I've sent out my resume every where. I just don't get it. Just because I don't have any skills... or experience... or an applicable degree... I mean, is that any reason not to give me lots of money with great benefits and vacation time? What's the deal??

Sigh. The fourth of July. Such warm memories. Kind of. I mean, it usually rained a bit and we had our BBQ inside or under the patio's roof. And I spent the majority of the day cooking and cleaning. But it was good. And I'll tell you why. I had a very drunk and very crazy "neighbor" guy. Our next door neighbor was Keith's ex-wife. Yet, Keith spent all day every day over there. His old cars he was working on were still in the driveway, the garage was still filled with his tools and other stuff. His ex-wife still supported him from what I could tell. He just wandered around with his shirt off and his tan beer belly hanging out (which was decorated with scars from his heart surgeries). But Keith was my favorite neighbor. He'd tote me around like I was some kind of precious prize. He'd come over and kidnap me or temp me out with his Chocolate Charleston Chews, "Psst! Emmaloo! I've got some Charleston Chews here for ya! Think you can get away? Put your swimsuit on and see if you can get away from that mother of yours for some fireworks and a diving lesson!" Then he'd let me take my pick of his huge stash of fireworks. Each year he'd go to several Indian Reservations and spend hundreds and hundreds of dollars on the best of the illegal fireworks. For weeks before the holiday, he'd set them off. Before I was in kindergarten, he taught me the art of lighting a firecracker bigger than I was without losing a hand. I felt like the Karate Kid with Mr. Miagi. Learning from a master... who was drunk. I loved spending time with my Keith. He'd keep me pumped with Charleston Chews and would try to bribe me to blow up our neighbors' mailboxes with cherry bombs. We'd laugh together at the loud cracks and bright sparks and as we accidentally set something on fire. Then, on the night of the 4th, Keith would put on the neighborhood fireworks show. And it was GREAT! The show would go on for an hour or two with the fireworks getting bigger and bigger (and more and more illegal). Everybody loved Keith and the other neighborhood kids who made fun of me all year would watch with envy as Keith let me set of the biggest fireworks. That was my tradition for about my first sixteen years.

Around that time, Keith's drinking had gotten worse and he got a bit more sloppy with his firework skills. One year he bought this huge rolled-up firework from an Indian Reservation. He was supposed to roll it out and light one end and it would make loud pops as the fire went down the line. But Keith was too drunk to figure out how to unroll it. So he just set it in the street and set it on fire. It sounded as if a bomb went off and red confetti of fire sprayed everywhere. Our tree, which was on that corner caught fire. The neighbors ran frantically to get hoses to put the fire out. Keith layed down in the street and laughed at the falling pieces. "Did you see that Emmaloo?" "Ya, could have taken out quite a few mailboxes with that one." "Hehehe... ya..." That was the last time we had the fireworks show.

So time for new tradition. Today I slept in as much as I could with the parade outside my window. In a minute I'll start cleaning my room and straightening the apartment. Around 5pm Lisa will be back and then I'll follow Kat, Lisa and Liz to wherever they want to go. I'll leave the firework lighting to the professionals and sit back with some friends. Life is good. But I do miss Keith, his Charleston Chews and his endless supply of illegal fireworks.

According to Gary Chapman, there are Five Languages of Love. They are...
1 - Words of Affirmation
2 - Quality Time
3 - Receiving Gifts
4 - Acts of Service and
5 - Physical Touch.
For me, I'm pretty sure that my Love Language is quality time. I love nice words, great hugs, random acts of service and the occasional gift as much as the next girl, but when somebody wants to spend time with me... that's when I know they care. Wanting to be around me equals loving me. I know this is my love language because if I don't get the other four things, I can easily write it off. But if they don't spend time with me, I take it personally... quick. I'm overly sensitive about it. A freak kind of. "What? You don't want to hang out? You're moving out? You haven't visited me in days! You must hate me! There's something wrong with me. You say you love me but you must not mean it if you can't stand to be around me." A little over the top, I realize. And it's really not as bad as I say it is. But quality time really is important to me. Which is funny because I think I might express love differently... but I don't know... maybe I should actually read the book...

So, I guess I'm going home. My mom asked for immediate action, but I held her off until the 16th so that I'd be here for Lisa's birthday. When I agreed to give up Girls' Camp to be there for the fam, she cried and said that she had been praying for that and that it was proof that God heard her prayers. Funny, I had been praying that I'd get to go to Girls' Camp. But God can't grant eastbound wind for the hot-air ballon and westbound wind for the sailboat at the same time. Something's gotta give. And this time I'm the giver.
But I'm actually not all that upset about giving up my week with the youth as I am about spending so much time away from my friends down here. Besides, Washington is so brown and ugly I wish I were dead. Wait, not Washington... Utah. And not me... you.

I love it when I'm right. But I love it less when I have to face the "Big Bad" to prove that I'm right. Was it worth it? Probably not. No.

Yes, today I went to the doctor. He did what it is that doctors do. (It really wasn't so bad.) And he told me exactly what was wrong... not so much an ear infection as an inflamed something or other. And even better? There isn't much he can do. He guesses I just had some bad virus back around the time it turned up, which was early April when I was working in an elementary school and was constantly sick with one thing or another, and it will just have to clear up on its own. So he gave me a name of some vitamin or herb or something and told me to start searching in health food stores to see if they carry it because it might speed up the healing process then told me he was sorry that I was in pain and then sent me on my way.

So, it turns out that a doctor visit wasn't necessary at all, I wasn't being neglectful by not going earlier and I didn't miss out on any miracle cure. I was right. I braved a doctor visit and didn't even get a lollipop... or more importantly, drugs.

Road trips make me happy. Going on road trips with Liz and Kat make me happy. Visiting Heather makes me happy. From Justin to Kelly makes me happy (in a twisted sort of way). Reading the new Harry Potter book on the beach in the sun makes me happy. Making sand castles makes me happy. Eating ice cream makes me happy. Apples to Apples makes me happy. Driving to Anaheim through fire while exchanging life stories makes me happy. Disneyland makes me happy. Spending a whole day with Liz and Kat in my happy place makes me happy. Fireworks make me happy. Coming back to my Villa friends makes me happy.

I'm happy. Really happy. Real happiness. Real. Really real. Really happy. Real.

Movie Ticket: $9.75
Costs of making 'From Justin to Kelly': a lot
Laughing with Heather, Liz and Kat as we watch fate at its best: Priceless

Disneyland Entrance: $47
Disneyland Coke: $2.75
Falling in love with Liz and Kat all over again: Priceless

Woohoo! Tomorrow I leave for California... knows how to party! It makes me feel all happy inside. One because I'll be with two of my very best friends. Two because I'll be visiting Heather who I miss on ridiculous levels. Three because there's a chance for sun, beaches and Mickey Mouse. Four because I'm getting away from Provo. And Five because it'll be a great distraction from myself and my thoughts. Yes, yes. Road trips are good and good for you.

The Color Code:
I AM...
22 Blue
19 White
3 Yellow
1 Red
What does it mean? I don't know. I'd like to think it means that I'm a good person who cares about people. But it could mean that I'm short, stubborn and confused. It could mean anything. Or nothing. Or something inbetween. I give up. The colors are pretty though, huh?

Or not... I guess my appointment was for yesterday. I showed up to the doctor's and it turns out I wrote it down wrong. And since my folks' said I could only go if I went in June and I leave tomorrow for the remainder of the month... it's a no go. I can live with that.

Well, today I face the "Big Bad" alone. Today I must visit a doctor. I've had an ear ache for well over a month now. I finally broke down and made an appointment last week and the earliest they could get me in was today. So, I've had a full week to dread the appointment. I almost cancelled several times. I mean, my ear doesn't hurt that bad. It's not a big deal really. Why go to a doctor? But then I talked myself out of it by reminding myself that since it's been bothering me for over a month, it's probably not going to go away on its own and also my roommates would kill me, or worse, make fun of me for as long as I live. So, I'm going. Man, I hate doctors. Who's treating me to ice cream afterwards?

I recently gave an Enrichment lesson on the importance of journaling. I found an old journal-type thing of mine today. I wasn't impressed. I guess I did it wrong. Or lived wrong. Or something...

But that's not all. No, no.
--Talked to Heather online.
--Realized my hair dye was in longer than needed.
--Showered.
--Ran upstairs to use a hair dryer.
--Called Heather.
--Called Heather.
--Called Heather.
--Went next door to argue with David. Took phone with me.
--Phone rang. Yay!
--Talked to Lisa.
--Called Heather.
--Called Heather.
--Heather??
I think I'm the annoying kid. Even my out of state friends are avoiding me. Back to Harry Potter?

And then?
--Visited a friend. Shot down.
--Got my body pillow, my comforter, Ghirardelli squares and a water bottle. Curled up and read.
--Went to softball practice. Got blisters from the bat. But had a heck of a good time!
--Went grocery shopping. Bought junk food. And hot dogs. I don't like hot dogs. I ate two.
--Channel surfed for anything good. Nothing good. Went back to reading.
--Four knocks on the wall... heading over to 64...already seen Sweet Home Alabama... head back home for a bit.
--Remembered I bought hair dye. Dyed my hair.
I'll bet you're on the edge of your seat wondering what color, aren't you?

My day alone continues...
--Drove Liz to campus.
--Ate a sandwich.
--Vacuumed.
--Talked to Katie about missions and VTing.
--Went to see "Down With Love" at the dollar. One of the worst movies I've ever seen. A waste of 50 cents.
--Read.
Wow, I'm an interesting character. I should have my own website.

So... I'm alone. The roommate is gone until Thursday night or Friday morning. In either case, I have a few days. My experience as a loner so far goes as follows...
--Went to visit a friend. Denied.
--Read Harry Potter until I could no longer make out the words.
--Fell asleep and had a horrible nightmare where my worst fear came into vivid display.
--Woke up in a panic to my alarm clock singing the Winnie the Pooh theme song.
--Turned off alarm, instantly fell asleep again.
--Unwillingly returned to nightmare, woke up in a panic a half hour later.
--Read a chapter of Harry Potter.
--Read Blogs.
--Chatted with Jena, Ryan and Steve online.
--Made plans to see a movie at the dollar.
--Did a few sit-ups, called it a workout and moved on.
--Ran to the post office and mailed stuff to Lisa and my parents.
--Went to the library and got a library card and borrowed the sequel to the last book I read.
--Came home to clean.
--Some how got in a conversation about AirWave Pans.
--Got out of it and ran home.
--Watched Mad About You and decided I should eat.
--Realized I missed the movie. Making plans to see it at 2pm.
My gosh, it's only 12:30. My life's a lot more entertaining when Kat's here to make fun of it. Where are my friends? Where??

Sing it Tracy Chapman...

Done so many things wrong I don't know if I can do right
Oh I, Oh I've
Done so many things wrong I don't know if I can do right
At this point in my life
I've done so many things wrong I don't know if I can do right
If you put your trust in me I hope I won't let you down
If you give me a chance I'll try
You see it's been a hard road the road I'm traveling on
And if I take your hand I might lead you down the path to ruin
I've had a hard life I'm just saying it so you'll understand
That right now, right now, I'm doing the best I can

At this point in my life
At this point in my life
Although I've mostly walked in the shadows
I'm still searching for the light
Won't you put your faith in me
We both know that's what matters
If you give me a chance I'll try

You see I've been climbing stairs but mostly stumbling down
I've been reaching high always losing ground
You see I've been reaching high but always losing ground
You see I've conquered hills but I still have mountains to climb
And right now right now I'm doing the best I can
At this point in my life

Before we take a step
Before we walk down that path
Before I make any promises
Before you have regrets
Before we talk commitment
Let me tell you of my past
All I've seen and all I've done
The things I'd like to forget

At this point in my life
At this point in my life
I'd like to live as if only love mattered
As if redemption was in sight
As if the search to live honestly
Is all that anyone needs
No matter if you find it

You see when I've touched the sky
The earth's gravity has pulled me down
But now I've reconciled that in this world
Birds and angels get the wings to fly
If you can believe in this heart of mine
If you can give it a try
Then I'll reach inside and find and give you
All the sweetness that I have
At this point in my life
At this point in my life

I'm a pansy. A huge pansy. I know that even as I say this, you're not comprehending exactly how much of a pansy I am. I'm talking huge. I'm a huge pansy. Get it? Let me give you some examples of my state of pansiness...

1 - I sat in Kat's lap in the fetal position while watching Signs and still hid my eyes more than she said I had to.
2 - I had a nightmare and although I'm 22 now, I woke up screaming for help. "Liz!! Liz?? Kat!!! Kat???"
3 - The second Harry Potter was on at a neighbors. "Oh, I've never seen this one because I'm scared of the spider part."
"Oh, you mean this part?" A few HUGE spider legs creep into the scene.
"Oh, gosh! I have to go. I love you guys but I have to go!!" I bolted! I could hear them giggling at me as I left but still I bolted down the stairs as fast as possible.
4 - I saw a spider. Kat tried to push me towards it to make me kill it. I screamed. I screamed a lot. I screamed for David until he came and took care of it.
5 - Dad asked about my driving record and asked if it was still good. I still haven't told him about the ticket I got last summer. I said, "Uh huh." One ticket doesn't make my record bad. Technically, it wasn't a lie.
6 - Jaws left me afraid to walk from the pool to my apartment alone in the dark.

So there you have it. Just a few examples of Em being a pansy in the last week.

I have great memories of traveling from our home in Renton to Seattle 3 or 4 times a week as a young 6-10 year old. It's not a long trip, but it was a great and exciting trip for a young kid. We have to go over several bridges, including the floating bridge. That equalled a good time because we would pretend that we were paddling in a kayak or some other boat, or that we were swimming ridiculously fast. Wayne would peal into laughter as I'd pretend that a huge octopus had grabbed my leg or that a fish had bit my toe.

But the tunnels... the tunnels were where the real fun went on. At first I taught him the "hold your breath through the tunnel" rule. We had a great time watching our faces turn all different shades red, until my mom caught on to our game as well and would slow down as much as possible and have a little fun of her own. So we made up some new games. I would pretend that whenever we went into a tunnel we were in warp speed and we'd both throw ourselves back against the seat and try our best to make our faces look like they were being pulled back also. Then sometimes we'd combine the two and hold our breath as we were "speeding" through the tunnel. Wayne usually won because he'd make such funny "speeding" faces that I'd laugh and lose.

Tunnel games... good times.

The other night I had a dream inside of a dream. It was awesome! As Jack Handey said, "If you find yourself watching a play within a play, just sit back because you're in for the ride of your life!" And that it was. I'm pretty sure that my mind creating a dream inside of a dream is another piece of evidence proving that I'm a genius. Yes. It's all so clear to me.

And also, both times I "woke up"... I woke up flailing and yelling for my roommates. Am I six?

A six-year-old GENIUS!!!

Man, I hate being the mean kid. I'm not allowed to say I'm the short, fat kid any more. But now I've adopted this mean kid thing. I'd rather be the short, fat kid. Can I go back to that? Please? The dumb kid? I just don't want to be the mean kid. No more mean kid. I'm sorry I'm the mean kid. Sorry. Really sorry. Really. Really real. Real. Real. Real. Really. Really real. Real.