Yes, I'm still waiting.

I had a little heart-to-heart conversation with a friend about sex the other day.

What it means to me, what I expect from it, what it will change inside of me when I have it...

Because the twenty-eight-year-old virgin is still a thing.

Several friends, well-meaning as I assume them to be, have told me that 'getting it over with' is my best bet for a normal life. Because the idea of virginity is just some male construct that lets the world determine my value instead of me determining it for myself. Yes, there is an actual physical barrier that God (or the universe or whoever) created inside my body, but biology has nothing to do with my worth, so sex and virginity is really not a big deal, and I shouldn't treat it as such.

A few (very few) friends have told me that I'm amazing, and they wish they had waited because sex is confusing and makes that 'normal life' so much more complicated than it should be. Because since I'm older, I'm, supposedly, smarter, and I can make better choices for myself than I might have if I had decided to have sex in high school like so many of my friends did. And yes, there is the little awkward bit where I have to tell people "Sorry, I'm not into sex," but if someone only wants me for my body, then they're not worth it anyway, and I shouldn't give them the time of day.

When I was younger, I dreamed of a big white wedding, the dress, the cake, the whole shebang, and then the real shebang on my wedding night. I didn't necessarily mind if he had a little more experience than I did, but I was going to let the world know that he was my one and only, and that my body was a sacred temple that could only be accessed after the both of us took vows to love, honor, and worship at my temple and my temple only, all other gods forsaken. The night would be thrilling and awe-inspiring, and even a little nerve-wracking, but it was going to be the absolute first night of my sexual education and awakening, and it was going to be bliss.

I still want a nice wedding, of course --though I'm preferring blue to white these days, and I've cut my theoretical guest list from about one hundred and sixty to just twenty-- but I've come to the realization that having a 'one and only' is not the only path to happiness. If I get lucky, that's all fine and dandy, but if I find a guy who turns all my dials, I'm not going to let some old-fashioned notion, however ingrained into my person it is, stop me from letting go and having a little fun. I don't need a priest and a few signatures on paper to find my bliss, and if that bliss happens to come from more than one person, my temple will still be just as holy.

So yes, I'm still waiting.

I'm waiting for someone who makes me feel special.

I'm waiting for someone who cares enough to want me to feel special.

I'm waiting for the right mood, the right moment, the right look in his eyes that will tell me, "Yes, it's time."

But am I going to wait for an "I do" just because my mother tells me so?

Not a chance.

Because if I let it all happen to me instead of going out and making things happen myself, then I'll just be another passive-aggressive little girl who's afraid of the world, and who would want that kind of girl anyway?

Cheers.

Apologizing for the sake of apologizing

There have been a lot of weird little dramas in my life lately, some I deal with better than others, but the most recent frustration was over a few words that should have been said to someone's face...

Let's back up, shall we?

I have (had?) a friend that I absolutely adore...but she's proven time and again that she's not the kind of friend I want. I'm a forgiving sort, but there comes a point where you have to realize that even the people who say they have your back don't necessarily have it.

This particular realization came about when this friend decided to ignore me for an entire week...because she thought I was mad at her. What would I have to be mad at? I mean, yes, I get mad, but as I said, I'm a forgiving sort, so the mad really only stays for five minutes before it goes away and I just shake my head, roll my eyes and smile as we continue on our friendship adventure.

Except when she decided to ignore me, it was also when she broke things off with a lover who happens to be my very best friend, and so at first, I thought she had decided to break things off with both of us. And then, in trying to help my best friend through things, I learn that she wasn't as okay with our friendship as I thought, and there were certain things she had done that were absolutely uncalled for...

So I may have said some things, and decided, to hell with it.

And then she decides to talk to me again, and I call her out for ignoring me for a week, after which she says "I thought you were mad" --which, granted, by that time, I kind of was-- and we sort of make up.

But I'm not sure that I want to be her friend, and I say so to my best friend, and also how, even if I did, I don't know how to be her friend right now.

Because if someone says they want to cut you out of their life, then doesn't that mean they don't want to be your friend anyway?

And within a week, she's not talking to me again. A little more permanently this time, and I'm at a loss, until I hear that she knew what I had said.

So I understand why she's cut me off this time, and I am relieved to find I don't really care...except my best friend says I should apologize anyway.

"It doesn't have to be genuine, just do it."

And I hated him for just that little moment, because he cared more about her feelings than mine, even though the things I said were perfectly justified, and there was nothing but the truth in them.

Except.

I talked with my sister, my mother, a few other friends, and they all agreed that I had nothing to apologize for, that I would be validating her actions, and that if she didn't wallow in her hurt for long enough, she would never come to the realization that she was the one in the wrong, and her actions would never change, and she would remain that immature, hurtful little girl for the rest of her life...no one argued that point, and most even brought it up before I did.

Except if I want to be the kind of person I want to be, I really need to learn to say mean things to people's faces anyway instead of being so passive-agressive.

And my best friend keeps saying I should apologize anyway, and he asks on the daily, "Did you talk to her today?"

So I wrote a script.

And I was honest.

(To a point.)

And if the apology wasn't genuine, it at least sounded like it, and I added a note to flatter her at the end because God knows she'll tell him exactly what I said, and frankly, they're BOTH immature enough that a little sugar-coating will go a long way.

And if I was a little frustrated for the moment, I stopped being so after I realized that even though he wanted me to apologize to her, he didn't say we had to be friends again.

So I did it.

"So get off my back, woman!"

(Because saying "Get off my back, man!" just doesn't have the same ring to it.)

And I have learned the necessity of apologizing sometimes even when you don't mean it, because if you apologize, people shut up, and being left in peace is really what it's all about.

For an asocial little brat like me, anyway.

Cheers.

22 and counting...

So I realize it's been awhile since I've blogged, and I suppose I should apologize to the few avid readers that I may or may not have...

But sometimes life cannot be put down in words, and it just happens.

So let's move on, shall we?

My kid sister and I are having a sort of writing contest on the first of this next month, leading up to her surgery on the 23rd, and so we decided to give each other twenty-two different prompts to help distract from it, and just for kicks and giggles.

(Because we both love writing, whether sense or non)

In an attempt to find my own kicks and giggles in this moment, I've decided to compile a list of twenty-two (give or take) things in my life that make me smile.

(Because I really haven't been smiling lately, though that is neither here nor there)

So, here we go...

1. Pokemon

For Christmas, my best friend bought me a 3DS for Nintendo, and of course, the last time I had something of that nature was back when Pokemon only had three colors (think Red, Blue, and Yellow). So it made absolutely perfect sense for the first game that I bought for myself to be one of its derivatives: Alpha Sapphire. Though the game is simple, it is engaging, and I've enjoyed learning the new names and faces (because I'm really only familiar with the first one hundred and fifty), and though I lose a good percentage of battles with my friend, sometimes, just sometimes, I win.

2. Peppermint

Once upon a time, I impressed (or terrified?) my brother-in-law with how many candy canes I ingested over the holiday. So he bought me a peppermint stick about as big around as my fist. It took me awhile to finish the delicious monstrosity, but even then, my taste for peppermint has not waned, and you will find candy canes and peppermint sticks and the like in my cupboard year-round.

3. The perfect shade of lip gloss

So some people say that make-up is unnecessary, others a necessary evil. I'm often in the middle on that topic. That being said, there's something about finding the right color that just makes everything better. Lately I've been favoring a bright fuchsia, but I also have this deep red that makes me look fierce and in control...and I love it.

4. A fresh notebook

There's just something about opening a clean notebook that frees the mind and the words come and I find I've written something out-of-this-world fantastic...or possibly deranged. But the thrill in incomparable, and if I perhaps have a few too many notebooks waiting to be filled, who could blame me?

5. Grand Theft Christmas

Three years ago, while practicing for the annual Lessons and Carols concert at the church we were to perform at, I stole an ornament from the tree. While I may have committed one of the highest forms of blasphemy (I'll let St Peter and his crew decide), the weird thrill was addicting. I have a box full of random ornaments, from friends, relatives, schools, doctors' offices...perhaps this case of kleptomania isn't something I should be proud of, but it's one of the few things that makes me feel like anything but the sweet, angelic, boring good girl I was raised to be.

(Mother, you may keep your opinions to yourself, thank you)

6. Rubber ducks

While I may not have a bathtub to play with them in, my collection of rubber ducks do quite well on the dry land that is my TV stand. I haven't given them names yet, but they have their own individual personalities and dramas amongst them --including a love triangle with a pair of twin brothers and girl who's sister is in love with another girl.

7. Lilo and Stitch

"Pudge controls the weather."

Need I say more?

8. Guitar Hero

So though I enjoy the real thing, I will probably never be a great guitarist. Turn on the video game, however, and I can rock the entire world (on the Medium difficulty, at least; we're still working on the higher ones). Who doesn't love a little instant fame now and then?

9. My penguin onesie

Don't ever let anyone tell you you're too old for one-piece pajamas. Especially ones with penguins wearing neon pink bow ties. And that have a hood. The only thing that would make it better is if it had pockets. And maybe feet. But mostly it's perfect.

(Perhaps more so than my Superman onesie)

10. Ballgowns

I only have two as of yet; the rest of my dresses range from sun to red carpet, but the full ballgowns are hands-down my favorite. Whether I choose the dark blue or the spring green, I don't even need a tiara to feel like a princess.

(Though I have a few of those, too, if I wanted to accessorize)

11. Polka dots

Nothing against stripes or zigzags, but polka dots are probably my favorite thing. Is it whimsy, a childhood nostalgia? Or perhaps just another little oddity about Emma. But if you're wearing a polka dot shirt or dress or even a headband, you're probably guaranteed to be my favorite person...for a moment, at least.

12. Mermaids

I'm afraid of water. Like deathly. If I can't see the bottom, I don't want to go in, and even if I can, you can almost guarantee a panic attack if my feet can't touch the bottom. I dream almost nightly about drowning, trying to breath underwater, but I always run out of air, and no one saves me.

Perhaps that's why I like mermaids so much...not only are they beautiful and mysterious (which yes, I am, too, but in different ways), but they're powerful too, fast in and above water, and a wave only pushes them on, not under --or at least not unless they want to go under. They are completely at ease in their most natural element, and a lack of air is never an issue. I suppose you could say I envy them.

13. Books

Books, books, and more books. If I had Belle's library, I would probably have a heart attack  --from joy, of course. I used to get dozens upon dozens of books from the local library, because I wanted to read anything and everything I could get my hands on. Sadly, I don't have the time to do the same these days, but if I can sit down for a moment with an old favorite, you had better believe I'm in heaven.

14. Mickey D's

Some might say my love of Happy Meals is only because of my love of childish things --I may be buying kids' meals at the moment because of a certain pony cartoon being featured in their toys-- but when they put chicken nuggets together with my favorite green apples, there's no way I could say no. And if I'm not into whatever toys might be on the list, a large fries and a McDouble go a long way toward not only keeping my belly full, but keeping my mood full (read:high) as well.

15. Drawing hearts over the i's.

Childish? Perhaps. Romantic? Certainly. Necessary to keep calm when the world is falling apart around me? Absolutely.

16. Violin

So I suck at violin. I'm basically a first-year student playing it, and even then, I'm probably worse than some four- or five-year-olds who are supposedly at the same level. But just the simple act of practicing is calming, and the sound is probably one of my favorites in music, and if I can't play something myself, I've got a pretty decent YouTube playlist that will help me feel the music anyway.

17. Pilates

I am not the most active person. I used to run in middle and high school --a good portion of it running from older brothers who despised my existence-- and I have a passing fascination with soccer, but I'm not really athletic. Pilates, though, while definitely an effective work-out, is not something I have to be athletic to participate in. I can still suck at kicking a goal or running a mile in under six minutes, and yet I still feel strong, I still have stamina, and I can take pride in my body, even when modern fashion sometimes make me feel inadequate.

18. The fire nation tattoo over my pelvic bone

I have nine tattoos. And I love them all. Some of them I perhaps would have done something different, changed the angle, the placement, the size, the style of script...but every time I think I hate them, I find something new to love about them. My favorite, however, is the one that is based on a symbol from the show Avatar: The Last Airbender.

If you believe in that sort of thing, I'm technically an earth sign. I like material things, I have a sense of practicality about me, and I'm cautious. However, my enthusiasm is much more fire-based than earth, and after looking up some fan-art on the series, I knew that I had to have fire on my body. And though it burned like fire when I got it --this was actually the most painful ink I've gotten thus far-- every time I see it I can't help but grin.

Because this girl is on fire.

19. My PlayStation(s)

I have a PlayStation 2...and 3...and 4. (I also have a Super Nintendo and an XBox One, but I digress.) And though I'm not the most adept at modern games --most of them still give me headaches and make me sick to my stomach with all those new-fangled graphic designs-- there is a release of sorts whenever I play. I don't play to win (and I get called out on that regularly), but I play anyway, and I have fun, and I can just escape from reality for awhile, and even if I die, I'm still having a good time.

20. The Walking Dead

I am a scaredy cat. Like the biggest wimp ever. I'm more than mildly afraid of the dark, and I have nightmares every night on even the most benign of subjects, and I only sing really loud when I'm walking at night because I'm hoping that my obnoxiousness will scare all the crazier (yes, I admit it) people away.

But this show? Is golden. And yes, if I'm by myself I might stop it two or three times an episode and it'll take me all week to watch it. But the drama, the characterization, the chemistry between characters, all of it. Is addictive. And lovely. And I'm looking very much forward to tonight's episode.

(After I finish watching last week's)

21. Mixing cherries into an Oreo Blizzard

I did it on a whim the first time, but this is probably my favorite food creation of all time...well, that, or the vodka ice cream float.

(Most of my favorite creations involve ice cream)

22. A good bass line

Anyone can write a funky guitar riff or a piano solo...but giving letting the bassist take the spot light? There's nothing more hardcore and amazing in the entire musical world.

And if you want me to join your band and expect me to play the keyboard, you have got another think coming, my friend.

I suppose it's rather telling that coming up with all of those was more difficult than I thought it would be. Except it got easier as it went on, so maybe it's all about mood?

And now that I have my list, here's to more smiles, more laughs, more light, and more good moods.

Cheers.

Who am I? I am a Francophile.

Do you ever catch yourself singing the national anthem of France?

No?

(see https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4K1q9Ntcr5g if you're unfamiliar with it)

Well, I do...not that I know the words as yet, no, but the tune?  Stuck in my head.  All the time.

Why?

You might think it's because my musical brain just catches things in its trap to release into song at a later date, and you wouldn't be far off.

But the fact that it's the anthem of France, and not some place like Argentina or the UK, should tell you something.

That something?

I am obsessed with anything and everything French.

It started out as an excuse to take something other than math or science or even English in high school.  Why take those boring gen eds when you can take a foreign language?

(I took French, German, and Spanish, because I could)

It didn't take long for me to realize that French was the language for me.  It flowed off the tongue like water from a pitcher, it involved creative (and therefore difficult, making it more impressive that I accomplished it) spelling, and it turned out that most of my favorite fairy tales came from the French lore.

(think Sleeping Beauty, Beauty & the Beast, Cinderella...)

I quickly cast aside my other languages and delved into the beauty that is French.  I learned songs, I read books, I started writing my diary in French...

(though I laugh at all I wrote, but I digress)

I found my first love in a high school French class, which only solidified my love for the language (though I'll always have a better accent than him, haha), and the romanticism never died.

When I was about twenty, I had the opportunity to travel to Haïti (before the earthquake), and within ten days, I was speaking like a native, and life was damn near perfect.  Why wasn't I born a Frenchman? I thought.

Six years later, French still holds a fascination for me.  I often find myself watching Disney movies in French (thanks to that first French class, and Madame Jennifer, who let us watch La Belle et la Bête), I have several shelves of French books in my library, and when I'm having a really bad day, I just tell myself, someday, Em, you're going to run off to Paris.

And life will be great.

Because I am a Francophile.

Who am I? I am an Artist.

I am an Artist.

That word can have many different connotations, apply to many different fields, from music to science to philosophy to actual paint-and-brush art.  I would like to speak on the latter this evening.

Not necessarily with paint and brushes, no, but with pencil and paper.

Though most of my creative bents involve music or writing, I've always had a soft spot for drawing.  I can admit to still having a few clumsy things I drew in primary school (though they rarely leave their box), though my first real interest in drawing started in the fourth grade when I transferred schools.

It was a small, faith-based private school, and to be honest, they didn't have much for faculty.  With few (very few) exceptions, the homeroom teacher taught every single class.  And while Mr Johnson was a heck of a choir teacher, he really was not much of an artist.  One week, though, I can't recall if he was out sick or if the administration just wanted a change in pace, we had a substitute come in and teach art (and maybe another class, English, I think).  She was young, bright, just married, and very creative.  She drew these quirky little characters reminiscent of a cartoon alien, and she used bright colors and though I'm sure, considering the environment we were in, she was very conservative, but she just seemed so magical and light, and I remember all that week struggling to emulate her style, to draw something so beautiful that she would praise me in front of the class, and I could gain a reputation as a cool artist chick instead of just that weird transfer girl.

Praise was inevitable, of course; I mean, come on, we were in fourth grade, what was she going to do, tell me I sucked?

Because I really did.

But I had so much fun, and whenever I can now, I try to take a little time to draw something, and maybe to improve upon my skills a little.

That picture above?  I drew that my senior year of high school.  A little simple, perhaps, but a big step up from where I started, and though I feel I can do better now, it's still one of my favorite pieces.

And who knows, maybe if I keep getting better, my publishers will let me design my own cover for my books...

Since I am an Artist, after all.

Who am I? I am Smart.

I am Smart.

You might think that's a pretty egotistical thing to say, and I won't say you're wrong if you do.

But it's also the truth.

I get things.  My mind is full of information that I may never actually use, but it's stuck there, regardless.  I can recite lines from plays, tell you the definition of fifty-cent words you'll probably never use in daily life, mix chemicals in a lab without blowing up, give you the first thirty digits of phi () --also known as the Golden Ratio-- and a plethora of other things...  I make references to history, psychology, sociology, mathematics, without breaking a sweat because it's all right there in my mind.

If you teach me something once, it's unlikely you'll have to teach it to me a second time unless you're just a terrible (read: boring, not inadequate) teacher.  Stuff stays in my head, flowing on a constant cycle of 'Do I need this information right now?' or 'Why did I think this was important?' among other questions that often keep me awake long into the night just trying to calm my brain down.

As you might expect, though, there are downsides to this brand of intelligence.

I am bored, very easily, because I just get things too fast and then it seems pointless to give the subject any more attention.  Sometimes I over-think, over-analyze, what to the average masses might seem simple problems.  Sometimes I turn into that most hated of all people --the 'Know-It-All,' and though perhaps in that instance I really do know it all, I come off as just obnoxious instead.  Or mean.  Or condescending.

(I might have a superiority complex when it comes to my brain and others'.)

Combine brains with a highly hormonal physique, and we can go the complete opposite and say that I'm stupid.

I will devote hours upon hours to memorizing sheet music (though it doesn't actually take that long to memorize, just to play it correctly) because it makes me happy.  On the other hand, I will spend five minutes studying for a test that probably needed a few hours itself because it upsets me.  I will read thousands of books that I discovered in the corner of a bookshop or the back room of a library.  I will not read a single page of a book you told me to read for class.

It's a strange dichotomy, balancing emotions and logic, and I guess I haven't managed it yet.

But you can challenge me all you want; I'm still gonna say the same thing:

I am Smart.

(And for the record, I probably think I'm smarter than you.  Just sayin'.)

Cheers.

Who am I? I am a Perfectionist.

per·fec·tion·ism  /pər ˈfɛk ʃə ˌnɪz əm/

noun

1. any of various doctrines holding that religious, moral, social, or political perfection is attainable.

2. a personal standard, attitude, or philosophy that demands perfection and rejects anything less.

You know those people who are super anal retentive and make you want to scream because nothing is ever 'just right?'

I'm one of those people.

Oh, you may not see it, and you may think that can't be true; I mean, please, the girl is in an area of study where perfection is literally impossible, she's messy, lazy, she can barely keep her GPA above 2.5...

Where is this 'perfection?'

I am a Perfectionist in that I will play the piano until my hands bleed so I can get that one section sounding anywhere close to what the composer might have wanted.

I am a Perfectionist in that if I cannot take complete notes in a class, I will stop taking notes altogether because I believe in the possibility of impossibility.

I am a Perfectionist in that I will try this spice and that spice and maybe one or two more before I decide to write down a recipe in my notebook.

I am a Perfectionist in that I will erase and rewrite and erase and rewrite and then grab an entirely new sheet of paper so it looks like I didn't have to try at all.

I am a Perfectionist in that I will not let myself have any sort of fun until I am certain I can do nothing more to make my work the best it can be.

And yes, I fall short.  I make mistakes.  I am lazy sometimes, and no matter how often I clean my room, it always looks like a tornado spun through it the next day.

And I beat myself up for that.

But I keep moving forward.  I still strive for perfection.

Because I am a Perfectionist.

Cheers.

Who am I? I am a Girl.

[The following is the first in a series of 'Who am I?' blogs, that will hopefully give you a little more insight into the person that I am.  Any and all comments are appreciated.  Cheers.]

I am a Girl.

First and foremost, I am a Girl biologically.  I have double-X chromosomes, I have more estrogen than testosterone flowing through me, I can't pee standing up, and I have this lovely friend I like to call 'Red' that shows up once a month or so.  I have breasts that are uneven and probably always will be no matter what oils or creams I decide to use.  I am not as strong as my male counterparts, and I am not as tall, and though I might bemoan that on occasion, I console myself with thoughts of the future generations I will someday (literally) give birth to.

Secondly, and though this may be due to some of that biology, I am a Girl emotionally.  I cry.  A lot.  At movies, books, commercials, children playing in the park, puppies being taken for a walk, broken dishes, burnt food, misspelled words, clothes that don't fit right...I cry.  And I'm sensitive.  If you yell at me (whether it's about me or just in my direction), I take it personally.  If you're hurting, I'm hurting.  If you're happy, I'm (usually) happy, too...unless I'm jealous.  Which I am, a lot.  Jealous of your lifestyle, jealous of your children, jealous of your apparent ease with which you glide through life.  I scream, I rant, I rave, at all the things I love and hate (and all the things I can't decide which I feel).  I have super highs and abysmal lows.  I feel things, and I feel them deeply.

Third, I am a Girl spiritually.  I have a distinctly childish (a distinctly girlish) way of seeing the world.  I believe in fairy tales.  I don't understand why God gave me naturally blonde hair when I clearly look better as a red-head.  I am impulsive and selfish and scatter-brained in ways I can't even begin to count, most of them to my detriment.  I learn, but at a slow pace.  I wait for the world to come to me rather than going after it.  I dream big...and I am afraid of those dreams.  But I'm dancing and singing non-stop along the way to distract myself.

Who am I?

I am a Girl.

If I could turn back time...

To my ten-year-old self, here are a few tips...

Number one
Don't worry about modesty.  I mean, okay, don't go running around being an idiot, and if Mom tells you to do something (or wear something), you should do it.  But some day you're going to model for the life-drawing class in college, and though that might seem awkward, it's actually really cool...and the pay is keeping you alive.  (Should I add an addendum on saving money or can you figure that out on your own?)

Number two
You're probably missing your friends.  Transferring to a new school has a tendency to produce that side effect.  But, and not to be a downer, you're not really going to be talking to those kids much in the future anyway.  The few you keep in touch with you're probably better off forgetting...though I will say you should be nicer to Kelsey, but that's a whole 'nother ball of crazy.  And no, you're not going to make many friends at the new place, or the next one, and the one after that you'll have some good times, but time goes on and people just drift apart...you probably already know that you're the awkward one socially.  Making friends is hard.  But the ones you do make and manage to keep are amazing, and well worth the wait.  The rest?  You can write about them in your first novel.

Number three
Have you already taken that stupid dare?  You've just cemented yourself as the weird new transfer student.  But that's okay.  Some people can't handle your awesome.  Some people are snobs that really aren't worth your time, no matter how 'popular' they might be.  So keep on taking dares, keep making bets.  Because you might be telling the world how strange you are.  But you're also telling them that you're fearless, and you have nothing to hide.

Number four
The only thing Allie is good for is getting you into romance novels.  Okay, so maybe she's good for nothing after all.  But when you meet her, and no, I won't tell you when that is, don't shy away.  She may be crazy...but a little crazy is going to help you become the multi-faceted and intense person you are.  And again, you can add that crazy to your writing --trust me, it's a gold mine.

Number five
Piano is king.  You're probably excited for the possibility of learning something other than a recorder --and you'll get to other things soon enough-- and that's a good thing.  If you can, try to keep that excitement up.  I know you get bored easily, but the piano is going to literally save your life some day.  So keep it up.

Number six
Wait for happily ever after.  Or rather, don't.  I get it, I really do; Sleeping Beauty is STILL my favorite movie.  But you can't live your life expecting the fairy tale to just show up.  Not at sixteen, not at eighteen, not at twenty-one...and not at twenty-six, either.  Happily ever after is not a guarantee for you to actually be HAPPY.  You have to make your own happy.  And it's going to be a struggle.  But though you might not know it, you have so much support coming at you from so many directions.  Think you're going to fall down?  I guarantee there's someone close to help you back up.

And finally, smart girl, don't be such a slacker.  You're better than that.

And some day, you're going to rule the world.

Cheers.

Dream Big

I recently watched the Disney/Pixar movie Up! (no, not for the first time, but the first time in awhile, anyway), and I found myself caught by the adventure book that Carl and Ellie had made.

(Or I guess Ellie made it, but it was for both of them, so...)

I'm not much for scrap-booking, no, but like Carl and Ellie, I have a lot of dreams, a lot of crazy things I want to do, places I want to go...so I was thinking, to hold myself sort of accountable to those things, I might as well write them down...and share them with you, so you can remind me, too. :)

So here we go...

(In no particular order.)

1. I want to travel all over Europe.
   (And to Japan and Korea someday, too.)
2. I want a big fancy dress when I get married...but I want a wedding with just me, my fiance, a judge and a witness or two.
   (Though if he wants something bigger, I suppose I'll cave.)
3. I want a library of my own.
   (Think Beauty & the Beast or Gosick.)
4. I want to perform on stage.
   (Professionally, I mean, not just for an undergrad recital.)
5. I want five kids of my own.
   (And to adopt one or two older kids, as well.)
6. I want to be on the New York Times Best Seller list.
   (Several times.)
7. I want to write an opera or a musical.
   (That is, I want to finish writing them.)
8. I want to get a couple more degrees.
   (In writing, sociology, history, to name a few.)
9. I want to study in Paris.
   (Or Prague, either will do.)
10. I want to cook everything.
    (And eat it, too.)
11. I want to learn how to play the French horn or the trombone.
    (To play them well, that is.)
12. I want to celebrate Mardi Gras in Brazil.
    (Because New Orleans isn't good enough.)
13. I want to draw a comic book.
    (Even if I never publish it.)
14. I want two dogs and a cat.
    (A big dog, a little dog, and a female cat who will dominate the both of them.)
15. I want to go to some sort of convention.
    (Not music, but for nerds or otakus or what have you.)
16. I want to cosplay in public on a normal day.
    (Though should I go steam-punk or Holo the Wise Wolf?)
17. I want to rule the world.
    (In a 'peace on earth' sort of way, not Pinky & the Brain.)

So.

Romance

Adventure

Fame

Insanity

Dream big?

[Despite the fact that I'm obviously not sleeping at this delightful hour of the morning.]

Cheers.

Colder than a Witch's Tit...

Photo by Tiffany Personett, taken sometime in December,
but germane to the topic at hand anyway.

Sometimes I wonder where colloquial phrases like that come from...

But mostly, I'm bemoaning the fact that I for some unknown reason decided to stay in the northern part of these great United States instead of joining my family in their more southerly location.

25 degrees yesterday, 19 this morning...though fine, it's warmed up to 28 (I use the term 'warm' very loosely), and yes, I know, in places like Minnesota and Wisconsin it's even colder (currently -2°F and 1°F, respectively, and apparently feeling --because weather feels now?-- about twenty degrees less), so maybe I shouldn't complain.

But I'm cold.  And no matter how many layers I put on, it gets colder.  And though I pay several grand a semester for my room and board, we don't have a working heater in our apartment.  That is, it never gets warmer than the mid-fifties, which really isn't conducive to studying or sleeping well, let me tell you.

To keep this from being too whiny, though, I'm going to try and focus on the positives...

1. I have a roof over my head.
   I may have mentioned this previously but Billings has a really high percentage of homeless citizens, and though I joke that every bad thing that happens is good for my writing, I'll just thank God I haven't fallen that low and leave that bit of experience to my imagination.
2. The oven works beautifully.
   I haven't done it often because I feel wasteful, despite the fact that my rent covers all utilities and will not go up if I over-do it, but I have on occasion turned on the oven, opened the door, and just sat down in front of it, basking in that tiny bit of warmth...
3. I have a credit card for J.C. Penney's.
   Why is this relevant, you might wonder?  The other day, somehow I sensed there was going to be a drop in temperature, and so I went out and bought three new sweaters.  Yes, I still need layers, but I can be fashionable while I'm at it.  Plus I found some fuzzy socks on sale, and you really can't go wrong with fuzzy socks.
4. I have more tea than I know what to do with.
   Drinking tea not only warms the body, but it warms the soul as well.  Plus it's a nice reprieve from the chill in the air to have a hot mug in my hands.
5. The heat in the music building is working.
   Though I have to make the trek through the cold to get there, I can spend hours playing piano and let the heat permeate through me, which in turn gives me a warmer sound, since my fingers aren't frozen on the keys.

So it is colder than a witch's tit outside.
Should have figured, January in Montana, right?

Well, here's to staying warm.

Cheers.

New Year's Greetings and Odd Ponderings

So I'm back in Big Sky Country after an almost-month-long visit along with my family along the Gulf Coast, and I have to say...

I am so glad to be back.

Not to say I didn't have a good time, because I did; I had a great time.
But as I said in my last post, I'm a pretty big introvert, and even family is hard to deal with, especially when it's as big as mine, so I felt a little ragged trying to maintain my calm.
Plus, as much as I love my Grandma, there are just some things we will never see eye-to-eye on.  And that's totally okay, really.  Though I finally understand why some of my sisters like to argue so much...who knew that was something that could be passed on genetically?
But I did have a great time, those few hiccups aside, and I hope I can do it again soon.
The pool, the beach, the sunshine...
I could write odes to that glorious circle of fire in the sky, but I won't bore you with that drivel now.
Suffice to say, it was the heat that made my vacation as amazing as it was, and if I have on regret about coming home, it's that I have to pile on the layers once more.

But I am glad to be back home, and here are a couple reasons why...

1) My kitchen is mine.
   Yes, I have a roommate, and yes, sometimes she cooks, but the cleaning, the organizing, the bakings...that's all mine.  And while I did learn a few interesting things cooking with my Grandma, it's nice to have my own space again.

2) I have my own bed again.
   I guess, for the first week or so of my visit, I did have my own bed.  And then my sister came and we'd already agreed that she would bunk with me, and it's not like she kicks out or steals the covers or anything, so it should have been great.  Except she refuses to cuddle, and though that might be a silly thing to take issue with, if I'm going to have someone else in bed, I need to cuddle.  I can't sleep comfortably if I have to make certain there's at least six inches of space between us, because I'll be so focused on staying still, I'll wake up achy and sore the next morning and...well, now that I have my own bed again, I don't have to worry about that, so yay...

3) I have more than one kind of tea.
   My Grandpa actually looked at me weird when I asked if he could pick up some Earl Grey, not because he didn't know what it was, but because it was apparently ludicrous that I actually drank tea in the first place.  To each his own, I guess.  And though he did get it for me, it's nice to come home and see a box full of a million (or maybe just eight or nine) different kinds of tea

4) Two words: water pressure.
   There was an excellent water heater on the premises, and I was able to take forty-five minute or longer showers whenever I wanted...but the water pressure, at least in my bathroom, was really low.  I was too exhausted when I got home last night to do much more than unpack a few essentials and fall into bed, but when I got in the shower this morning, the difference was immediately evident, and I can't help but thank God that, even if living in dorm apartments is sub-par, at least the showers are amazing.

5) The school internet is surprisingly amazing.
   I say surprisingly because usually it's slow as all get out, but I currently have a full five bars, and though I know school doesn't start until Monday, I also know that the majority of students have returned already to prepare for that start, so I'm assuming they did something to boost the signal over break.  And it's not like there wasn't internet on the Gulf, no.  But I didn't want to haul my computer three rooms over just to get the signal when it started to flake out.  (This being why I didn't post another bit previous to this.)  So hopefully I can catch you up on other things that have been going on, too, if this keeps up.

6) People expect you to play piano at inopportune times.
   My grandparents have an amazing Steinway in the front parlor, a baby grand, and it's beautiful and so responsive and I just love it...but though I've discovered that everyone is on board with my musical talents, everyone is not so on board with me practicing whenever I want to.  Though I did a lot, but there were moments I could just feel the need to ask me to stop and wait until they were out running errands or something.  And then when I wanted to play through some of my pieces, someone would come up and demand that I play Christmas carols for awhile, and though it's good for my sight-reading, I could have used more time on the things I've actually been assigned...but now that I'm back, that won't be a problem.

7) I don't have to hold my tongue.
  Well, it's not like I wanted to call people every name in the book, but when you're around family, tensions are bound to rise, and sometimes I just wanted to scream or cry...sometimes I did cry.  Now, though, I can say whatever I want...or just put it behind me like a mature young adult, and be grateful that I even had the opportunity to fight, because it's hard to do that over the phone, you know?  And when I see everyone next, it'll just be a hazy memory, and if we fight again, we fight, and if not, then who cares?

So it's a new year, and between getting used to writing 2014 on everything and surviving another semester, here are a few of my New Year's Resolutions:

• Write to and/or call my far-away friends regularly.
• Keep up and even add to my exercise routine.
• Eat healthier and minimize my snacking.
• Get rid of the things that clutter up my life (literally and figuratively).
• Add to my savings, whether for a rainy day or so I can eventually buy a house or something.
• Work harder on my classes than I ever have before and make this year really count.

Some of that's simple, some of it's vague, some of it's just plain impossible...
     (Though I have recollections of someone telling me 'Nothing is impossible.')
But it's where I'm at, and what I need to do.

Hope this new year finds you well, and I hope you manage to survive the insanity that is life alongside me.

Cheers.

Surprisingly motivating...

"Be the villain you were born to be. Stop waiting for someone to come along and corrupt you. Succumb to the darkness yourself."

Someone posted this on one of the many social media sites I travel through, and it was really kind of interesting how inspiring this was.
No, I do not want to be a villain (though I have committed what I'm calling 'Grand Theft Christmas' lately, but I'll make a post on that later), but the man (lady?) has a point.
Why am I just waiting for a change when I can go out and make that change myself?
More importantly, why am I waiting for another person (who no doubt is just as flawed, if not more so than myself) to help me with that change?

So this is me, making a change all by myself.
(Though I may have gotten the inspiration elsewhere.)

I am waking up on time.
That might seem like a 'duh' thing, but trust me when I say it is way harder than it seems.  Sleep has always been and most likely forever will be my enemy.  I get too much, I get too little, and don't even get me started on the nightmares that decide to sit me down for a 'midnight matinee' every. single. night.
Yet I've discovered, in this last week of classes (and please, don't judge me for not figuring this out until finals, because sometimes I'm just a little slow, okay?), that no matter the amount or entertainment value of my sleeping moments, if I wake up with my alarm every morning, and actually get up and do something, I feel amazing.
Sure, I may be tempted to take a nap later on, and sometimes my focus is a bit off, but just being up and alive and productive is so...
Empowering.

And speaking of empowering, you should all check this out...
(http://aquillandinkwell.com/?p=2821)
I feel a connection with this writer, and I have never been so inspired as by this post.
Because I am (we all are) stronger than I know, no matter what society tells me.

I am being selfish.
Does that seem to be backtracking?  Let me explain.
I am a doormat.  I feel the tracks of people's footprints all over my body, every day, and though I'm strong enough to take it, I'm also pretty tired of it.
So I'm learning to say "No."
It's a simple word, to be so hard, but it really is.  I have always been generous with my time and effort, and I know people appreciate me (I have cards and scribbled notes tacked to my wall as a reminder), but it often comes at the expense of my own person.
While I admit to being an expert procrastinator --I may be procrastinating getting dressed despite having just eaten lunch-- and I sometimes use my generous nature to do just that, I also feel that if I had more time and energy to spend on myself that it would not be so hard to get what I need to get done, done.
Even if what I need to get done is simply to have some alone time.
I'm also a serious introvert, if you did not know that.  And sometimes it's just really hard to interact with people.

For a scarily accurate depiction of how I feel on a regular basis, please see this:
(http://themetapicture.com/how-to-interact-with-the-introverted/)
Though I would also like to add one final thing to that: Even if I've let you in once, that doesn't mean I'll let you in again, so please be aware and watch for signs that you might not be welcome in my bubble.

Back to being selfish and saying "No," though.  It really is hard for me to do this, as I've been saying yes for so long, and I do love helping people and the rush that gives me makes all the pain so worthwhile.
But I do have to say "No."  And even though it's caused a few issues since I've started doing so (it's not just the word that is hard to say, but how to say it as well), I'm pretty confident that if I keep doing it, I'll find a little more balance in my time, in my energy, and in my life.

I am taking care of myself.
I'm eating well (or as well as I can on a budget), I'm taking my vitamins, I'm drinking lots of water, I'm exercising on a regular basis (Pilates and swimming for the win!), I'm cleaning my room...and the rest of the apartment, I'm giving myself realistic goals so I don't feel so stressed about everything, I'm being as proactive with my health as I can be without insurance (though I'm considering ObamaCare, as flawed as I think it might be), and when all else fails, I'm asking for help when I need it.
And boy, do I ever need it.
Oh, and I'm making a schedule, because I always do so much better when I have a list in front of me.

So this is me, making a change.
I may not be perfect, but I'm not the villain either.
I'm just one girl who's decided not to wait for what I want to come to me.
I'm taking it for myself.

Jack Sparrow once said, "Take what you can, give nothing back."
I might still give a little something back.  But I'm not afraid to keep something for myself as well.

Cheers.