3.) A song that makes you happy.
What else but a song actually called “Happy?”
When Robby and I first started talking, I listened to this song all the time because I was happy. And I’m still happy.
3.) A song that makes you happy.
What else but a song actually called “Happy?”
When Robby and I first started talking, I listened to this song all the time because I was happy. And I’m still happy.
Normally when Spring rolls around, I open my window, freshen up my room, enjoy the sound of birds singing and sit on the front porch to soak it all in. It’s been years since I have actually gone outside to play and run around and get some exercise. I have gotten back on track with my life.
I started eating breakfast again. Every morning, I dig out the Rice Krispies, pour myself a bowl along with a glass of OJ and then settle down with one of my daily vitamins that I need to up the iron level in my body. I’m a girl, you see, and girls need more iron than boys do. I have established a rather strict routine to keep up with everything. I don’t scramble to get homework done anymore; I get it done right after it’s assigned and then I don’t have to worry. It’s fun not having any worries. Hakuna Matata!
Last Sunday, I was sick, which is odd for me. I’m NEVER sick. The last time I missed school was when I had pink eye – that doesn’t qualify as the queasiness I’m speaking of now. I get plenty of Vitamin C, take cough syrup when I feel a cold coming on and suck it up when I have a tiny stomachache. But, on this day, I woke up, felt awful, vomited a couple times and then took to the couch for the rest of the day, with only my pillow, a blanket, a heating pad and the drone of a television to keep me company. That one day was the first day in well over a month that I was completely miserable. Part of it has to do with the fact that I felt like I was going to die. The other part was the fact that it was the first day in a streak of nineteen that I hadn’t spent the day with Robby. Yeah, you read correctly. We are inseparable. When I told this to some people in my English class the Monday after that dreadful Sunday, one girl (who was astounded, I might add) asked me, “how do you get all of your schoolwork done?” because, well, Robby is over at my house or I’m over at his every school night. I replied with “well, while you guys are all talking during the free time we have in Chemistry, I sit down and get all of my homework done.” This relates back to the routine I now have down pat. I get all of my homework done and then I don’t have to worry about it, and plus, I get to see Robby. Which yeah, I could get my homework done after he leaves, but that’s generally around 10 o’clock and lately I’ve been getting to bed around 10:30, which is very, very early for me. But hey, it’s all a part of wanting to live a healthier lifestyle.
Now, back to the part about Spring. Normally, I watch it happen. This year, I’ve been a part of it. Robby has shown me how. If it’s nice out, you’d better believe we’re outside doing something. We spent March 21st jumping from cliffs into pits of sand. I definitely lived that day. It felt good to live. Since then, we’ve taken countless walks, gazed at the stars, swung on the swings behind his house, jumped on the trampoline, played catch, ridden our bikes and sat out on the porch with smoothies that I surprised him with. I saw him three different times today, much like I did yesterday. He surprised me by stopping by this morning on his bike before heading out to practice. After practice, he rode right back, and I welcomed him with a strawberry banana smoothie I’d made up for him in my hand. Then, back he came for the real plans that we had made for today. My feet get covered with dirt everyday, and it’s such a great feeling.
I feel healthy. I feel free. I feel fun. I’ve felt the sun on countless occasions already, and Spring has hardly even started. I have a good feeling about everything, and I hope this never stops. I’m the old me with a new twist, and there are so many people out there that are happy to see that I’ve returned to my happy, bubbly self. I’m back.
I can’t recall a month in my life that could possibly be happier than the one I just lived. Robby and I have been nearly inseparable for a month now, and I’ve loved every minute of it.
We’ve been together 11 times in the past 11 days. We see each other at least once a day, no matter what day it is. We do something different everyday, too, and we never have a plan. He comes over or I go over to his house and we just do whatever. It’s as simple as that. There is no prep time to take into account. We’ve watched a million movies, played a million games and had a million conversations. Last night, we walked my dogs and visited my grandparents before he watched me dominate in Guitar Hero in our “rumpus room.”
I’m always thinking about him and always get ideas for things to do for him. I got a great idea today while we were in Target after we went to the movies to see The Crazies (it was okay…just a little gory, but I had Robby there to protect me), but couldn’t tell him what it was. When he asked to know, I simply shook my head and said “you’ll find out soon enough!” He also has something he’s saving for today to celebrate one happy month together, and I cannot wait to see what’s in store!
We have so many plans. This week, we’re going four-wheeling with his dad (who is awesome) and in the very near future we’re going to go on camping trips with both his family and then mine. Summer will be great as long as he can come over everyday. We’ll spend the first month of vacation looking forward to those Yankees games in Cleveland we’re going to in late July with his dad, my dad and possibly one of my brothers.
Which reminds me of another thing. Our school’s baseball teams haven’t had a single game yet, but I’ve already seen Robby play baseball twice. The other day after track practice, I headed over to the baseball field and watched him play for an hour without him knowing. I saw his dad too, but neither of them knew I was there. When I went into the JV dugout to say goodbye to him, the look on his face was one I’ll never forget. When he told his dad later that I had been there, his reply was: “why didn’t she come over and see me?!?!?” That’s when I knew, once again, that I’ve got it good.
Right now I’m listening to my playlist of songs that remind me of him. I just can’t get enough. I’m pretty sure he fell asleep, because he was supposed to call me at one o’clock, but that’s okay. We have a whole day stretching out ahead of us once I get my research paper done today. I have no doubt in my mind that we’ll see each other. I love that.
A week ago, I was riding through Florida, then Georgia and finally the Carolinas. The temperature stayed consistent all the way up to Charlotte where we spent the night. It was 74-degrees out when we left. Now, a week later, I’m sitting in my bedroom brightened by the flurry of white snow flying around outside. I miss the warmth of Florida, but I love being home and in my own room.
It’s been a great, albeit long, week. That sweet boy I had been writing about constantly before I went off to Florida became my new boyfriend and then a few days later, my prom date. I barely got anything done this week because he was up at my house nearly every night. It was a week of late nights this week, scrounging to get everything done, but it was all worth it. And, I always managed to get everything done.
I got rid of my stupid bangs this week. I mean yeah, I think I look good with them, possibly even older, but they were just a pain in the neck to get ready in the morning. And, on days when they didn’t cooperate, I was miserable. Track starts in a week, and I don’t want them to get in the way. That’s that.
I decided not to even bother with Girls State. I got the sheets with the information about it and was so gung ho and ready to do it, and then yesterday, I just decided I wasn’t interested. It would take a whole week out of my summer; a week that will probably hold the dates of many graduation parties I would miss. The idea of a week spent running a “government” or whatever wasn’t appealing. Plus, I hate girls, and that doesn’t help, right? Sure, it would look great on my resume, but who would I be kidding? I’m not interested in that shit and I never will be.
This week has been full of random conversations with random people. I think that maybe I’m broadening my horizons and possibly even making a few new friends (which is weird, in our small town). I have been talking a lot more to people that in the beginning year I’d claimed I had hated (course, keep in mind that I was miserable for the entire first half of this school year). I’m finding that I love the way life’s going right now.
I cannot wait for prom. I’m going to be a flapper no matter what our prom theme is. I’m going with someone I know I’ll have a good time with, and that is so comforting.
It was like greeting an old friend as soon as my feet found the pavement. The snow had melted just enough and the air seemed balmy in all its glory of forty degrees Fahrenheit. I’ve always found it amazing just how different forty degrees can be, depending on the perspective you’re taking. When the seasons change from summer to fall, 40 degrees seems like the coldest temperature on earth. But, when the winter chill backs off a bit and lets in some of that 40-degree air, it’s as if spring has come early. It’s the same temperature and yet, it’s different.
I had considered making up a quick playlist of songs I could listen to while I ran, but I opted to leave my iPods at home, instead. The birds sang as I left the cul-de-sac I have lived on my whole life and let my legs carry me out to the main road and down the hill. I was surprised at how good I felt and let that carry me through the pain as muscles were put back into use after remaining dormant for nearly two months. The pain gave me something to think about and something to distract me from the mountain of homework I had to do and the hardships I had been dealing with on a regular basis.
When I was running, I didn’t have to feel anything but the pain from the exertion I was putting my body through. When I thought about it hard enough, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, but if I just let my mind wander and let my legs do my thinking for me, nothing really mattered. I ran by a business that owes my dad money and considered trashing it. But, I didn’t. I kept running and made my way toward the hill that stood menacingly in the not-so-distant distance.
My energy deteriorated once I reached the top, but I kept on running. I reached my halfway mark and kept going. I thought about how natural it is for me to run and how effortless it can be once I am in good shape to do it. I thought about the summer and how the three of us took part of this same route in an effort to be in shape for cross-country season. I thought about how fast the time goes and how it doesn’t make sense to try and cherish every moment. If you’re too busy cherishing, you’re not living. You’re just trying to keep it in your memory forever. A memory should be something you remember effortlessly, not something you save onto the desktop in your brain so you can click on it and wait for it to load.
I decided against taking a shortcut and instead went the whole way around and back to my street. I took a left, ran down to the green Pennysaver box and then took a right, thinking in my head about that last 200m that I face with every race I run on the track. I ran halfway up my slushy driveway and then bent over to catch my breath. I always do this, and then I bend my knees carefully before reaching my full height (5’2″ if you were wondering) and then walking around a little bit, my hands over my head.
I entered through the side garage door, made my way through the traffic blocking my way to the house door (sleds, snowshoes, etc) and shed my running sneakers (New Balance this year – a brand I never really gave a chance until over the summer), grabbed my already-full glass of water off of our butcher block-esque island and downed it in a second.
My ears stung from the cold and my breathing was wheezy with each inhale and exhale I made.
“How’d you feel?” my dad asked.
“All right,” I replied. “I started out too fast and was dead by the end, but it felt good to run. I’m gonna go lay down now.”
I entered the family room and plopped onto our brand-new couch to catch my wheezy breaths. After thirty minutes passed without my daddy turning on the TV, I went upstairs and grabbed The Lovely Bones and continued reading from where I had left off right before daddy had picked me up at the school just barely an hour previously. We sat there, father and daughter, reading our books of choice: his a Yankee book that someone had gotten him and mine a novel that had been made into yet another movie based off of a book. He wore one of his many pairs of $0.99 reading glasses and I wore the sweat and dirt of a girl who had almost made it through one of the toughest weeks of her sixteen years of living, and was coming out on the other side unscathed and perfectly fine.
At 4 o’clock, I tossed my book down and ran the shower upstairs in the bathroom that all of my brothers had vacated and bestowed unto me (we painted it a light brown and pretty light blue and got rid of the old Mickey Mouse theme that had previously reigned).
Before shedding my clothing, I focused on the length of my hair in the mirror. Back in ninth grade, it was a shock of bright-red curls. Now, it’s back to its normal color (brown/blond/red depending on the season and amount of sun received), though the curls have been kept (I have not dyed my hair since November 2008). I’ve decided that I want it to be long for when I take my senior pictures. I thought to myself Oh yeah, it will be long enough by the summer after this one!
And then it hit me.
I will be taking my senior pictures this summer. It’s crazy just how much time flies and how one change in your thoughts can create a chain-reaction of changes throughout your entire mind. At the moment, I am halfway through my junior year of high school. In June, I will sing in the Chamber Choir and watch some of my best friends ever don those white and blue robes and graduate from our little sliver of the universe and move on to bigger (and better) things. This hit me hard because I realized that I haven’t exactly enjoyed my high school experience that much. In recent months, Misery had taken over my entire being and forced me to look at everything pessimistically. But now, happy little Emily is back, and she plans on staying happy and little until she is forced to grow up in a year and a half.
At 7:o0 yesterday morning, “Into The Ocean” by Blue October started bursting out of the speakers on my triangular iHome. I continually hit the “snooze” button until I could do so no longer. I gave up at 7:30 and dragged my sorry butt out of bed to face what would turn into an extremely long day.
This weekend was Homecoming weekend. The problem was, I hadn’t given Homecoming a single thought because I had a huge obstacle to get through first. Conveniently, we had a cross-country meet in the freezing cold wind and mud. And, my race was to be the last race of the day. We left at 8:30 in order to get there by 10:00, and I didn’t run until 2:30. All of this equals one long and cold day.
I ran well, and yes, hanging out with the team is always fun. I finally met the guy that has been taking pictures at meets (in which I sometimes appeared) for years, and coincidentally he is also one of my employers. I got to snuggle with five of my teammates to build up the warmth we so desperately sought and got to experience one crazy bus ride.
After my race, we [my family] left immediately. After a few stops along the way, we finally got home at 5:00, and my boyfriend was to be at the house at 6:30 to get some pictures taken beforehand.
The dance was fun. My only complaint was the complete lack of slow songs. He (one of my brother’s friends who played the DJ) must have wanted to keep up with the “rave” theme Student Council had whipped up, but he only played three slow songs and I, along with many others, was disappointed. The entire gym smelled like bare feet and glow stick fluid because people kept breaking open the complimentary glow sticks everyone wore around their necks. A friend of mine actually got squirted in the eye with one at the very beginning of the dance, and she commented that it was very painful.
Afterward, we headed up to a friend’s house to attempt an all-nighter. Everyone but my boyfriend, my friend and me fell asleep. At five o’clock, we decided to get back in the hot tub and didn’t end up surfacing from it until seven. And yes, we got very prune-y.
It was a fun night. I was happy that my boyfriend and I matched perfectly and it’s always a treat to see classmates all dolled up instead of just sauntering around in their pajamas or jeans during the average school day.
I have learned many lessons in my fifteen years. Not as many as other people have, I’m sure, but I am getting there. I could sit here and try to think of them all, but there is only one that stands out to me everyday to show just how prominent it is. Being polite gets you far. No question about it.
My parents have always taught me to say “please” and “thank you” whenever the chance arises; to be courteous and open a door or two for people, and to help an old lady out by loading her groceries into her car. (Okay, so that hasn’t happened yet, but I am waiting for the chance to do so!) It’s not like we – or I – believe in karma, that what goes around comes around (in this case, it’s a good “what”), it’s more like we go by “do unto others as you would have done unto you.” It’s that sort of thing. So, when I have to pass in front of a person or need a person to move out of the way, I say “excuse me” and get what I needed accomplished complete in a polite and sincere manner. I hold doors open for people, and when I hear a simple “thank you” it makes me happy and brightens my day considerably. I am careful to lower my voice when in public so as to not annoy or aggravate those around me whom I do not know. I am considerate, courteous, and thoughtful. I think about not only what I need, but what others need and wish for as well.
Now, what’s the point of this insightful post? Well, today was one of those days where every person I met was not polite in any way whatsoever. In Walmart, my mother and I were in the produce department looking at the Clementine oranges, and this lady came over and leaned over where we were standing without a single uttering of “excuse me.” Each time someone does this to us, either my mother or myself will say “excuse me” for the person who lacked to do so. It is so rude to just barge in near a person whom you are not acquainted with. The nerve of some people!
Lastly, my mother and I went to Kohls to check out what kind of a selection of flannel shirts they carried. We purchased what we wanted, and headed out the door. Well, almost entering the door we are heading out of troops three women. Okay, so my mom went on through and opened the outside door for them, and I opened the second door that led to the inside of the store. They walked on by. No acknowledgment. Not a single one of those three women said a tiny little “thank you.” They didn’t even look at us. Well, my mom yelled “you’re welcome!” and then we walked across the parking lot, ranting about how there are no polite people these days.
And it’s the truth. Honestly, some people have no class and are so rude that it kills me. No wonder our country is so messed up. People take the help they receive for granted, and don’t know how to feel thankful for anything. I was raised to be cordial and polite to everyone I ever come in contact with, whether I like the person or not. You’d better believe that my children will have manners and know how to say “thank you” more than every once in awhile. They will appreciate everything I have provided them with, and will hopefully spread it on to this thankless nation. The people in this state, in this country, no, in this world, need a little make-over. Maybe I shall build an arc and rid the world of all of these people with a teensy little flood. Start the world over with a group of people that know and adhere to my policy. “Do unto others as you would have done unto you.”
I feel like ranting. Hope you’re ready for this.
I just viewed Miley Cyrus’s video for “Fly On The Wall.” Now, I didn’t mean to watch it, I was perfectly happy with the 3OH!3 video that was before it, but I cannot control the playlist on Playlist. Though I wish I could, sadly I cannot.
She is so annoying. I hate all of these pop artists that think they are hot shit and stuff. They think that absolutely everyone loves them, even though quite a few people obviously don’t. Another example is Beyonce’s “Irreplaceable.” Now, I respect Beyonce more than Miley, but the whole “I could have another you in a minute” really cheesed me off. Yes, Beyonce, now we know that you are a whore and like it. Good for you! Now shut up.
Anyway, back to Miley.
It just feels like the perfect time to rant about her again. Remember my post from over the summer? Ha… well, here’s more.
I didn’t mind her when she first appeared out of nowhere. I watched Hannah Montana every once in awhile and kind of liked it. After some time, she definitely didn’t grow on me. SpongeBob did, but she didn’t. After the whole Vanity Fair fiasco all I remember thinking is “ew.” I never was a fan of hers, but after the magazine thing, I didn’t care for her at all. Here she is, this role model on Disney Channel for all of these young kids that love and adore her, and then she has to do something like that. Gross.
Her voice is awful, I don’t think she’s that pretty, and her chipmunk teeth annoy the hell out of me. The part in the music video when the “paparazzis” start dancing really got to me. She’s just standing there with her mouth part way open and her teeth sticking out. Very attractive. She’s obviously trying to break free of “cute little Miley” and trying to be “bad ass Miley.” It’s not working. All of these Disney people seem to think they have to prove that they aren’t as “goody goody” as they seem. It’s starting to get a little annoying, to tell you the truth.
I feel bad for all of the young kids that look up to this Miley character. Pretty soon they’ll be wearing really tight jeans and throwing their hair about in an attempt to be like Miley, who tries to be sexy. She’s a little older than I am, but she is acting like she’s in her twenties. If being a “Fly On The Wall” means having to listen to stupid gossip and hair products and clothes and shoes, well, I hope they see me and swat me. Or…I could buzz around her head and annoy the hell out of her. Yes, that sounds much better. In the meantime, I’ll stick with only ONE “Fly On The Wall.” Instead of watching Miley’s horrible video, go read the book Fly On The Wall by e. lockhart. It’s far better than any song Miley will ever sing. (Attempt to sing…)
I’ve been thinking quite a bit lately. Mostly about life, death, murder, killing… etc…
Where am I going with this? Well…
I have been thinking about people that have taken another person’s life. Murderers, crazy people, people that should call a jail cell home as punishment for what they’ve done… What gives those people the right to take someone’s life away? Do they think that they are important enough to do something as horrible as that? How can someone stand up, point a gun at someone, shoot, and then still be able to live with themselves afterward? I have future spreading out in front of me, or so it seems. What if I don’t? What if someone suddenly decides that they are good enough to take my life because they are not happy with their own? Yes, I am full of “what ifs,” but that’s just how I am.
I think guns should be illegal. Yes, they’re useful for hunting and whatnot, but these instruments can end someone’s life with the pull of the trigger – what gives a person the right to do that?