Excuses

But Coach, I couldn’t find my iPod Shuffle to take running with me today, therefore I couldn’t run! (Disregards fact that I own three other very useable iPods.)

MISSING:

Answers to the name “Pink Baby.”

(I’m sure I’ll find it soon…my room is a mess of suitcases and dirty clothes. It’s bound to turn up.)

My room is disgusting

I’m not the most organized person in the world, but I do like for things to have their own place and not be spread out on the pink carpet on my floor. I usually do my laundry every weekend and tidy up my room at the same time. During the week I tend to just drop everything on the floor, and by the time the weekend arrives, I cannot stand it. Last week was crazy.

Valentine’s Day was on Monday. We didn’t do anything too special, but I did make Robby’s favorite dinner (mashed potatoes with chicken, corn, gravy and cheese – it imitates the mashed potato bowl KFC offers but it’s much better). I put red food coloring into the gravy and then poured it over the mashed potatoes I had dyed pink. Voila! Happy Valentine’s Day.

Tuesday was Trevor’s 22nd birthday. We drove out to Fredonia to take him out to dinner and then afterward, Mom and Dad took off in Jordan’s car with Trevor (and Jordan, of course) so they could go visit the bar that he works at. I was left with the keys to our red Suzuki Forenza and a 19-year-old brother that didn’t want to go with me to WalMart (where I needed to pick up stuff for the induction dinner). I drove him back to his dorm, took pain reliever he provided (my back was killing me) and then drove back to WalMart all on my lonesome. Well, long story short, I couldn’t find what I needed there.

Wednesday night, Mom and I ventured to Hamburg to find the special fancy paper I needed. We didn’t get back too late, but it was still exhausting.

Thursday was the nicest day of the week. I had Bubbles’ sunroof and windows open as I ran errands around town for the dinner (I should get reimbursed for gas, dammit!). I helped set up at the dinner venue, then rushed home around 5 o’clock only to rush back down at 5:30. Friday was supposed to be my night to relax…well…you already know about that dilemma.

Anyway, back to my room.

My bedside table is covered with: hair mousse, a cup with an inch of water (I’m still working on it), hand lotion, a phone case, an orange hair tie, a green pen, a phone, an earrings box (Robby got me sapphires!), a deck of cards that Robby personalized with our photo on the back of them, an orange pen, two retainers, a box of tissues, a photo album, a pink “click” super tampon (SUUUPER TAMPON doo doo doo doo doo doo!), a photo of Robby and me at prom, a black hair tie, two glasses of I-don’t-know-what from Friday, a hair doohickey, the cap to the hair mousse, a necklace with a diary key on it, a photo of my daddy and me, a sewing needle, a blue pen, a packet of that stuff that’s supposed to help your flowers live longer (which kind of looks like a condom), ANOTHER black hair tie, an iHome with one of my iPods on it, that plastic tube thingy that flowers come in in a bouquet, and I think that’s it. Whew!

My desk is another story. From here, I can see (since I’m still in bed):two purses, an empty orange pop can, an opened bag of Haribo (Kids and grown-ups love it so, the happy world of Haribo!), a giant Hershey Kiss, a photo printer, a container of generic Febreze, a book that I’m reading, X-Men The Last Stand DVD, two Hershey Kiss tins, a Drake Bell CD (Salvation Army for $1.50!), a box of chocolates, David sunflower seeds, a chocolate sucker Robby made me for Valentine’s Day (awww), a box of green apple Tic Tacs. That’s all I’m going to name for now. Phew!

The floor is littered with three different pillows, a few bath towels, a photo collage frame that I need to finish, my schoolbag, slippers, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (since I’m rereading the series for the seventh or eighth time), wrapping paper, jewelry supplies, and I don’t feel like naming anything more.

Just take my word for it; it’s a mess. At least I disposed of that cup of coffee from Friday that had nearly solidified…it was starting to stink up the whole room. I’m still in bed…maybe I’ll close my Netbook and go back to sleep…after I finish this glass of water on my nightstand.

For everything there is a season

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.

It’s Blitz!

Don’t get me wrong, I love my iPods and the fact that I can download new music in a second, but there is still something so satisfying about purchasing a new CD or vinyl. The last time I went on a big CD shopping spree I bought MGMT’s Oracular Spectacular, Tilly and the Wall’s O and Punk Goes Pop Vol. 2. Three CDs in one trip is a lot when you figure that you have to make the time to listen to all three enough before you buy another CD to add to the collection.

For Christmas, my brother bought me Flyleaf’s Memento Mori. Album versions are always better and this was proven when I compared the quality of the songs on the CD to the versions I already had on my iPod. I thought the songs sounded great on my iPod, but they sounded even better coming from the CD.

I borrowed my boyfriend’s copy of 1997’s On The Run and have yet to even pick it up and listen to it because I went crazy buying CDs yesterday (well, not to too crazy by some people’s standards, but crazy for me).

My brother and I went to FYE and I went up and down the CD aisles looking for a trace of Tilly and the Wall, The Bird and the Bee, Eisley or Silversun Pickups. Instead, different CDs caught my eye. I picked up a copy of Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ It’s Blitz! that was only $9.99 and kept it in my hand. On the way down the aisles I picked up Marilyn Manson’s The High End of Low, some Huey Lewis and the News, Radiohead and Garbage. In the end I decided on Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Garbage and Radiohead – the last two being cheap used CDs that I had wanted but never wanted to pay the full price for.

The reason why I rarely listen to CDs anymore is because of this: http://www.last.fm/user/xEmilyBemilyx

My friend got me hooked to last.fm and I eagerly started to build up my profile and play count (I failed to realize I could have scrobbled in what I had already listened to on my iTunes from years previously – if I had realized that I would probably be up into the 20,000s by now). What I listen to on my iPod transfers to the website to count toward my play count. This is the reason why I never listened to CDs. All I wanted was to build up my play count. But, now that I am nearly at 10,000, I feel satisfied enough to listen to the CDs I bought and not worry about it counting toward something. Though I thoroughly enjoyed listening to lots and lots of music in a short amount of time, I knew I was listening to it for the wrong reasons. I had even stopped listening to records; something I had enjoyed.

I’m done listening to music for the wrong reason. Now that I’m at 10,000 plays I feel satisfied enough to dabble into my record player/CD player/radio once again and not worry about finding my radio hookup for my iPod so that the plays count for something (what I listen to on my iPod can count for track plays once hooked up to the computer). I’m going to keep listening to the CDs I bought and not give a crap.