song struck a cord and really always does. Things don't always go as planned. Sometimes your mom says that she misses your dad's family and really wishes she could be there with everyone for the holiday. Sometimes you look across the table and know that your grandfather is sick. Sometimes someone tells you there are no good memories. Sometimes you close your eyes and know that this moment will never happen again.

My dad and I were sitting in his den the other day and he put on a CD of bagpipe music. My dad has forever said that he wanted Amazing Grace and Coming Home played on the bagpipes at his funeral...as his coffin is lifted up onto a firetruck (since he has been a fireman for over 30 years...it is fitting). As we sat there, my dad told me that one day he came home from work and put this same CD on and listened and just cried. He said, "Sometimes it just feels so good to just cry. Really, cry." I've seen my dad cry a few times. I'm not one of those girls who thinks her dad is invincible. We left my dad. A lot of kids of divorced families talk about when their fathers left. Mine never did. He stayed in our house for weeks after we moved out. He stayed. And, he is like me. He hurts. He listens to sad music to cry. To feel.

So...on Thanksgiving, I was overwhelmed and so happy that this song came to me on shuffle. I just started crying. I'm thankful for a lot, but I am really sad about a lot too. I wish I could pull my sadness from my being and rid myself of it. I wish I knew how to do that, so that I didn't carry it with me. But, I'm sad. Sad about things I can't even make sentences out of. Sad about things that don't form into words and roll off the tongue. These are things you are sad about in your soul and they well up in your eyes. Sad in your stomach muscles and tightened lips. And in this song...this beautifully emotional song I can let it all go for a fleeting moment...and be thankful for that.

And, it was this that made me see it. Squinting. I saw it. Our likeness may not be physical. It may not be our mannerisms or habits. But, it is found in how we feel. Or, don't. Or, try to. We turn on a song to feel and we do. We are the same.

more leftovers

Okay, so to pick up where we left off....

Cuddle Gate 2009. Yeah, we had a layover in Pittsburgh for about two hours and the second the train stopped I was out of there. Not that I was in a race to do nothing at the train station...I was just in a race to do nothing at the train station away from my train buddy. Sad thing is that the Pittsburgh train station is about the size of my studio apartment. Well, this is what I had to say about the experience:

The upside is that I believe that passing out on my bosom and remaining alcohol free for a few hours sobered my friend up a little bit. Hopefully he was embarrassed when he woke up in my chest and decided to avoid me as much as I avoided him in the closet they call a train station in Pittsburgh.

The rest of the train trip was uneventful. Long and uneventful. Just like I wanted. I will leave you with the highlights of my trip home because you don't want to read all the details and I don't want to type them:

• I lounged around at my dad's house...a lot, which was basically awesome.
• My dad plays an embarrassing amount of Spider Solitaire on his computer. After a few days I found myself rushing to the computer to play it.
  
• I had a sleep over with my grandparents.
• I went with my grandparents to get them hearing aids.
• My grandmother scolded the hearing aid lady and said, "You really don't need to scream at us." This was once she got the hearing aid in and on. Awesome thing was that the woman was actually talking quietly.
  
• Learned that my grandfather LOVES flipping through the channels on the television NON STOP! This is a little lie because he did stop a few times and once was after about 100 channels. He stopped...on the Terminator...in Spanish. My grandfather doesn't speak a lick of Spanish. He may be thinking of learning though. Watching Spanish television may be his way of immersing himself in the language.
  
• My brother and sister-in-law came the day before Thanksgiving.
• Baked a kick ass pumpkin cheesecake
  
• Ate and drank too much on Thanksgiving
  
• May have gotten slightly drunk, but was overshadowed by my uncle who definitely got drunk.
  
• Played LCR and now I want a set of LCR dice so bad
  
• Got no pity during LCR when I proclaimed, "Remember, I have no job. I need money."
• Went to the beach. Yes, the Jersey Shore, but without the spiked hair and spray tans.
  
• Had some great talks with my dad.
• Played about ten rounds of Catch Phrase with my family. Young People vs. Old People.
  
• Young People kicked ass.
• Laughed my ass off when my cousin Keirsten was trying to get us to guess "Detroit Tigers," and gave the clue, "capitol of Michigan." (She is a high school teacher.)
• Oh, and when she was trying to get us to guess tiger she yelled, "God dammit another cat name!" after we guess, "Lion, jaguar, panther..."
• Threw up in my mouth watching zit porn. (Be. Warned.)
  
• Enjoyed a relatively boring train trip home and no one tried to molest me.
  
• I did have to listen to a crazy man who didn't pick up on social queues of when to stop talking to strangers. He went as far as to tell this 80 year old woman that he loved her and was so happy they met. He gave her a hug and over his shoulders she rolled her eyes at me.
  
• She became my hero.
• Developed a disdain for Pittsburgh after my four hour lay over there.
  
• Found out that the entire "city" of Pittsburgh shuts down at 9pm.
• Took a cab home and was reminded why I love Chicago as we drove down Lake Shore Drive during the sunrise.
  
• Realized that New Jersey will forever hold a special place in my heart and I will always love it, but Chicago is my soul mate.

spice up your life

I always had pet growing up. There was always some animal or something living in our house. Most of the time it was dogs, but we did have our fair share of fish, turtles, cats, and hamsters.

My younger brother was probably too little to remember the turtles or the hamsters...and he wasn't even alive for the cats. But, he always asked for a pet of his own. You see, we had a dog for the majority of his life. The dog was mine, Alfie. Although he was a "family" dog, he was really my dog. He was given to me for Christmas in seventh grade. He was probably the best present I have ever gotten. I loved him like he was my child.

It wasn't that my brother didn't like Alfie. On the contrary, he loved Alfie. He just wanted something to call his own. So, after much begging my parents gave in and bought him a hamster. I'm not really sure why. We had done the whole hamster thing in the past. It never ends well. Hamsters are kind of boring pets. They don't do much. You lose interest after a while. Its probably a terrible thing to say, but it's just the truth. But, for whatever reason, my parents decided on a hamster for my brother.

My brother went through an interesting stage in late elementary school. He was very into music. I'm sort of at a loss of words for how to describe his musical taste, so I will just share that he named the hamster Baby Spice. That's right, after the Spice Girl.

We quickly learned that Baby Spice was no regular hamster. There was the whole incident a few months after we got her when my mom was very concerned Baby Spice was pregnant because she had a weird "growth." My mom called the vet to describe what the hamster looked like and to have her suspicions confirmed. Turns out my mom was very wrong. Baby Spice was definitely not pregnant...she just had giant balls. That's right, Baby Spice was a boy. She was a he. Even after learning her true sex we never changed his name.

But, the mistaken gender issue aside, Baby Spice was unlike any other pet we had ever owned. (Forgive me in advance because I will probably get the the gender appropriate pronouns mixed up from time to time.) Yes, in addition to being well endowed, Baby Spice had a taste for adventure. He was constantly escaping his little hamster cage. Nothing ever stopped him. At one time he chewed a hole through the side of the plastic hamster cage just to get out. Baby Spice went missing on more occasions than I can even recall. His favorite thing to do was to escape and run through the air vents of our house for a few days. He would usually come out after we would set up food and call him through the vents. But, for the sake of entertainment I will list for you some of the most memorable places Baby Spice was found including the length of time that had elapsed from his escape.

1. In a small trash can, waiting to be emptied, that was sitting on the steps leading to the garage of our house- missing for a couple of days
2. In the bushes in the front yard- missing for about a month
   
3. In the air vent in my bedroom- missing for a couple days
4. In the air vent in our laundry room (lured out by a song my mom made up about Baby Spice...and food)- missing at least a week
5. In the garage- missing for almost two months

Yep, Baby Spice had a taste for adventure. We were sure that last trip was it. After over a month went by we were sure Baby Spice was gone. We cranked up the heat and then the air hoping to flush him out of the air vents if that is where he was hiding. No luck. So, we sort of gave up. With no weird smells we figured Baby Spice found some pack of wild hamsters and was gone for good. Or dead somewhere. It was the middle of summer and it was over 100 degrees almost ever day. How could one little hamster survive all alone? Apparently by taking up residence in your garage and eating through a 40lb. bag of dog food. That's right. I found Baby Spice in our garage really late one night. I wanted to wake everyone up in the whole house because I was so amazed. It was like capturing Big Foot or spotting Loch Ness. Baby Spice was considered to be gone forever and he was back!

Since it was late I left notes on every one's bedroom door saying to check Baby Spice's cage...he had been brought back into captivity.

Turns out captivity didn't suit him very well. He died the next day. You took the whole, "give me liberty or give me death," thing a little too far don't you think, Baby Spice?

Needless to say, we will never get another hamster. You should think about not getting one as well.

to see my dad...

I don't think I ever shared that I am, in fact, going to see my dad for Thanksgiving. I am leaving Thursday evening. And, yes, I am taking the train. It will take me about 23 hours, but I am looking forward to every minute of it. Honestly, I am. Even more exciting is that my brother and sister-in-law decided to come to New Jersey as well for the holiday. While they will not be there nearly as long as me (I'm going to be there for over a week), I am super pumped to see them and get to spend time with them as well.

I won't lie that going to see my family causes me some anxiety. I have all these irrational thoughts and fears about them thinking I am too fat, that I will want to come home as soon as I get there, that for some reason my clothes are going to look really out of place, blah blah blah. Like I said, these fears are all irrational. No, I don't look like a model. I won't blow my family away with how I look, but I bet that the first thing they think when they see me is, "Wow, Emily sure hasn't lost any weight."

But, aside from my slight anxiety, I am really excited. I haven't seen my dad in over a year. I will be honest and say that I have learned how to miss my dad. I mean, it is not in the cold hearted way that it may sound. It is just that we moved away from my dad when I was nine years old. I have lived in different states than him for pretty much two thirds of my life. You learn how not to constantly miss someone. One main reason is that it is hard to miss thing about people that you don't know. You don't miss the little things about them because you never got to learn them.

I love my dad a lot though. And, I have not doubt that he loves me. I won't say our relationship is without complication. Clearly there will be some complication when you grow up removed from a parent. But, I don't think I have some weird daddy issues. I've had therapists who have tried to get me to admit I have daddy issues...that I have some great hurt over my relationship or at times lack of relationship with my father. I don't. But, protesting and saying how much I really don't have any issues with my dad only makes them think that I must have some underlying problem. I get it. I use to make that same mistake with clients before. You ask them something and they adamantly protest...it's like the old "thoust dost protest too much" argument. Problem with that is that sometimes it is honest. Sometimes things are as people say. But anyway, now that I have gone on for a while about how I don't have some pent up daddy issue and probably thoroughly convinced you that I do...I will say a few things. While my relationship with my dad is at times complicated, its complications pale in comparison to those I have with my mother. My dad has been nothing but supportive of me in my life and makes a point to tell me that he supports whatever it is that I want or need to do. Whenever I think of taking a leap of faith, he is always the first person to tell me he believes in me. He may not always say he will pick me up if I fall, but I have no doubt that he would. He says he will and does put my brother and I before anyone else in his life. He tells me how it broke his heart when we moved away. He always says I love you. And, I always believe him.

The last one...is hard for me. To be loved and truly believe it...for me is rare. There are few people in this world who I can say that I don't question. It's a flaw. It is something I hope to overcome, but in the mean time I am glad my dad sits in the small camp of people I can trust when they say those three words. So, I guess it doesn't matter that he doesn't know the names of all my friends. That he probably couldn't tell you my favorite TV show. That he doesn't know what I eat for breakfast (or that I really only eat it after 10am). That he doesn't know my bad habits. That he rarely ever saw a report card. That he doesn't know my favorite restaurant or what kind of wine I would order. He can't tell my mood just from a hello on the phone. But, he loves me, which is bigger than any of the small details.

And, I'm excited to see him.

all aboard

So, I came to this realization the other day that I haven't seen my dad in over a year. That just seems like such a long time. It is not because we have some strained relationship or tension. We don't. I guess that not seeing him has become normalized for me and I let a year get away. There is much more detail I could go into about my relationship with my dad and whatnot, but I will leave that for another post. Today, I will be talking about what came from my realization that it had been 15 months since I had seen my father.


Visit him. Yep, pure genius. I know. Amazing isn't it? With all this time off. Not working and all, why not visit him? Money has been a factor, but I came up with an even more ingenious plan. I called my dad up and said, "Wouldn't it be great if I could come to New Jersey for Thanksgiving?" He said that it would and I responded, "I have been thinking. What if you bought me a ticked to come see you for Thanksgiving? That could be my Christmas present. You wouldn't have to get me anything else."

So, a ticket hasn't been purchased at this point, but I am feeling pretty optimistic that it will be. I am actually really pumped. Not that I don't get excited to see my dad and the rest of my family...it is just that it feels like it has been so long. I am excited to just hang out. Eat lots of good food. Do a puzzle with my grandmother. Show my grandfather pictures. Laugh with my cousins about stuff we did when we were kids. Just enjoy my family. So fingers crossed that everything works out.

Oh, and because I don't do things without a touch of crazy I need to note that this ticket I am requesting is an Amtrak ticket. Before you go freaking out that I am opting to spend 20 some hours on a train as opposed to 2 hours in a plane, I need to explain. One, I do not like flying. I actually hate it. I actually feel like someone is torturing me. Terrible. Anxiety. This doesn't mean I don't do it. I do, but when I have all the time in the world why do I need to go the quick and painful route? Second, I actually really enjoy the train. Like, I embarrassingly love it. I. Heart. Train. And third, the ticket was cheaper because it is like the busiest travel time for airlines. People normally don't have the time for train travel over the long weekend that is Thanksgiving. I do. So, I am going Amtrak.

However, the above does not really get at my crazy. This does:


Yep, somehow I found myself on the Federal Railroad Administration Office of Safety Analysis website looking up train wreck statistics. Awesome.

trying to get to the bottom of things...

I am just going to begin by saying that the entire contents of this post may be completely inappropriate or way more information then you want or need to know about me. But, this mouth isn't filtered. Sorry. Deal with it.

I called my older brother last night to chat. I text him earlier in the day and he said he would call me back. I was getting impatient, so I called him around 6pm. He said, "Oh weird. Don't do that again. I was just thinking that I forgot to call you back and then the phone rang." I'm pretty much a psychic...if you didn't know that. Just letting you know.


Anyway, we talked about our plans for Thanksgiving and then I interrupted him and said," Wait, real fast, can I ask you a question? I just started drinking coffee so I don't know if this is normal. Does your pee smell like coffee if that is all you drink for the morning? Normally my pee doesn't have a smell because I drink so much water, but today it totally smelled like coffee."

Brother is laughing uncontrollably.

I continued, "Like, I know your...or any one's pee smells weird if they eat asparagus or something like that, but does coffee do the same thing?"

Brother still laughing.

Me, "I'm serious." I start laughing.

He never really gave me an answer. He said, "Emily, you're a freak. What happens in your head?"

I didn't know how to answer that. I don't know. All I know is what happened in the toilet. And, it smelled like coffee.

I came across this a few days ago and couldn't put it out of my mind. Sometimes the most simple of signs are the ones we need to see the most. And, when we need to see them, they make an impact.

This whole unemployment thing that I've been doing for the past couple of months has been an interesting journey. It is odd. I have almost forgotten what it is like to actually get up for work and have a daily responsibility. My weeks generally revolve around two or three different commitments. After that, the rest is up to me. Regrettably, I have not been making the most of that time. I will say that I have a tendency to be very hard on myself. Extremely. Hard. In the past couple of weeks I have been struggling with my purpose. I put a lot of stock in my purpose in life...the footprints I leave in this world. I've begun to fear that no matter how hard I walk right now...those footprints are non-existent. It's one of my biggest fears.

I will admittedly share that I am not really looking for a job, which makes it a little difficult given that I put a lot of emphasis on my career to give my life purpose. The fact that I am not even looking is much to the chagrin of some of my closest friends and some family members. There is a reason for my decision though. In addition to putting stock in leading a purpose driven life...I put an equal amount in happiness. I fear that I won't find happiness if I just seek out any random job that will hire me. I want to find it within. What better way to do that then to have all the time in the world to discover it?

You see, if I were a betting woman I would say that all my chips get evenly split between purpose and happiness. I just truly believe that when you do that...all in...the returns are tenfold.

For those who are concerned, I do have a plan. I'm working with two great friends on a start-up company, which I am over the moon excited about. I really do believe that it will be a great thing and afford all of us some amazing opportunities to be happy, creative, playful, energetic, free, expressive...

So, in the mean time, I wait. I've had big plans to do this "Month of Emily" thing. I've wanted to focus on discovering happiness, taking care of me, and doing good things for myself. For some reason, it just seems to get fucked up on day two (okay maybe one) every time I try. It is just that in this time I have a lot of varying emotions: excitement for what may be, anxiety for what currently is, paralysis from fear, and a host of others. They seem to get in my way.

Perhaps the trick is simply saying it out loud (or as out loud as the blog allows). Today, is day one of the "Month of Emily." I will work on making sure I don't hold back on any of my proverbial chips and place them all in happiness and purpose. Holding back gets you in trouble.

As simple as that sign is, it was just what I needed to see. Everything is going to be amazing. I don't need to worry. All I need to do is play my part in making it a reality.

pulling up the rug

I've struggled with writing this post because the magnitude of this topic is so far reaching for me. As many of you are aware, October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. A handful of you probably know that it is Domestic Violence Awareness Month, as well. I would say that it surprises me how few people actually know about Domestic Violence Awareness Month, but that would not be true. Domestic violence, at its core, is something we shy away from. So, it makes sense that the month dedicated to raising awareness is not always highlighted as it should be.

It's something people don't like to talk about. Don't like to acknowledge. It is something that many people would be happy just sweeping under the rug. The one flaw with this mentality is that there is not a rug big enough to hide the realities of domestic violence. One in every four women will experience domestic violence in her lifetime. And while it's not something that is exclusive to the female experience, 85% of all domestic violence survivors are women.
I spent years working in the field of domestic violence. It is an issue very close to my heart and perhaps the topic I can discuss with more passion than anything else. I used to say that I would never do anything else professionally. I saw myself working in the field until retirement. Something changed along the way. It wasn't that it was too depressing. In fact, when I told people what I did for a living the first reaction of a great majority of people was, "that's so sad." Others changed the subject as quickly as possible. I always explained that it wasn't a sad career. My time working in shelters was quite often happy. Yes, there were very sad stories. Heartbreaking stories. Yes, I closed my office door on more then one occasion and cried. However, the shelter was a place of hope. The shelter represented change, whether for a lifetime or a day, in the lives of the women and children who walked through the doors. It was a choice I made, but I chose to see it as a very positive place.

So, it wasn't "sad." And, I didn't leave because it became too depressing. But, it became heavy. I have an insane memory. I can recall a name or a face of someone I met once, years ago, almost instantly. This skill was often called upon at the shelter. I would be asked to join a meeting and would be given a few facts about a woman and her children- I could usually recall her first and last name and the details of previous shelter stays. It came in handy. I knew the details of the stories of almost every woman staying in the shelter. I took notes, but rarely needed them. I just absorbed it all. I could see their faces and their stories in my head. I still can. As I type I remember their names. I moved away and was offered a job outside of the domestic violence field. The break allowed me to reflect and what I realized was that the work became so heavy on my heart. I still see their faces. I still remember their stories. What became harder was that I saw and still see the faces and story of my own family.

You see, we have our own rug we do some sweeping under. We rarely ever talk about it. Once when I was practicing in front of my brother for a public appearance I was going to be making, he questioned the 1 in every 4 statistic. He said, "that's really high, isn't it?" So, I get why someone who hasn't experienced it first hand has trouble grasping the sheer gravity of how widespread the problem is. I get that people can't put a face to it. My brother, who had my face, who had my mom's face...who had his own face...couldn't.

I know the story of a woman who said she didn't deserve better. I know the story of a girl who feared going to school because there was a chance her mother would not live to see her make it home. I know the story of a woman who said she didn't feel loved by a man who didn't beat her. I know the story of a boy who knew his mother only by the name "Bitch," it was all he ever heard her called. I know the story of a woman who said, "he only choked me a little." I know the story of a child who called the four walls of a shelter the only home she ever knew. I know the story of a woman who died at the hands of the one she loved the most.

I know their stories. One of them is mine.

Please, know how real it is. Talk about it. It is the only way to shine light under the rug.

Again with F*cking Disney stuff...

I just got off of the phone with my little brother. He called because I emailed him this video. You see, after I wrote my last post with this video linked I became nostalgic and started watching other videos. Twenty minutes later after singing along I had this out of body experience where I saw myself watching effing Disney videos on youtube at about 1AM...I wanted to hide from myself because it was that embarrassing.

Anyway, I sent my brother the video (linked above) because he was this huge Lion King fan when he was little. He would bring all of his stuffed animals into the living room and blast the soundtrack. It always ended up with him hobbling around and triumphantly holding his Winnie the Poo stuffed animal up in the air (a la Rafiki and Simba).


Oh, he would also sit at his little plastic piano and pretend to be Elton John as he would sign along to Can You Feel the Love Tonight.

As a twelve year old, I didn't find this cute. As an almost twenty-eight year old (yes, my birthday is one week from today even though I am sure you already know that because it is on your calendar and you have a countdown just like I do), I think it is adorable and it makes me miss my brother.

This brings us to today. He called to say he got my email and it made him laugh. He asked what I was doing and why this even crossed my mind. I explained the whole Little Mermaid link from my last post and he started laughing. He then busted out, "Look at this stuff. Isn't it neat? Wouldn't ya think my collections complete?" He laughed. I laughed. And then I said, "Wouldn't ya think I'm a girl, a girl who has everything." He again laughed, as did I. Then he says, "I've got gadgets and gizmos aplenty." To which I joined in, "I've got whozits and whatzits galore. You want thingamabobs, I've got twenty." Five minutes later finishing the song off...we officially became losers.

This, right here, is why I need a job.

being horizontal

So, I've been having trouble sleeping. Or, I've been having trouble going to sleep. And, in bed before 1am? Never happens. This is nothing that is a secret. I've blogged about it. And, if you are paying attention to the time stamps you are well aware of this anyway.

I talked to my doctor about it. He gave me this sleep program to follow to retrain myself. Basically, I need to pick a minimum sleep threshold and a time I want to wake up at. I can only be in bed for the minimum sleep threshold. so, if i want to sleep eight hours and wake up at 8am i am to get in bed at midnight. No matter how long it takes me to fall asleep I am suppose to get up at 8am. Eventually (or so he says) this will retrain me and put me back on a schedule. But, he strictly said, "You can not be horizontal for any other time during the day. No naps whatsoever."



I shared this with my mom. She responded, "What if you go on a date and want to have sex?"

"Ummmmm, ooookay. We're just going to pretend you didn't say that."

(The truth is though that I've made this same comment to most of my friends when discussing said sleep plan. I just don't need my mom to go there.)

there are two exits above the wing

Several years ago I went out for sushi with my older brother. I really love going out to eat with my brother. We get into some of the most interesting conversations. We sit for much longer than we actually need to and just talk. It may be a common trait of the men in my family. Well, those blood related to me. When I was little and my parents first divorced, my dad only took us out to dinner. He knew how to cook about three things...so, he just chose to take us out. Anyway, my brother, dad, and I would get into the best conversations. We would sit for hours after eating just talking. And, it is one of my favorite memories of the two of them. Not one particular time, but the practice of doing it. Something about being in a restaurant allowed us to be really open and honest and really talk. We would have these great conversations. We would always say we would continue them after we left the restaurant...when we realized that we were the only patrons left. But, it was never the same. I don't know. Something about sitting at the table. It may be like sitting in a puffy chair at a counselors office. You just become so incredibly honest and open to discussion.

Anyway, my brother asked me, "What is it that you want in a relationship?" See, I have terrible luck with guys. Mainly because I have terrible taste and have an affinity for putting up with what I do not deserve. So, my brother posed this question to me. After some thought, I responded, "Well, I want someone who will come after me if I walked out the door."

I was very proud of my response. It seemed incredibly romantic. I imagined someone loving me with such a passion that they would never want to let me go. They would go to the end of the earth to be with me. I would be what gave them life.

My brother looked at me and responded, "That's fucked up."

What? How could my romanticized idea of perfection be "fucked up?" Well, I couldn't let this question go unanswered...so, I asked.

My brother began by saying, "You shouldn't be walking out the door." He explained that me romanticizing a relationship in which I leave was not healthy. Surely he didn't understand. See, this was romantic. I would storm out of the room. My lover would chase after me and grab me by the arm (in a nonviolent way) and tell me why he couldn't live without me. We would kiss passionately and live happily ever after because we knew how much we loved one another. We would go to any length to be together. We would fight for our love. See. Very romantic. How could my brother not understand this?

He continued to discuss this "walking out the door issue." Apparently he felt like it was immature and a way to test the love of my partner. As if I would leave in the hopes of them following. My brother said that his hope for me was that I would never want to walk out the door.

I had to let this sink in for a second.

Why did I romanticize walking out on my partner? Why did I feel that having my partner chase after me once I left was the recipe for an ideal relationship? And again, why would I be walking out in the first place?

It has been years since that conversation, but I think I know some of the answers to the questions I had so long ago. No, it isn't because I've met Prince Charming. No one has swept me off my feet. But, what I do have is a little more understanding of myself.

It was never about me walking out the door. I thought it was. I thought that it would be so wonderfully romantic to have someone chase after me. No, it wasn't about that. it was about trusting that they cared. You see, wanting a man to chase after me was how I felt as if I would know for certain that they loved me. That if they came after me, surely they loved me.

So, it wasn't about me walking out the door, but me knowing and believing that I was loved. It's a hard thing to do. To fully embrace someone's love for you. Well, it is for me at least. And, I am not sure I even know how to do that today. I still don't trust with full certainty some love that should be unquestioned. It's a flaw. I know.

But, if I were to find myself at dinner with my brother again and he were to ask me about what I wanted in a relationship, I would have another answer for him. I would share that what I would want was security. Security in our love. Faith that nothing could break it. I would know at the core that I was loved. And, I would have a knowledge that it is never to be tested. Not in the way I use to want to test love. I would allow the love to happen. I wouldn't create situations to have my partner prove it to me. I would be there. And the man I am with would be there too. Fully present in the relationship. Ups and downs. There. No walking out. No bailing. Because it would be worth it. And, I would always know that there is no door to walk out. For either of us.

oh, i'm jumping on that bandwagon

so, i recently started this whole blog thing. one may not know it based off of the excessive number of posts i've made in the past few days; however, if one were truly following the blog one would know that i am unemployed and have more time than the average person on my hands.

anyway, i stumbled across a jewel of a blog today: The Rest is Still Unwritten. seriously, this dude is amazing. besides the fact that he is an amazingly raw, real, and emotional writer...he is super cute. but really, you don't even need to see his picture to love this guy. the way he writes and the things he says make you (or at least me anyway) want to be loved by him. perhaps i am crazy. all i'm sayin' is just read his blog before you judge.

he wrote this post where he shared 101 things about him. it was chock full of random facts about him...stuff most people wouldn't know. now, if you know me really well, you know that i have a book on my coffee table that is basically this same principle, "Dailey Dose of Emily." (P.S. the first entry is that i can not spell...i know that daily was misspelled.) but, i was inspired to write more. or to try to at least. perhaps there will be some repetition, but just as my new blog crush i will attempt to be completely honest...rolling funny, sad, shocking, scary, silly, and the like all into one.

1. i was voted Best Personality in high school, but i am afraid to go to my reunion because i don't think anyone will remember me. the truth is that i only really won because so many people got nominated that i was the one with the majority...it wasn't overwhelming though.

2. i have in irrational fear of peeing my pants. when a bathroom is not immediately accessible i suddenly have an overwhelming urge to pee. (for the record i have not peed myself in over two decades)

3. i remember the night we moved out of the house we shared with my dad. my mom's friend's yelled at me for having so much shit under my bed. really? was that the appropriate thing to do to a young kid who really didn't know they were moving?

4. i wanted a SkipIt so bad in third grade. all the cool girls had them on the playground.

5. i never got one.

6. i one upped them and got a boyfriend.

7. i get ridiculously excited about buying new panties and have spent more money at victoria's secret than i should admit to.

8. my mom didn't know that my new year's resolution in high school to "stop falling asleep on the bathroom floor" had nothing to do with me working late hours and everything to do with me smoking pot.

9. my brother, cousins, and i made up this story about a dead dog that was kept under the bed at my grandmother's house. we use to try to get my youngest cousin (who wasn't in on secret) to stick her hand down the side of the bed to touch it. we laughed when she wouldn't and started crying.

10. i've never cheated on someone.

11. i've been cheated on more times than i would like to think about.

12. i wonder if it is me or that i have terrible taste in guys.

13. i always won the sit and reach competition in school.

14. i secretly wouldn't mind being a stay at home mom.

15. my dad has told both my brother and i at one point that we were adopted. he probably kept the joke alive longer than necessary- neither of us really are adopted.

16. i am really good at fake crying.

17. i've always said that i would marry a guy if he bought me breyer's mint chocolate chip ice cream.

18. i go so far out of my way to make my partner happy that i probably turn them away.

19. my parents have told me that when i was a kid and we would eat at this one particular restaurant all i would order and eat was cole slaw

20. i have memories of cheating on a spelling test in first grade.

21. i memorized the homeless people on my route home from work and would get worried when i didn't see them...i was afraid something happened to them.

22. i went to europe for five weeks in college. i got really homesick even though i was with by brother and his best friend. and i did go to school anywhere near "home," so it didn't really make sense.

23. i've never ridden a horse.

24. i loaned an ex-boyfriend $500 to pay for his DUI lawyer because he couldn't stop drinking and save money. he never fully paid me back. surprise.

25. my heart melts when guys kiss me on my forehead.

26. i talked to my dog alfie as if he were going to respond.

27. i drank about a bottle and a half of vodka when we put him to sleep.

28. i still miss him.

29. when i see a large grassy hill or field i have this overwhelming urge to take off running toward it.

30. i giggle if someone farts in the stall next to me.

31. if i see something in a store that i like...i touch it.

32. i miss my brothers more than they know.

33. college was the first school i went to for more three years.

34. i got a tattoo with my best friend because we were eating breakfast and couldn't think of anything else to do that day.

35. i never throw away the fortunes from fortune cookies. i think it is bad luck.

36. i've spent the entire day in a towel watching tv because i was too lazy to put on clothes after a shower.

37. on two occasions i called in sick to work saying that the dog was throwing up...the dog was not throwing up.

38. i have no gall bladder, well, except for the stuffed one my friend bought me.

39. my heart still beats fast when i watch My So Called Life and Jordan Catalano grabs Angela's hand in the hallway so that everyone can see.

40. i once told a doctor i was 16 after he asked my age. i was 18. i don't even know why i said it.

41. it still makes me happy when Rerun jumps on the back of the truck at the end of the credits for What's Happening!!

42. i recognize it would make more sense for the punctuation after What's Happening to be a question mark, but the show uses two exclamation points.

43. i think i started experiencing major depression in high school. my parent's thought i was just being overly dramatic and perhaps i did too. all i know is that i couldn't make it stop.

44. my parents never talked about God at home, so i become really uncomfortable talking about him with other people. i just don't know if i think it is one of those things you should talk about or just let it be private.

45. out of stubbornness i peed in a trashcan because my older brother wouldn't get off of the toilet. i could have used another bathroom. (i was probably 7 years old for the record)

46. i bite the inside of my cheek when i am nervous.

47. after my first kiss the boy tried to do much more. he didn't care that i said no.

48. i have more pillows on my bed than any one person needs.

49. i really only use two to sleep with. i like the rest there to make the bed feel more full.

50. i started skiing when i was four years old.

51. i sometimes felt hypocritical working at a domestic violence shelter when i continued to ignore what happened in my own family.

52. i become more passionate talking about domestic violence than probably anything else i ever talk about.

53. i worry more than i let on that no one really loves me.

54. i moved to nashville because a boy broke my heart.

55. i told a boy i was dating he was gay...because he was. he cried and said he was scared. i held his hand.

56. he is my friend today, but i probably still love him.

57. i can drink most guys under the table.

58. i never turn down a free shot.

59. i started wearing a bra before any of the other girls in my class. i was really embarrassed about having boobs and didn't want anyone to know.

60. i still sometimes think my boobs are overwhelming.

61. i secretly find it sexy when guys smoke.

62. some of my most fond memories of my mom are from when she was sick and i would crawl in bed with her. i felt like she really needed and wanted me there.

63. some days i can't get out of bed. i would like to...i just don't know how.

64. i never told anyone how abandoned i felt after they said they would be there for me...and weren't. it was as if everyone left me alone at that doctor's office.

65. i feel much safer on a plane when the flight attendants are walking around. when i was younger and afraid to fly. i would push the attendant call button just to make them get up and walk over to me. i knew that if we were crashing they wouldn't do that.

66. i am almost always running low on or out of toilet paper.

67. i don't know how to whistle or snap my fingers.

68. i didn't dissect animals in middle school because the "cool" girls weren't doing it. i wasn't really all that grossed out.

69. i want to be swept off my feet by someone who loves me in a hoodie and yoga pants.

70. i give a pretty good back massage.

71. i know i really like someone if i'm not nervous to be naked in front of them.

72. i use to write fake diary entries when i was little because my stepsister wanted to read what i wrote.

73. i started watching soap operas when i was nine. i got hooked because my grandfather watched them. whenever we would see each other we would talk about the latest love triangles.

74. i've never had anyone really close to me die. i am terrified for it to happen.

75. i have a box labeled "stuff only i care about." it couldn't be more true.

76. i had a troll collection when i was a kid. it is rather embarrassing how large it was.

77. what is even more embarrassing is that i can't bring myself to get rid of any of them.

78. i've never stolen anything, well that i can remember.

79. i regularly wonder if my friends really like me because i have a hard time liking myself some times.

80. my hair gets really messy when i sleep and i call it chicken hair. my family has adopted the phrase and we use it as if it is a real word.

81. i always felt like i was compared to my older brother growing up and that i could never be as good as he was. i spent a lot of time trying to be like him but never feeling like i measured up. what i am now realizing is that there was no "as good as" because we are just different people...you can't measure us like that.

82. i am excited to move into an assisted living community one day. i can't wait to just hang out with my friends and do nothing.

83. i think breakfast for dinner is a cop out and when i have a family of my own i will not make them eat it.

84. there is nothing sexier than waking up in the middle of the night next to someone and continuing as if you never went to sleep.

85. the thought of living in the suburbs now scares me.

86. when i'm in a relationship, i never do the whole "i've got a headache" thing.

87. my mom, brother, and i lived in a trailer park for a few months after my parents separated.

88. i don't usually know how to back down in a argument.

89. i had two imaginary friends growing up.

90. peppy party was the main one.

91. amy was the other. she was my sister. she lived in florida, but was dead because she smoked cigarettes.

92. i obviously had an overactive imagination when i was younger.

93. i convinced by older brother to flood our upstairs bathroom with me when i was about four or five. i have no idea why i was doing it...or why he went along.

94. my mom says she had trouble yelling at me when i was a kid because i would just laugh and she couldn't keep a straight face.

95. i don't really sound like an adult on the phone.

96. although i am extremely indecisive, when i make a decision i firmly believe in it and rarely ever waiver.

97. watching the videos from when my little brother was on tour with his band make me realize he is probably cooler than me.

98. i don't always wash my hands in a public restroom. for some reason, i think it makes them dirtier. for that reason i try to always carry hand sanitizer.

99. i think pigeons are beautiful.

100. when i hold hands with someone i want my hand to be on the bottom.

101. there are people out there that probably don't know it, but they saved my life.

time check

yep, that's right. it is after 5am. i am awake. writing a blog. i don't really know how this happened. somehow during this unemployment thing i'm doing this summer i took on the sleeping habits of an infant. societal norms...forget about 'em. i sleep on no man's schedule. well, perhaps a man that works really odd hours. but, it is a terrible schedule we'll just say that.

i've found myself awake well into the night (ehem, morning) for the past several days. it is starting to become a problem. i've shared this concern with others and have received a myriad of advice: just sleep when you are tired, take advantage of it and have fun, just lay there until you fall asleep, go to walgreens and get an over the counter allergy medicine. that last one was from my mother. she said, "it will make you drowsy and if your allergies are bothering you it will help with that too." to which i responded, "my allergies are not bothering me." and she said, "well just try it." coincidentally, my older brother told me that she gave him similar advice. when he informed her his allergies were bad she said, "go to walgreens and get an over the counter sleep aid. it will help your allergies and it will also help you sleep." to which he stated, "i'm not having trouble sleeping." she said, "well your sister is." (what?)

perhaps if my brother and I were conjoined twins it would be a good deal. you know those girls (apparently named Abby and Brittany) with the one body and two heads...well, when one is sick the other has to take the medicine. i heard it when they were on oprah or something.



P.S. i had to put this actual picture in here...not like the school photo hyperlinked above. how can two people ride one bike and get the timing right when I can barely ride a bike and I only have one brain controlling me?

HOLD THE PHONE i just found this picture:





...talk about an awkward place for your twin. "uhm, could you skewtch to the side? i need to pee."

this is meant to be no offense to conjoined twins. in fact, i can't get enough of them.

but really, back to what i was originally saying...perhaps my mom was thinking of this same principle (the Abby and Brittany medicine principle) when she "prescribed" me medication for allergies and my brother medication for sleep...there will be some cross pollination or whatever it does when one person takes a medicine and another feels the benefit. but, P.S. my mother is not a doctor or a pharmacist. you would not know it though by looking at her medicine cabinet, which by the way spills out from the actual medicine cabinet into two others...another one in the bathroom and one in the kitchen. let's just say she is prepared for anything.

anyway, the point is...i can't sleep. i did get really tired today (well, yesterday) at 7:30pm. i decided to seize the opportunity and go to bed. i figured that the worst thing that would happen would be that i would wake up at 6am or something and perhaps get back on a normal schedule. nope. 2am. i was wide awake. so my little plan failed and here i sit writing about how i wish i could be sleeping. oh, and google image searching the hell out of some Abby and Brittany. conjoined twins get me every time.

(oh, and don't believe the time stamp below...it was 4am when i started writing. after a bathroom break. a break to get some water. and, some google image searching...it is 5am)