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.

I'm the type of sensitive...

I'm the type of sensitive...

That cries when you cry.  I just can't help it; I see tears, and my ducts decide that it would be fun to produce some of their own.

That tries to play nice with everyone.  And when that can't happen, I get a little tense, and I start walking around on eggshells because I don't know what to do.

That cries over a broken dish.  Sometimes, it's the little things that really upset me.  And even if I've been having a good day, that crash to the floor will set me off.

That assumes silence means you're mad at me.  Well, most silences, anyway.  Because if you weren't, we'd be having a conversation right now...wouldn't we?

That needs a certain song to set me right when all is wrong in the world.  Most of the time, it's Bach.  But sometimes a good J-pop or 90's tune will keep me level.

That fusses when I haven't eaten right.  All sugar and no protein makes Emma a crazy girl...who after the crazy high wears off, delves deep into a crazy low.

That plans out how to be alone when tensions are high.  Feeling upset?  Angry with the world?  Developing murderous intentions?  Maybe towards me?  I'll just grab my stuffed pig and skedaddle.

That will just put up with other people's bad behavior.  I figure there's a reason for everything, and if you're acting out, it's because you can't contain yourself.

That will get upset when others don't give me that same courtesy, or at least a little understanding.  As if everything I do is wrong, just because I never complain about what you do.

That thinks about losing friends when only one is mad at me.  Sure, we might get over this, but if we don't?  You can have all our mutual friends, and I'll go find some new ones.

That repeats conversations in my head over and over and over again, to try and figure out if A, she (he, they, etc), really said that, and B, she really meant it that way.

That won't talk to you again until you come to me first.  Maybe I should make the effort, except it's pretty clear that I'm persona non grata, so why aggravate the situation any more by speaking up?

That likes everybody.  Even when they're nasty to me.  And so I get hurt that much more when I realize that maybe they don't like me as much as I like them.

That will listen to you go one and on and on about your problems without trying to tell you about all of mine, even though they keep telling me I shouldn't bottle it up inside.

That probably feels worse than you do when I've been mean to you.  Something about a moral upbringing and a guilty conscience.

That reacts badly to crowds of people.  Especially people I don't know.  Especially during special events.  So even if you invite me, I'll probably avoid the situation altogether.

That gets worn out by putting on a cheerleader façade all the time.  So maybe I might get a little weird sometimes.  Because it's exhausting trying so hard to be happy all the time.

That would rather be yelled at than ignored.  Maybe I'll cry, but to be honest, I cry anyway, and if you yell at me and get everything out there, I'm pretty sure the crying will stop sooner, which is probably healthier for the both of us anyway.

That needs people to earn my trust every single day.  I understand that's a lot to expect from people, and maybe you think I'm being unrealistic.  But I think you're just plain rude when you expect me to be okay with you entering my bubble all the time just because I let you in once.

That feels better in the sunshine.  Which is why I'm hoping my break goes well.  And hoping that I can recuperate.  And hoping that when I return in the spring, at least half of the issues that I'm sensitive over at the moment will be non-issues.

But maybe that's unrealistic, too.

But hey, what can I say?

I'm sensitive.

Cheers.

"Be grateful, Anya."

I remember this line from one of my favorite movies, Anastasia (who totally kicks the Disney princesses' butts, with maybe the exception of Mulan or Merida), and it's been popping in my head quite a bit these last few days...

Not because I'm not grateful, but because I'm kind of frustrated about what I'm supposed to be grateful for.

I'm supposed to be grateful for my friends.
Which, okay, I am.
I'm grateful to one for inviting me to dinner when my plans changed.  I'm more grateful that she let me say no.
I'm grateful to one for not yelling at me when those plans changed.  (I'm maybe not so grateful that she told me to get over my anxiety complex, but I understand why she said such a thing.)
I'm grateful to one for taking me shopping so I can buy everything I need for a solo holiday.
I'm grateful to one for letting me hang out the evening before the holiday without any pressure to actually talk.
I'm grateful to many for sending me holiday greetings without minding if they got a reply.
So I am grateful for my friends.  But I'm relieved I didn't have to deal with them too much this holiday.

I'm supposed to be grateful for my family.
I'm grateful that my Mom answers the phone every time I call...or has her 'answering service' answer and run the phone to her, haha.
I'm grateful that some of my sisters answer the phone every time.  I'm not exactly upset that the others don't --hey, we all have lives, right?-- though I miss them.  But I'm grateful for them anyway.
I'm grateful that my brothers are so responsible and awesome...and I'm a little jealous that they seem so focused when I'm not so much.
And I suppose I'm grateful that my Dad can confide in me...even if another pseudo-suicide note was not how I wanted to wake up to Thanksgiving.
Though I don't know how being grateful makes a difference when I don't see them ever.

I'm supposed to be grateful for my health.
I'm grateful that I haven't had another seizure after that insanity in August.  I'm grateful to the paramedics and doctors and nurses that helped me feel better and calmed me down when I thought I was going to have a panic attack.  I'm not so grateful for the several-thousand-dollar bill.
I'm grateful that the sports medic on campus was able to advise me on my wrist.  I'm less grateful that I'm going to have to go to a doctor anyway because it just won't stop hurting.
I'm grateful for the good food I've been able to add to my diet.  I'm even grateful for the extra effort it takes, because working hard makes me feel responsible and productive.  I'm less grateful for the less-thrifty shopping I have to do to eat healthy.
And okay, I suppose I'm grateful that I'm not dying like so many other people around the world...but I'm a selfish person, so I'm still going to complain about it.

I'm supposed to be grateful for my living arrangements.
And actually, I am.
I saw a man sleeping in a store entryway a few nights back, and I couldn't imagine how cold it was, or how long it must have taken him to fall asleep...or if perhaps he's used to it, so he can do it quickly, which is almost worse.
So I have no complaints in this area.
(In fact, if I could stay in this place forever...I would...but well, I guess I'll worry about moving next year.)

"Be grateful, Anya."
I guess I am.
But after a lot of nagging to go places for dinner when all I wanted was a grilled cheese sandwich, and finding out that I can't practice piano because everybody who might unlock the music hall is on holiday, I'm just grateful that I can be alone, and not have to worry about putting on that damned cheerleader facade I've spent a lifetime cultivating.
It's so exhausting not being a hermit.

And though this has been kind of a downer of a note, I am grateful for all of you reading this.

So Happy Thanksgiving.
Hope you're all surviving the Black Friday Madness.

I'm going to go bake something.

Cheers.

Like a toddler in traffic...

This is Emma, dating.  Or at least going on a dating site.  The following is the profile I made; obviously a few things changed in the month or so since I made this, but here is what I was willing to put out there...

My self-summary

I am a fun and quirky individual that just wants to share her awesome with someone else. :)

What I'm doing with my life

I am currently finishing up my undergraduate degree in music.  Only seven months til graduation!! :)

I'm really good at

writing, though I admit I have slacked on poetry lately.  I'm also an excellent pianist, and a self-taught (and a little mother-taught) cook.  I am also adept at learning and speaking other languages (like French or Japanese, for example).

The first things people usually notice about me

At the moment, I have pink hair.  (Hard to notice much else when the neon glares lol) But aside from the obvious, I have a very bright and friendly personality that draws people in.

Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food

My all-time favorite book is Robin McKinley's "Sunshine," though I am also a fan of such writers as Orson Scott Card and Garth Nix, and sometimes I get a little girly with Jennifer Crusie.

I love all movies Disney (mostly), and I love foreign and independent films as well.  A couple recent favorites are "Tortilla Soup" and "Under the Tuscan Sun."

I am an unashamed Gleek (yes, Glee is lame, but I need cheesy entertainment to make me forget school sometimes), and I also watch My Little Pony --initially for nostalgic reasons, but now I'm just a nerd who my friends often call 'Pinkie Pie.'  I also enjoy How I Met Your Mother, The Simpsons, anything on the BBC (especially Sherlock and Call the Midwife), and Ugly Betty.  I also watch anime, because my high school friends wouldn't let me say no.

I love classical music, mostly piano and violin, but I can sometimes be found dancing (rather badly) to pop music (not just K- or J- either, but sometimes Britney or Ke$ha...I'm a victim of the times...).

I am not a picky person when it comes to food, but my favorites are all pastas, fish, rice, cookies, candy, and pretty much any fruit is good.  I don't eat pork products often, but sometimes I am a sucker for breakfast sausage at the local diner.

The six things I could never do without

In no particular order...

1. I have a lot of dresses in my closet, and I would be sad without them.

2. I must always have access to a piano.

3. I can't do without air, even under water (or maybe especially there).

[yes, that was a smart-ass comment, so sue me]

4. I cannot do without some form of sugar nearby --even if it's only the three and a half teaspoons I pour in my tea.

5. I have a stuffed pig named Hector.  He keeps me sane.  (Or mostly)

6. My cellphone, though only to talk to my family, who live in all different states.

I spend a lot of time thinking about

why I need classes that aren't related to music...oh, the joys of a liberal arts college that wants you to be "well-rounded"...

On a typical Friday night I am

either in the practice rooms playing until my fingers hurt, or making lists of things to get done that weekend.

(Is this boring?  I feel boring.  Oh, well, I'm productive.)

...though I went to the mall and stayed up with friends til three am last Friday, so maybe I'm breaking the mold.

(Yay!)

The most private thing I'm willing to admit

I already admitted to liking Glee and My Little Pony, what more do you want from me?

You should message me if

You like a little insanity in your daily life.

Insanity is putting it nicely.

And yet, wouldn't you know, I have twelve messages in my inbox?  And I have been carrying on longer conversations with three different people, all pretty smart, but in different ways...

Though there's nothing that really sparks my interest.

Yeah, I love that you draw and you're a teacher, and yes, you get points for asking about Hector, but honestly?  That doesn't really mean a thing.

Or I love that you love books just as much as I do, to the point where you're scared of movie adaptations not living up to them, and you understand how a voice can make or break an audio book...but books aren't forever. (Yes, I just said that.)  What can you offer me that lasts forever?

And maybe it's cool that you don't mind that I love MLP...but giving yourself a screenname after one of the biggest fan-obsessed characters in the show and then trying to tell me you're not a Brony?  Tell me another one, Derpy.

So, though it's been fun...

I'm just not feeling it.

And I do not want to stay in the Billings area...or in Montana at all, for that matter.  And if I actually got to liking you, I would probably put my dreams on hold for a guy again, and that's just not cool.

So this is Emma, deleting her account on a dating site.

God, the guy you have picked out better be fantastic after all this madness...

Cheers.

The Aftermath of Stress

So I had my recital...

(Sorry, audio only, it takes more time to edit the video...)

There were several things going through my mind as I played...

• I have to play this measure just so or it's going to sound terrible.
• I wonder how many people are in the audience.
• This is for Mom.
• I wish Aimee was on stage the whole time.
• I'm so glad I can finally learn new music after this.
• I feel like I should be sweating more than I am.
• That was a weird mistake...but let's keep going.
• People are talking.  Why are people talking?
• You should breathe, Em.
• I really wish Tiffany was here.
• Or Melissa, she's supposed to be backstage sending me energies.
• Who forgot to turn off their cell phone?
• Hey, your hands stopped shaking.
• I only have three movements left and I'm done??
• Nailed it.

And then we had a little reception and people loved my piano, people loved Aimee, people loved my dress...and I was so happy it was over.
Except that stress build-up didn't stop; it kept building.  So Thursday I felt stressed out.  And Friday I felt stressed out.  And Saturday I started to feel a little bit better.
Until Sunday when I finally got around to editing my recital, and I said to myself over and over again...
     How many times can you make such stupid, stupid, STUPID mistakes?
And I may have cried during the first piece and then laughed during the second piece, until I got to the vocal pieces and I thought...
     There you are.  You calmed down once she got on stage beside you, didn't you?
Stage fright is a curse.
And apparently stresses me out so my body carries it for days afterwards.
Hooray.

And so maybe I'm still thinking about all those things I ranted about last time.
And maybe I'm still a little crazy, even though the hardest part of my semester is finally over.
But I'm okay.

And now I'm going to call an old friend, just because.

Cheers.

Greetings from the other side of midnight...

So it is now less than forty-eight hours until my junior recital (yes, I am a senior, but there was a delay, so I'll be doing two recitals in one year...cuz I love giving myself a hard time), and perhaps I should be getting some rest, perhaps I should be dreaming of notes bubbling forth from the keys beneath my fingers and floating across the sky like so many snowflakes in a snow globe...
And perhaps I'm not a genius with metaphors after midnight.
(Or this specific midnight, rather, since last night's writing was quite delightful)
It isn't that I'm not tired.
I am.
I have stayed up until three in the morning or later (earlier?) for the last week, not doing anything productive, unless you consider working on my first novel --first with potential to be finished, I should say-- to be something productive...which actually, I do, but being a novelist, a musician, and a full-time student all at once is not one of my brightest ideas, and so I...
I digress.
Apologies.
So, to get to the (rather unclear) point:
I don't want to go to sleep.  Or I do, but I'm at an impasse...why?  Well, let me elucidate for you...
My brain won't shut up.  It keeps going on and on about things that I really couldn't care less about, but are yet somehow important...
Like the fact that I haven't taken my vitamins yet today.  (Yesterday?)  But if I don't fall asleep, I can still take Monday's vitamins even if it is technically Tuesday.
Like how I cannot for the life of me find the syllabus to my British Romantic literature class, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to have read for tomorrow...something by Shelley?  Wordsworth?  Why not just read the whole textbook and cover everything?
Why not jump off a cliff?
Like how that one Franz Ferdinand songs says...something completely inappropriate that I never noticed before and I want to laugh out loud except my roommate and her new dog are sleeping.
Like how that precious animal (named Gizmo, though thus far it does not appear he turns into a monster if you feed him or get him wet after midnight) bit me earlier when I was just trying to prevent him from choking on a piece of plastic, and how I'm almost certain that when I play piano, that part of my finger doesn't touch the keys...but what if it does?  And what if it starts bleeding again?  And what if even though he has all his shots, I still get rabies?
Like how I have five separate doctor bills from a little seizure I had in August but I will only be able to make payments on two of them this month --and only the bare minimum, which, for one of them, is five dollars, which sounds great, except the total bill is over three hundred times that.
Like how I applied for this position with the school newspaper as a copy editor for some extra cash --because despite my work-study paying a whopping nine dollars an hour, when you only work three hours a week, it doesn't make a single difference that you're making more than minimum wage; in fact, it creates a definite deficit-- and even though I know I'm a great editor and I know that they would be lucky to have me on their staff, they don't know that I'm the greatest thing in the world, because I lack entrance, past or present, in a little journalism class that they recommend a student has before applying to the job.  But maybe they'll like me anyway, since I did receive a writing award from the entire English department last year...not that that means anything, but, well...
Like how I really need to deep-condition my hair or I'm going to end up losing it all...though now I think about it, Katey and I are practically twins, and she looks pretty kick-ass with super-short hair.
Like how I'm writing the libretto to a musical and I have assignments and everything and it's going to be official and I'll actually finish something I started and I don't have a clue --or the time to get one-- to what I am doing.
Like how my Dad will probably never be a part of my life again, and though that's sad, it also makes me really happy, because GOOD FUCKING RIDDANCE.
Like how I really shouldn't curse online because it sets a bad example and gives people a poor impression of me.
Like how if every song I sung from now on was either in French or in Japanese, I would be perfectly, perfectly, perfectly HAPPY.  Because English is stupid and German gives me a headache and hell, I'm never going to really learn Portuguese or Russian no matter how hard I try.
Though maybe I like Latin.
Like how it's my baby sister's birthday today, and once again, I'm not there.
Like how it's my best friend's birthday on Wednesday, and I haven't seen her since her last birthday, and I was really hoping she and I would be doing our junior recitals together, and despite my love of Boston, will I ever really go out there to visit her??
Like how there is no PERFECT WORLD that you can take me to so I can relax.
Like how I keep making plans so even when all the insanity that Wednesday is bringing up is gone, there will be tens of thousands more ready and waiting to take its place.
Like how I miss my Mom.  And I wish I'd been brave enough to ask my grandparents to come to my recital.  Or my aunt and uncle, since Denver's really not that far away.  I mean, yeah, I sent a Facebook invite, but who pays attention to those, right?  I should have gotten out the fancy stationery like I planned...
Like how I hate that there's only glitter in my snow globe instead of snowflakes...not that there's a difference, per se, but at least most snow globes try to look legit.  Stupid Nutcracker...
Like how I've never seen that performed before even though I love Tchaikovsky, and how there's a performance over the Thanksgiving weekend but I have plans and won't be back in time to go, even though I know where I can get a free ticket.
Like how I can't remember the thirty-third element on the periodic table.  It's poisonous, germanium comes before, selenium comes after, but gah...
Like how much junk there is in my room that I bet I could throw away and never miss...but I won't because I'm sentimental and I like to keep everything forever...like those get-well cards from the sixth grade class when I had back surgery in eighth grade.  Yes, I have a problem.
Like how if I don't get my shit together, Nadeshiko Alice or Fiona Margaret or Karma Jay or Samantha Johanne or whatever other names I have tumbling around in my head will not exist.  EVER.
So...
I'm tired.
And my brain won't shut up.
And I just remember I have another math problem to finish.
Maybe I'll ruminate on it in the bath when I'm finished reading my English textbook.
Hah.
Maybe I'll pull on the eyemask and hope that shutting out the light shuts out all thoughts as well.
We'll see...

Until the next moment of delusion...
Cheers.

And thus madness set in, and she was never the same again...

Okay, so that's a little melodramatic, but it is November, which means NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), and though I don't actually think fifty-thousand words will fit into my schedule this year, I'm at least going to try for half that, because, as busy as I am, if I don't take at least a half hour to myself to just be creative, then I might actually kill myself because it's all just...wow.

In other news...

I have a new brace for my left hand.  Basically, here's what happened: I played piano, something hurt, I tried to stretch my hand, something hurt, I screamed, I stopped playing, went to bed...fast forward a few days, and it hurts more, and I went to my regular practice time today and lasted less than three minutes before I realized I couldn't play anymore.  Bring on the tears, bring on the "I both wish and pray to God not that someone notices and asks me what's wrong," bring on the ice pack...and the advice of two trusted adults that I go see the school nurse.  Unfortunately she's not in, but I am able to see the sports medic, who assures me at least that it's not broken, but yes, I have a problem, and here's how to fix it: get a brace that keeps the thumb stabilized, practice only half the amount you have been ("Yes, you have a recital, but do you want to play at that recital?"), ice it a couple times a day, take Aleve every twelve hours, and come back and see the medic in ten days.  And though yeah, that all sucks, honestly, after wearing the brace for a few hours, I already notice less pain, so I guess she knows what she's talking about.
Though I would also appreciate prayers that this goes away quickly (although it looks like it's one of those things I'll be fighting forever, like if I had arthritis of tendonitis [or is it spelled tendinitis or do both work?], there will be flare-ups until I die), so I can play my pieces freely and not add to the chaos that is my life.

Also, I went to a certain clinic, did certain exams, and you are now looking at a girl (or reading the works of, anyhow) that is on birth control.
Before any of you goodie-two-shoes family members of mine start freaking out (because I'm sure you will), no, I am not sexually active.  I still want to wait for marriage (though I admit the longer I live, the more open I am to someone with a clever turn of phrase, since yeah, he better be clever or he's out immediately), and in the event that I did become sexually active, other contraceptives would be necessary anyway.  I have heard some people refer to birth control as the abortion pill (which is something different, and fyi, the pill doesn't kill the eggs, it just stops them from being released), and as I grew up with that in my ear, I admit I was hesitant in making an appointment.  But I'm adult now, and I don't need Mommy's permission to see doctors, and did you know that birth control not only regulates your periods but your hormones as well?  And if you know me, as I hope you do, or why would you read this, don't you know how out of control my hormones are?  How emotional I get over EVERYTHING?
Case if point: I started crying while doing the dishes yesterday.  Not because I hurt myself or because I'm mad that Keli Rhea never does them or even because there was a sad song on my iPod while I washed.  No, I just cried.  Because I have no control over my emotions, and because I really wanted to bathe myself rather than the pot we cooked dinner in, and because I just cry over everything.  More so these days than ever before.  And yes, there are stressors in my life, but honestly, if I can get hormone regulation for free, why not take advantage of that?
And just in case I do find a clever guy, I've got a year's supply to help avoid the early appearance of my first little girl (or, okay, boy, but I really want a girl first, otherwise I'll worry I might never get one, because I worry over silly things like that).
I had a discussion with the nurse at the clinic, actually, when she was asking all her questions about my lifestyle and such, and though she was clearly surprised by my life of abstinence (I think I can safely assume that most girls that walk through those doors are not leading such lives), she said she thought I was one of the smartest girls out there.  For once, being a twenty-six-year-old virgin is not a stigma.  It is a gift, and while I talked about friends who have half-jokingly criticized my decision (whether this was a true criticism or an effort to make themselves feel better about their own choices, I would never presume, though I admit I wonder), she praised it, and said what I wish my friends would say: "It is your life, and it is your choice, and if you haven't found someone you think is worthy of your body, then who is anyone else to judge you?"
And I suppose you could say I'm writing this little rant to justify to myself, too, but I admit I expect the criticism of family especially, because that's just what I've found my family does.  Not necessarily intentional, but it's always there.  And I just want to take this time to say what the nurse said: "It's my life."  And if you think I'm being an idiot, while I'm sure I love you (I admit, the older I get, the more debatable that phrase is), I would greatly appreciate it if you would stuff it.  Or at least say something along the lines of "We're proud, Em, that you're taking responsibility for yourself, and making adult choices."  If you think those choices are wrong, that's fine, but at least give me credit for making them, especially since even when I got my last tetanus shot at twenty-two, I still had my Mommy call the doctor's office.
So I'm just growing up a little.
Yay me.

I feel I'm changing more and more every day, getting more confident, more out-going, and yes, sometimes, more mean (because seriously, I've been nice for so long, I just don't care anymore; if you're being an idiot, I'm going to tell you), and though it's a little weird getting used to the new me, it's also kind of fun.  I may be a little crazy, and I may sometimes have too much energy, but I'm feeling a sense of hyper-focus lately that can only bring out the best...
[Or okay, maybe make me hurt my hand with the over-intensity I've had in my practice, but we covered that already, so meh.]
So, to end on a lighter note (and a less defensive note, because I hate feeling that way, though I wanted to explain myself fully anyway), here are a few things that are gaining in awesomeness from my newer self:
   1. My writing has never been more powerful than it is now.  I honestly feel like I will be ready to publish my first book by the time I graduate, with another one not long after.  And I hope you will all read it when it gets to your local bookstore.
   2. I chose a few new pieces for my next recital (which is eons away, but since the junior recital will be done in two weeks, I figured why not?) without consulting my professor, who was away in Italy this last month.  It's a daring move, and I was a little afraid that I would discover I put effort into pieces she hates, but she approved them all right off the bat.  I'm not sure if it was my "So I know you like collaboration..." opening, or the fact that I was just so earnest in my asking her if I could pretty-please play these pieces, but there was not a single argument.  And maybe, maybe, that's because she really thinks I can play these pieces.  Because I'm just that much more awesome these days.
   3. Though as I said, I'm not going to push myself for those fifty-thousand words, I am confident that whatever I write for NaNo will be amazing, and the ideas coming are already some of my best...here's to an awesome month.
   4. Oh, and I may be finding love sometime soon...but we'll keep that one hush-hush until there's something more concrete, okay?

I may be a little bit mad, but as Charles Kingsleigh said, "All the best people are."
Here's to madness.
Cheers.

Perspective: Twenty-Six

Twenty-six.
I've liked the number ever since I watched a certain remake featuring a wicked almost-stepmother who, when asked how old she was, smiled beatifically and said crisply, "Twenty-six."
Yes, she turned out to be Cruella in disguise, and thank God the father went back to the real mother, yada yada yada, but it's been on my list of so-called 'lucky numbers' ever since.
Now that I'm here, I have mixed feelings.
Many of my friends are engaged, married, starting a family, or even adding to a family that might already be too big for the two-bedroom apartment they live in.  With very few exceptions, the friends that are my age have graduated college; some of them have gone even further to masters and law degrees.  They have everything right where they want it; they know what they are doing, they like what they are doing, and they are not alone in whatever they are doing.
Yet I have to think, are they happy?
Would achieving all they have make me happy?
What am I doing, at twenty-six and in my senior year of college, that makes my life better or worse than theirs?
My therapist keeps harping on perspective lately.
(I shouldn't say 'harping,' that's a little harsh, but it's a constant debate between us.)
Perspective No. 1: I may be single, and sometimes I feel alone.  But I do not have the capacity to focus on my schooling and another person at the same time.  I'm better off alone at this time because if I wasn't, I would either be distracted from my studies (which isn't a hard state to be in, regardless), or I would be neglecting that other person, and I can't bear the thought of being so cruel.  So alone is good.  For now.
Perspective No. 2: I am a horrible person.  I am selfish and lazy and I have the messiest room ever (unless you're looking at my roommate's, then she wins, hands down), and I lose things that are literally right in front of me.  I have very little drive and I am only so reliable as my sleep patterns (read: not at all).  As such, I am in no position to be having a child, raising a child, being responsible for a child.  Despite my age, I am a child, and I need to grow up if I don't want to screw up another life as badly as mine has been.  So why should I let my barren state hurt when giving life to another soul would hurt so much more right now?
Perspective No. 3: I was not ready for school when I was eighteen and graduated.  Yes, I tried a little after a single semester break, but as stated previously, I have very little drive now, and had even less at eighteen.  I was not equipped to go to school then.  I wanted to be everything and see everything and I probably would have ended up majoring in something ridiculous like philosophy and Baroque art with a minor in ancient Greek --because that's obviously a useful degree, right?  I would have probably stayed in Minnesota, and though yeah, they say 'Minnesota Nice' and all, Montana is WAY nicer (if the drivers are a little stupid, so what?), and I have been given the opportunity to study under some really fantastic professors.  And though I have gotten flack for finally settling on music in my studies, I know now that it is something I am passionate about that I could actually make something of myself with it, and I could be happy doing it.  So I'm a little behind the rest of my age group.  So what?  I'll get the other degrees in my own good time.  I'm where I need to be right now.
So I'm twenty-six today.  And I have great friends that have spent time with me.  I got a pair of earrings that is absolutely adorable.  I only got a few weird looks for wearing a tiara (because they've probably come to expect that from me anyway).  I made cupcakes for the first time today, and if the first batch looked a little weird, they tasted delicious.  I have purple in my hair, just because.  And I get to sing second soprano on one of the songs in chamber rather than alto.
It is what it is, and right now, it's good.
Perspective.

A Year to Remember, A Summer to Forget

One week down in the second-to-last semester of my undergrad career and already I am wishing for more time.
Not that I want time to reverse, though sometimes there is great appeal in the fantastical idea, but I want to have more time where I am at.  I would gladly spend another six semesters here, in order to learn all that I wish to, in order to see all that I have somehow missed in the three and a half years I've already been here.  And yet, though my time here has been relatively short --I have met several of my peers who have been here five, six, even seven years-- because it is me, any further time is not allowed.
I wish that I could explain how necessary my being here is, if not for my mind, then for my well-being.  "But you're almost twenty-six, Em."  "But all your friends are getting married and starting families, Em."  "But when I was your age, I was King of the Universe."  Perhaps I exaggerate that last, but the longer I study, the more I am made to feel that if I do not finish soon, I am somehow less of a person than the rest of the world.
Needless to say, I've developed a bit of a complex, though only a select few will be privy to the breakdowns I have, and the rest of the world will only see me smiling, working hard, pretending that I'm excited to finally be done when school when the truth is, I couldn't be dreading anything more.
Perhaps I fear the unknown.  Where will I go?  What will I do?  Who will I keep with me and who will I toss aside?  What can I do with a music degree?
Perhaps I fear falling into patterns, becoming weighed down by generational curses.  So much talent, so much potential, but what if I end up like him?  What if, once in the so-called 'real world,' I become a terrible person?  What if I ruin everything I touch?  What if I hurt the ones I love the most?  What if I find myself wandering down the side of the road in nothing but jeans and a t-shirt, shivering in the evening air, without a friend to my name and nowhere to go?
What if I'm just being overdramatic?
Whatever may come, this shall be a year to remember...and I hope to God I can forget that summer to make it so.
Cheers.

Long time no see...

With the exception of the randomness that was my last post, anyway.

So perhaps you're wondering, what's new with Emma?
Or perhaps you're wondering, who is Emma?
Well, let me fill you in, on both counts...

I am in the spring of my junior year.  I'm preparing for my recital, come April.  Those of you who dare to live less than a twenty-four hours' drive from me, I'll be disappointed if you can't make it.
[Fact one: I have irrational expectations of family/friends.]
I'm supposed to practice at least three hours a day, though lately it's been around two, and half of that is taken up with practicing pieces for my accompanying class.  I'm accompanying two of the freshmen girls (is that a weird distinction to anyone else but me?), Aimee and Amanda, the first being a soprano, the second being (I think) a clarinetist.  Or wind instrument of some sort anyway...perhaps I should look at the score, but...
[Fact two: I miss out on the details because I'm impatient.]
It's a lot of fun, anyway, and I love playing piano, and I don't know why it took me so long to realize this...but piano, music, etc, is my life.  My LIFE.  Anyone who tells me I'm ridiculous isn't worth my time.  I pray you're not among that disturbingly numerous people.
I could say more about music, but...
[Fact three: I get bored easily, the older I get...which is probably backwards, but...]

I have three close friends that live in Billings.  (I recently added Travis to that small list.)
[Fact four: I don't open up to people all that easily.]
One of them happens to be MIA at the moment --those of you who are religious-minded, please say a prayer for her-- and I swear, I go through withdrawal when I don't see her.  Some people might think I should give up...judging by the looks of some people, I'm apparently ridiculous to keep after her, but...
[Fact five: When I make friends, I'm loyal to the end.]
Funny thing, that I have over four-hundred Facebook friends, more than three from Billings, and yet, the aforementioned statement stands.  And though I'm lonely sometimes, I gotta say it's exhausting putting in effort to make friends.  Because I noticed, it's always me.  Always.
[Fact six: Sometimes I exaggerate.]
There's this girl in choir that is making an effort, and I might add her if we stay close over the next semester.  My mum once told me that you can't really call someone a true friend unless you've known them for about two years.  The only exceptions are the ones you go through some really crazy stuff with.  Or the often-thought-to-be-mythological soulmate.  I've found one of those here.  Another one resides in Minnesota, and another in Maryland.  Rare and far apart, but they're my best friends ever.  There is another girl in choir that makes an effort...but there was a moment last semester where something was said to another person that should have been said to my face, and...
[Fact seven: I don't hold grudges often, but when I do, I hold them hard.]
She still tries, and I've mostly forgiven her, but I don't think she's the type that I want to stick around forever anyway, so...we'll see, I guess.  In the meantime, I stick with the ones I've got, and when I'm feeling hermitish (totally a word despite the red line that appears), I stick to myself, and it's okay.
[Fact eight: Though I dream big, at the end of the day, I always come back to wanting to be a hermit.]

I have familial issues.  Then again, don't we all?
[Fact nine: I'm not a big fan of 'airing dirty laundry,' and tend to look down on others who do.]

This spring I'm going on a service trip with the Billings Catholic Campus Ministry--
[Fact ten: I'm not Catholic, but they're nicer than most other Christians I meet, so I stick with them.]
--to Philadelphia.  I'm going to be living and working in a homeless shelter along side the homeless, for my entire spring break.  I'm really looking forward to it, and I can't wait to see what God has in store for me on this trip.
[Fact eleven: I need to get outside of myself, a fact made obvious to myself more often than I'd like.]
We're doing a bunch of fundraiser things, and studying hospitality and something called 'Catholic Social Justice/Social Teaching' or something like that.  It's pretty amazing how simple it really is, if we only take the time to stop and get outside of ourselves.
[Fact twelve: I tend to repeat things that are important.]
While prayer is the most important thing, we're still looking for donations, so if anyone wants to contribute, please email me: emily.king@rocky.edu, and I can send you more info and such.
[Fact thirteen: The longer I live, the less afraid I am to ask for a handout.]

I almost want to stop there just because...
[Fact fourteen: Thirteen is kind of a 'lucky' number for me, though I don't actually believe in luck.]

Though actually, I could have stopped anyway.
[Fact fifteen: If I'm not writing fiction, I can't focus for very long.]

Anyway, so those are the big things.  And I'll try to get on more often, even if it's just to post a little video or something.

Oh, but before I go...
http://cobalt.rocky.edu/~emily.king/index.html
Here's my school site.  There is a link to this page, plus to another writing blog, and my philosophy class...which is kind of awesome and the first question was posted, and though I think that Crossan (author of the first book we read) is kind of blasphemous sometimes, I still like him.
[Fact sixteen: I'm non-denominational charismatic, I love God, I only go to regular church on holidays, otherwise for all intents and purposes I'm Catholic.]
So yeah, go check it out, if you like.

Cheers.

Because sometimes life doesn't make sense...