Random Acts of Emily

Feliz día de la independencia, México

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Thu, 16 Sep 2010 00:33:00 +0000

It's Mexico's 200th birthday today, and since my dream of being there for the big day is going unfulfilled, I thought I would try and alleviate my sadness about being stuck in gringolandia by hitting up my favorite Mexican grocery store and drowning my sorrows in an assortment of Mexican delicacies. My primary objective was to buy as many Mexican Cokes as I could carry, because as you well know if you've read more than 2 of my blog posts, I basically think that stuff is the nectar of the gods. But to my dismay, the Mexican grocery store no longer sells Mexican Coke! What is the world coming to?! I don't even know why I bother to live in this country anymore.

So I moved from the beverage aisle towards the dairy section so I could buy a vat of apple yogurt. Denied! Ok, ok, I could settle for a container of LaLa cream instead because it's approximately 100o times better than American sour cream. Nope, nowhere to be found. What the frick kind of Mexican grocery store has El Liborio become?!

In a last-ditch attempt to cheer up my sad taste buds, I headed to the taco counter. The guy working there decided that I should try some natural juices. He proceeded to tell me about how to make carrot juice, then shoved a sample of beet juice in my face. Once I'd downed it, he checked to make sure it was ok. He'd made it much earlier in the day and wasn't sure it was still good. In all honesty, I wasn't sure whether it had turned or not because I think beets taste a little puke-ish to begin with. But I was touched by his attempt to make sure it was drinkable after I had already consumed it. Normally I would have just left at that point, but by this time I was in desperate need of some Mexican goodness, so I ordered my delicious tacos as quickly as possible and got out of there. After all, I've had their tacos before and they were delish. This time, though? Not so much.

It was kind of a sucky day before all that happened what with my students not seeming to be able to keep their vocal chords from blaring and some other lameness going on in my life right now. But the fact that my Mexican grocery store - basically my own personal Disney Land - let me down, well that's just the last straw. I'm clearly going to have to start looking for a new Mexican grocery store.

Lookin' at the world through a windshield

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Sat, 24 Jul 2010 17:23:00 +0000

Summer is pretty much the best thing that's happened to me all year. I don't know how anyone can't be in love with it. I've been spending the last 2 months drumming up some adventures, so for your reading pleasure (and my own need to chronicle my life) I present you with the bullet-pointed summary of what I have been doing to fill my time.

I made a spur-of-the-moment decision to drive 20 hours to Michigan by myself to visit two of my favorite people on the planet, Sami and Pablo, who I used to work with in Mexico. I actually rather enjoyed driving back and forth across 1300 miles of corn and wheat fields (except when I had to drive through those 3 tornado warning/thunderstorms).
I got lost in the ghetto of Chicago (stupid GPS!) for about half an hour. When I was on the verge of finding my way back to a less terrifying part of the city, all the railroad crossings were blocked, despite a total lack of trains passing by, so I was forced to drive over a curb, into oncoming traffic, and back onto my side of the road to get around them. But I made it back to where I needed to be without being shot, so I'm fairly thrilled about that.
Once I got to Michigan, we went off-roading, almost flipped our Jeep, and then discovered a ginormous turkey living in an abandoned house. In other news, none of the convenience stores I went into were being held up. So that was a nice change from last time I was in Michigan.
Finally met Sami's husband, Bryan. I approve of her choice of a husband, but the dude totally failed in his mission to find me a skeeball ornament at Bronner's, which in case you didn't know, is the world's largest Christmas store.
WARNING: this is the most exciting bullet point on the list. Prepare yourself... I went skyfreakin'diving! Sami and Pablo have been planning to go skydiving for something like 6 years, and since I was going to be in Michigan, they decided to do it while I was there and take me with them. I had not exactly dreamed of going skydiving up to that point in my life, but I'm a big believer in trying everything once, so I jumped on the bandwagon. So glad I did! Aside from being strapped to a creeper of a skydive instructor, it was probably the most amazing thing I've ever done. The only moment I got scared was when I thought my nose might start bleeding from all the air rushing into it as I was falling. Also, I got a little concerned about the possibility of vomiting when the guy I was strapped to thought it would be fun to have us spin in really tight circles the entire time we were careening to the ground. But all in all it was ridiculously awesome and I will surely go again.
Got home from Michigan and left 40 hours later for México. I was supposed to work with a missions trip group, but they canceled at the last minute because of safety concerns, so that left me with the job of figuring out how to get myself from El Paso to Chihuahua. To make a long story short I took a bus across the border, tried to avoid the hassle of getting a visa, and then got unofficially deported as a result. So I made a second attempt at entering the country, this time with a visa, and made it, thanks to the assistance of an awesome taxi driver named Arturo.
This section should be filled with tales of all the exciting things I did in Mexico, but I barely even left my host family's house. So there's not much to tell.
On my trip home I ended up taking a bus to the border, jumping off in the middle of traffic, running across a 12-lane highway to the customs office where I turned in my visa, ran back across the 12-lane highway, tracked down my bus - which had kept going the whole time I was in customs - and jumped back on. Knowing in advance that I would have to do this is what made me skip the whole visa process initially. I just don't like running across 12-lane highways.
Went whitewater rafting with friends last weekend. Came home with an unbelievably sore booty and abs.

So there you have it, the severely abbreviated account of what I've been doing all summer. More to come in a couple weeks when I get back from Oregon and Washington.

¡Vamos México!

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Thu, 17 Jun 2010 15:36:00 +0000

Ok, today's the big day...the day my team plays in the World Cup! Now I know full well that Mexico already played their first game, and I was even in Mexico on the day of the grand event(!). But unfortunately a certain sour-puss with whom I was traveling decided that we should cross the border during the game so that we wouldn't have to wait in line as long. In fairness to said party pooper, the line was really short. But I felt that leaving the country during its biggest moment of 2010 so far made all the love and support of Mexico that we showed during our missions trip get thrown out the window when we walked out at the moment when they needed our greatest support. Thus I only got to watch 2 minutes of the game in a grocery store (and only those two minutes because I decided to forgo my normal hunt for Takis and Coke). Sad day. I think if we had shown more support, it would have buoyed the Mexican team to a 2-1 victory instead of just a 1-1 tie. But my hopes are high for today's game. I donned my Mexican jersey for the occasion, I've got a Mexican Coke to enjoy during the game, and I'm doing voice warm ups so I won't damage my vocal chords when it comes time to cheer.

Despite my excitement, though, I must say that I am completely disappointed with the quantity and quality of World Cup commercials that really make me proud to be an honorary Mexican. The commercials during the 2006 games made me want to paint myself from head to toe in green, white, and red paint and go into the streets and wave a Mexican flag while singing the Mexican national anthem. This year, though, all the commercials have inspired in me is the desire to come up with a cool victory dance for whenever I....well, whatever I do that deserves a victory dance. (In all fairness I am not watching the games in Mexico this time around (yet...give it time!), but I've watched all the games on Univisión, which is a Mexican network).

So in light of the lack of nationalistic commercials this year, and because my team takes the field today, I thought I'd bring out some of my favorite commercials from 2006 that made me proud of my team and my (fake) heritage. So here ya go:

Ok, your turn. Give me links to your favorite commercials that make you excited to be an American/Brazilian/whatever you are/pretend to be.

The trouble with men

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Wed, 02 Jun 2010 22:26:00 +0000

I'm not sure when or how this is happening, but it seems quite possible that I have recently - unbeknownst to me - started wearing steak-scented perfume, because the men-folk I come across all seem to be instantly drawn to me the second they meet me. I don't bring this up to brag; it's really more a matter of bewilderment. I'm still the same nerdy fashion-degenerate that I have always been, but lately I say a couple sentences to a guy and he can't get enough of me. I have been witness to said converstions, and I can assure you that they are neither interesting, nor flirtatious, nor filled with anything wittier than my normal stupid jokes which are really only funny to me. But, case in point, at a graduation party I went to a few days ago, I said hi to a guy there, told him how I knew the graduate, asked him how he knew her, then walked away. When I walked past him as I was leaving 20 minutes later, he stopped mid-sentence in the conversation he was having with someone else, and stared after me in silent reverence until I got out the door. Um...? My tactics for attracting men have not changed over the past 10 years or so, but the results - inexplicably - have. So the only conclusion I can come to is that A, I really have been wearing steak-scented perfume that men are instinctively drawn to, or B, a recent weight gain has made my rather ample boo-tay even more ample and, therefore, irresistable. Any other ideas of what I can attribute this to?

A second problem I have is that everyone I know (including about half my students) is either trying to set me up with some "really great" guy they know, or giving me advice on how to find a guy. My sister got married this weekend, and I can't even count the number of people that told me what I need to do so that I won't be the only child in my family that is still pathetic enough to be single. They all tried very hard to console me about being so lonely and pitiable, and I tried very hard to burst their bubble by telling them that I am actually fine with being single right now. But for some reason, it is completely incomprehensible to the general public that a 24-year-old girl could actually be content without a man.

But the good news is that if I do decide to overcome the pathetic state of singleness I currently find myself in, a wise relative informed me that all I need to do is start wearing more make-up, because the amount I normally wear is just not cutting it. (Online dating might not be a bad idea, either, she said). But given my current appeal to those of the male persuasion, I think applying an extra-heavy dose of make-up might result in me needing to carry a baseball bat around with me at all times to ward them off. So basically, life is tough all the way around.

In loving memory of Miguel the First

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Sat, 30 Jan 2010 04:08:00 +0000

Hello, old friends! It's been a while, eh? Well I'm back, but with no promises to make this a regular occurance. It seems like I had a lot more blog fodder when I was boring and unemployed and broke. Essentially I am still boring and broke, but I have dropped the un from my employment status, which leaves significantly less time to write about my random acts.

Aaaanyway, besides having a job that occupies 50-60 hours of my weeks, the only new thing in my life is a fancy, shiny, new car. The day after Christmas I went to a car dealership and accidentally purchased a new car. Brand new. In fact, when I first bought it, it was technically from the future, as it's a 2010 which I purchased in 2009. I felt classy and superior driving around a futuristic car, but it lost quite a bit of its allure when New Year's rolled around and I was stuck with a car that was now from the present. Bo-ring!

And back to that part about accidentally buying a new car...yeah, I know now that I should avoid watching commercials that use words like "Happy Honda Days" or "Toyotathon" or "Sale-abration" because, dangit, they will suck you right in. Somehow I went from just going to check things out at the dealership to having purchased a new car with all the bells and whistles. I'm not sure why I felt the need to spring for the car with the Bluetooth when I don't even talk on the phone, but somehow it happened. And somewhere in the flurry of papers being signed and negotiations being made, my sweet little car, Miguel, ended up being traded in as part of the deal. And that's where this post is really headed. I felt the need to publicly commend Miguel for all his years of faithful service and to give him a proper goodbye. So here we go...

It was the summer of my 19th year when, while living in Mexico, I called home only to be informed that my car had been given to my brother. So when I got home from Mexico, I had a week to find a new mode of transportation to get me to and from college. There were approximately 2 cars for sale that were in my price range, so I was forced to buy a Ford, which went against all the principles I had been taught growing up. And yet, that Ford that eventually became dubbed as Miguel proved to be pure magic. He never broke down, he never refused to start (except when the battery was dead...not his fault) and he had the best heating and cooling system I have ever experienced to date (and mind you, my new carro has a heavy-duty weather pack designed for drivers in extreme climates).

It's great having a brand new car. Fantastic, in fact. But I still can't help but miss sweet Miguel. Sure, he occasionally emitted odors reminiscent of butt, but he was my faithful companion for 5 long years and I am ashamed I had so little faith in him to begin with and that I let him go so easily. He really but the cherry in chariot. But the word on the street is that he may be whole-sale auctioned in Mexico, so chances are fair that I could see him again in the future. But for now I will just say thank you, Miguel. You were the best car I ever had. Um...besides that brand new one I accidentally bought to replace you. Erm...sorry about that.

Poster Child

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Mon, 20 Jul 2009 17:35:00 +0000

I think by now it's pretty obvious that I think México is the greatest. But what I haven't divulged up to this point is that the feeling is mutual. Over the past 3 years I've come to realize that México loves me so much that they've found look-alikes of me and plastered them all over the city of Chihuahua in an effort to sell milk and paint. If you think I'm making this up, just look at the pictures:

I have yet to see a dime of the royalties.

What happens in México

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Sat, 11 Jul 2009 21:18:00 +0000

I'm back from Mexico (again) and am (as usual) not overly excited to be back. But instead of telling you all the boring details of what I did the whole time I was there, I'll just give you a bulleted list of what I learned/what was interesting/weird.

Working with groups from Oregon makes my heart happy. Juan and Juanelle Furmano are the Ramses' of group leaders. Also, David-Dahveed is the Ramses of translating. If you don't know what it means to be the "Ramses" of a certain talent, you should probably watch Nacho Libre. But in the meantime, just know that it means they are awesome.
I met a guy named Cesar Palacio. If you translate that to English, his name's Ceasar Palace. It makes me wonder if his parents are compulsive gamblers.
If you sit on the ground below an open window, a hard plastic bottle may fall from said window and hit you on the knee, causing you to almost cry and have a huge purple bruise for a while. Just FYI.
I was hoping the owner of a successful chain of Mexican ice cream stores would fall in love with me while I was there. Instead a stray dog with an oozing face wound fell in love with me and wiped ooze on me whenever possible. The feeling was not mutual.
Even though my Mexican brother and sisters are ridiculously old now, I can still have tickle fights with them and lip synch to songs playing in restaurants and talk about super heroes and it's just like the good old days when they were young and tiny.
Mexicans don't have a tooth fairy. Instead they have a tooth rat. No wonder Mexican kids are so hard-core while Americans are whiney cry-babies; if we raised them to believe that a dirty rodent was coming to take away their teeth instead of some pansy fairy, it would be the first step in teaching them that life isn't always a bed of roses.
It's sad to me what American teenagers think poverty looks like. For the record, it's not small houses without air conditioning.
Lots of people think my Spanish accent sounds like someone's from Northern Mexico. Occasionally people think I'm from Spain. Someone I talked to on this trip guessed I was from France. Either that guy was crazy, or I need some serious help with my accent. I'm going to guess that guy was crazy since an hour later a lady I talked to was convinced I was born in Mexico (w00t! Score one for Emiliana Ruskavez, my Mexican alter-ego!).
Sometimes I forget how much I love Mexico because I guess I get used to hanging out with selfish Americans and eating bland food and speaking English. But last week I rembembered that Chihuahua is my favorite place on the planet and I had to muster up a lot of will power to keep myself from staying there. Next time I hope my will power fails me and I stay there forever.

My New Best Friend

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 21:15:00 +0000

I hate medicine. I would usually rather just be in pain than actually take medicine. But since Mexican air conditioners always make me cough like a chain-smoker for 3 weeks after I'm cooled by them, and that coughing had kept me awake till the wee small hours of the morning 3 nights in a row, last week I had to cave in and turn to medicine to help me out. I choked down some Robitussin Cough, but alas, it did nothing. Cough drops were also no match for my mighty cough. So I went to the store to see what they had to offer me. I decided on a bottle of Vick's Formula 44 since it was Berry Burst flavor, which sounded way better than the cherry and orange flavors other brands offered (seriously, orange?! It may have cured my cough, but it would have induced vomit in the process). I was still skeptical, though. But I was pleasantly surprised to find that not only did it taste really good (not that it will become my beverage of choice or anything, but as far as medicine goes, it's like the champagne of the cough syrup industry), I could also feel it starting to work as soon as I swallowed it. While I miss the ab workout that all those hours of coughing was giving me (I also recommend rolling paint on a ceiling. It nearly gave me a six pack in just one day), I was pretty darn excited to be able to sleep that night. I never thought I'd say it, but I think I'm in love with a cough medicine. Emily + Vick's Formula 44 Berry Burst Flavor = Love.

This new-found faith in modern medicine makes me wonder what other miracle drugs I'm missing out on. Suggestions?

Emily goes to Juarez

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 19:02:00 +0000

So, I went to Juarez a couple weeks ago for a missions trip with my church and I'm just getting around to blogging about it. To keep it from turning into a novel, I'll use bullet points for your reading pleasure:

First things first: the media has made a WAY bigger deal about the problems in Mexico than they should have. The swine flu never even reached the north of Mexico, so no, I don't have swine flu. Secondly, while I did come face-to-face with about 9 guys carrying semi-automatic weapons, they were neither drug lords nor mafia members, but military-police, who happen to be really nice unless you are shooting at them. I've never met a gun-toting Mexican soldier that I didn't like.
I've only been going to this church for 4 months, so before we left I only knew 2 people on the trip. That was weird, but turned out to be a really great way to get to know a lot of people really well.
This was the first time in 6 years that I've been on a missions trip as a team member instead of a missions organization staff member, so it was kind of tough not wearing the pants in the relationship. Thus I was not allowed to go buy myself popsicles and Mexican Coke whenever my heart desired (alas, I only got to drink ONE bottle of Coke and had zero popsicles. I almost feel like the whole trip was a waste). Also, I secretly broke the rules every day by brushing my teeth using tap water instead of bottled water. Say what you will about the water in Mexico, but I've used it to brush my teeth about 400 times and I still have all my teeth intact and do not have a chronic case of the squirts. But if you want to be a pansy and use bottled water for teeth-brushing, go ahead. I will just sit here and laugh at you.
We spent most of the week tearing down one building and constructing the frame of another. I pulled approximately 50,000 nails from the demolished building, but more importantly, I ran the jack-hammer to tear up the building's floor. Fo' reals! I think I know now what it feels like to have a seizure.
In the afternoons we did a VBS at the church we were working with. This gave me a chance to flex my Spanish muscles, which, for the record, have severly atrophied over the past year. But since I still spoke 95% more Spanish that the other people on my team, I managed to win over some new amigos. One of them even taught me a secret handshake that involves jazz hands at the end! This is why I love Mexican kids.
Our last day there we put a roof on the building we'd built the frame for. While roof-building in general has automatic hazards that go along with it, high winds meant that I literally almost got decapitated 3 times by the raw edges of sheet metal that was being carried through the air toward my head at high speeds. It appears that God has a bigger purpose for my life than decapitaion, though, because all I ended up with was a tiny cut on my arm.
On my last night in Juarez I was serenaded to sleep by the neighbors' ranchera music, which flowed from the killah sound system in the back of their car. That is what Mexican culture is all about and it makes me want to cry for joy a little.

So going to Juarez was cool, but it was really just my warm-up for going to Chihuahua (just three more days! Hurrah!). While I love México in general, there is nothing like my adopeted home town, filled with all my friends and my Mexican family and the freedom to buy myself Coke and tacos whenever I want and brush my teeth using tap water without getting dirty looks implying that my stomach is being invaded by amoebas. So try and enjoy America and Independence Day and all that other jazz while I'm gone, my fellow Americans, and I will enjoy all the splendors that Mexico and a rad group of Oregonians have to offer me.

Dance Party!

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Tue, 02 Jun 2009 19:04:00 +0000

This guy is my hero! If you watch really close at 2:28 you'll see a never-nude join in (Lori, that's for you!).

I recently did my own rendition of the Thriller dance at a bowling alley in the hopes that the same thing would happen, but alas, my dancing only produced laughter and no spontaneous dance party ensued. Maybe I should wear hot pants next time.

Health Concerns

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Thu, 28 May 2009 22:06:00 +0000

I volunteer at a radio station one day a week. Mostly because my friend Brandy who works there conned me into thinking it would be a really cool internship. Also because I like doing stuff besides sitting around my house watching TV. But mostly because it allows me to tell people that I work in the music biz now and I can brag about talking on the phone with small-time celebrities like Jeff Connell and Wally from Total Axxess (Seriously. I totally get to answer their calls and then transfer them to the head honchos at the corporate offices).

Yesterday when I arrived at my "job" in the music industry, everyone reacted to me like I had the bubonic plague. As it turns out, one of the students at the school I subbed at a couple weeks ago was confirmed as having the swine flu and, since subs get breathed on a lot by their students, they all assumed that I was now a carrier. For those of you concerned for my well-being, please save your worry for the next month when I will be traveling to various parts of Mexico where I have every intention of going about business as usual there (meaning kissing pigs with the hopes of winning them for Jesus. It's something I learned about in my missionary training school called "Flirt to Convert". Very effective).

But I digress. What I'm really concerned about more than swine flu is what I just saw in a public service announcement which was no doubt made by the CDC or some other legitimate source. See for yourself:

Pretty scary stuff.

The End of an Era

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Fri, 15 May 2009 21:55:00 +0000

Normally I'm not a big fan of guessing games, but I'm not quite feeling like myself today, so here we go anyway:

Guess who was recently named Colorado Springs' newest Spanish teacher? Eh? Eh? That's right: ME!!! Mama finally found herself a job! (And by mama I mean me, in case you were wondering). Yessiree, come August I will be a full-fledged high-school Spanish teacher. Thanks to all of you who said a prayer or 2 (or 50) for me over the past year and for all your encouragement. You can now rest a little easier knowing you will no longer have to read blog posts filled with complaints about unemployment. Now they will instead be filled with complaints about how annoying rich kids in the private school system are (I kid, I kid...probably).

Congratulatory hugs and high fives will gladly be accepted.

If I only had a shred of musical talent...

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Sat, 09 May 2009 17:35:00 +0000

Now I'm not a big Taylor Swift fan, but this arrangement, mashed together with Viva la Vida, is UH-mazing!

Makes me wish I had stuck with one of the 5 instruments I've (sort of) played over the past 15 years.

D#*%, It Feels Good to Be a Mexican

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Tue, 05 May 2009 16:12:00 +0000

So, today is cinco de mayo. And in case you need the record set straight for you, that is not Spanish for "Mexican Independence Day". Oh no, my friends. Today is the anniversary of the day the Mexicans defeated the French. Although I've never been in Mexico on el cinco de mayo, I've been told that it is barely celebrated there (probably because it's not really that great a feat to beat the French). But because today is the one day of the year when Americans choose to recognize the awesomeness of México, I feel compelled to put in my two cents and share my own view of Mexicans. And nothing says it better than this piece of paper which I may or may not have taken from a prominent art museum in the downtown Denver area:

Clearly, whoever wrote this knew what it means to be a Mexican Sexican. While I felt a little bad about taking it from the museum, I'm pretty sure that I have gotten way more enjoyment out of it that the average snobbish art-museum patron would have. And here's hoping that you will, too. ¡Que vivan los mexicanos!

Positive Post Tuesday: David

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 22:06:00 +0000

Today is David-Dahveed's birthday, and in light of the fact that he's one of my favorite people, he is getting his very own post. The problem with David is that he never believes anything I say, but in my 1000th attempt to convince him of his awesomeness, I'll try this again.

David is one of the nicest, funniest guys you'll ever meet (and ladies, he's available!). Every time I go to Mexico he drives me all over the place, puts up with all my other friends (who he doesn't like), and takes me to get ice cream and gorditas and tacos. In fact, on one of our outings to one of Chihuahua's more questionable taco carts, David and his friend taught me the proper way to eat a taco. I will forever be indebted to them for that wealth of knowledge. Also, last summer David gave up an entire week of his life to translate for a group of Oregonians and totally saved our butts since I was too nervous to translate (and also puking up my guts and getting punched in the stomach by a doctor for half the week). David is such a quality guy and I'm so glad that he decided to randomly show up at our English school every week when I taught there so that we could become friends.

So happy birthday, David! I wish I could be in Chihuahua to buy you some Super Coldy and treat you as well and make you laugh as much as you always do for me. So remind me in July when I'm there and I will do it then. Happy birthday!

The Most Unfortunate of Fortune Cookies

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Fri, 24 Apr 2009 22:25:00 +0000

Once upon a time, my pal Emily and I decided that we would someday open a fortune cookie factory. I'm not sure what the reasoning was, but given my ongoing state as an under-employed blob of wasted potential, I thought I'd try my hand at making some cookies to see if the factory idea might work out after all. So I slaved over a hot oven for 2 hours (shaping them is a pain in the rumpelstiltsken!). Here's how they turned out:

Erp! If you think they look bad, try smelling my kitchen or tasting the finished product. Blech!While the fortunes inside are sufficiently witty (all written by yours truly!), the overall presentation and taste just won't sell. So I guess I'll find another dream to pursue in lieu of the fortune-cookie tycoon dream I had going.

There she goes, off to her room to write that hit song, "Alone in My Principles"

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Fri, 17 Apr 2009 02:32:00 +0000

There is a certain set of principles by which I unswervingly live my life. It's just who I am. One of these rules is that I do not wash my car between the months of September and May. In Colorado, there is just no point since there will inevitably be a snowstorm that will coat my car in filth within days of being cleaned. I have faced persecution for this. It hasn't been easy. But this week, I felt affirmed in my car-wash abstinence campaign.

My car has been frosted in muddy crud for months. So much so that I was temped to give in 3 weeks before the beginning of permissable car-washing season. But I stood strong (mostly because I'm too poor to afford a fancy-schmancy automated car wash and it's still too cold out to wash it myself). But then on Sunday, a [minor] Easter miracle occured (not to downplay Christ's resurrection or anything. Thanks for being my Savior, Jesus! Love you!). All morning and into the afternoon, big, wet snowflakes covered my car and when I awoke on Monday morning, the snow that had slid/melted off my car left it cleaner than I've seen it in months (or maybe more like a year-and-a-half, which was the last time I actually had it washed. I had a coupon!). It gave me the strength I needed to hold on to my principles and wait till May to do the real deal. But come May I will be armed with a fancy, double-texured sponge which will wash away a multitude of bug carcasses and mud splatters that the snow didn't quite get to.

Hearts!

Emily

There might be hope for me yet...

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 23:01:00 +0000

I have never been more thankful for the Internet than I am right now. Why? Because it introduced me to this devotional, which I'm pretty sure is the best book written in the past 1000 years or so:

And just in case the adoring looks of the people surrounding that sweatshirt-clad hunk are not enough to convince you of the awe-inspiring powers this book will endow you with, just read some of the reviews from Amazon.com:

For years, I struggled with meager coolness until I read this book. Now with my
new-found knowledge and my "I am awesome" shirt, all the ladies want to get with
me. It may look like they're just laughing and pointing, but I know that they
truly find me irresistible. Since I've modeled my hair and clothes from the book
cover, everyone thinks I'm Zack from Saved by the Bell. It just doesn't get
anymore awesome than that. Oh yeah.

And another one:

I bought this book for two of my friends. They were pretty cool, but not
awesome. They're both awesome now.
I shall be purchasing the book post haste!

If I knew then what I know now...

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 23:01:00 +0000

Sometimes I think way too much for my own good. The last couple days I've been thinking about mistakes I've made and what I could have done to avoid them in the first place. And here's the conclusion I've come to:

If I knew then what I know now, I would have realized that cane sugar-sweetened beverages lead to heart problems 75% of the time.

It's profound, I know. Almost as profound as when my mom told me that if she knew then what she knows now, she'd have kept the cat and gotten rid of the husband (that sounds pretty horrible out of context, but if you really knew the cat and the husband, it would make perfect sense).

Ok, now it's your turn. Impart your wisdom on me. If you knew then what you know now... ??? (that's your cue to fill in the blank). Ready? Set? Go!

P.S. Just for the record, that statistic about sugar and heart problems is in no way scientific. And it was more metaphorical than literal. If I cared about nutrition, I would eat vegetables instead of using them as whistles.

Emily vs. the 21st Century

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 04:27:00 +0000

Technology and I have never been on very good terms. It's not that I don't want to be. It's just that whenever one of us wants to reach out to the other, the other is unwilling to reciprocate. Or sometimes I just don't have what it takes to afford a mistress (would master be a better word here? I don't want you thinking I'm into ladies) that demands as much time and money as technology does. Case in point: A few years ago I handed over a large sum of money to the fine people at Circuit City and in exchange they gave me a shiny new laptop. Despite having paid good money for virus protection, ol' lappy soaked up viruses like a sponge.

On Saturday I decided to take another leap into the abyss of modern technology: I bought an iPod. I should have known it wouldn't end well. Instead of iTunes converting all my .wma files automatically, I have spent the last 3 days trying to get all my music converted into a format that iTunes will accept, and it's been no small task. I figured out that if I copy about 150 songs at a time to an SD card and then tell iTunes to convert that folder of music, it will do it. It just takes about an hour or so per batch. I am trying to place blame where blame is due, and I'm sure the problem lies in my virus-riddled laptop (which cannot seem to accomplish as much in one hour as a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest could). But no matter where the blame lies, I'm about to give up on technology for good. Maybe I'll go live in a cave for the rest of my days.

Random Facts of Emily, Part 3

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Fri, 06 Mar 2009 23:09:00 +0000

It's been a while since I've done one of these, so I thought I'd bring back another fascinating edition of Random Facts of Emily. In this thrilling third installment, I will enlighten you as to my eating habits.

Some people like to skip all over their plate when they eat, taking a couple bites of one food, moving on to something else, and eventually coming back. I, on the other hand, start on one kind of food and move on to another item only once I have finished the first. For some reason this seems to really bother people, but alas, it's what I've been doing as long as I can remember and I'm not about to change my ways now.

But on top of my one-food-at-a-time policy, I also carefully prioritize what I’ll eat first. When it comes to food prioritization, there are basically two schools of thought. The first is a practice that I can only imagine Christians use. These prioritizers eat the tastiest foods first and leave the nasty stuff for the end, probably with the hopes that Jesus will come back before they get to the vegetables and other gross stuff, allowing them to spend their last moments on earth eating their dessert or their juicy steak. I can’t blame them for that, but I think that since people have been waiting for Jesus to return for 2000 years and he still hasn’t, it might be a good idea to switch around their food prioritization.

Grossest-to-tastiest is the school of food prioritization that I personally subscribe to. As soon as my plate is filled, I quickly rank my foods from grossest to yummiest and start shoveling in the gross stuff first to get it out of the way. As I work my way up to the tastier foods, the unpleasant tastes become a distant memory as my palate is instead covered by the more delicious items. The meal culminates with the most tasty item of all, leaving me with a good aftertaste instead of the lingering taste of green beans or something else gaggy.

Now maybe as a Christian I should be concentrating more on all those verses that say to live my life as if Christ were coming at any moment, and therefore I should assume that I won't get a chance to finish my Ben & Jerry's unless I eat it NOW. But as much as I want to be ready, I don’t think I will apply my preparations to the culinary aspect of my life. If Jesus comes back mid-meal, I will probably not be all that concerned about the lingering taste of asparagus in my mouth or the slice of pie that I didn't get to eat. So I'm sticking with my own way of eating.

Postive Post Tuesday: Andy

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 04:09:00 +0000

I don't know if it's a requirement for girls to secretly think their older brothers are the coolest guys ever, but since I was about 13 I've thought mine was. And since today is a momentous occasion and Andy is joining the Air Force and leaving for boot camp, I figure now is as good a time as ever to go public with my admiration.

When I got over my junior-high aspirations of becoming a cheerleader and going out with the kid who was voted as having the best hair in the 8th grade (is this conjuring up an Arrested Development reference for anyone else? Come on, don't be shy!), Andy became my new reference point for finding good music, cool thrift-store clothes, and correct terminology for shows (which, up to that point, I had (like a big lamewad) been referring to as concerts). If it weren't for Andy I would probably still think that Avalon was the best band out there. Even though a lot has changed between us, I still think my brother is one of the coolest, most hilarious people ever, on top of being one of the smartest and most talented. To be honest, I'm a little bit bitter that he hogged the majority of the musical and artistic abilities up for grabs in the gene pool (those jerk first-born kids!), but I just can't make myself stay mad at him. So even though you won't read this for at least another couple of months, Andy, I'm really proud of you and glad to be your sister. I love you!

Welcome (back) to plan B

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Sat, 28 Feb 2009 17:10:00 +0000

Four years ago right now, I was taking my first Spanish class ever. Four days ago I was teaching 100 high schoolers how to use direct object pronouns and form adverbs in Spanish. That very fact is just one of the reasons I sometimes questioned the sanity of the principal who hired me to teach in his school for an entire two months. It's like hiring a math teacher who only learned to count 4 years ago. But the weird thing is, it worked anyway. My Spanish 2 students are owning the imperfect tense. And my 4 Spanish 1 students who actually stopped goofing off long enough to listen to what I had to say to them are tearing up their conjugations and pronouns and adjectives. It's been a really great/frustrating/educational 2 months, but I'm amazed and thankful that a school finally took a chance on me and that there's a God who holds me by my right hand and gives me words to speak (half the time in Spanish) when, on my own, I'm completely incapable.

So now it's back to the same ol' same ol' of waiting for schools to call me to sub for them, and, in the meantime, applying for teaching jobs for next year. And if I play my cards right I might even get to do an internship at a radio station and go to Mexico once or twice or maybe even 4 times. So all that goes to say, I'm going to try to overcome this here blog's current ghost-town reputation, and hopefully find some more interesting topics to blog about than chess clubs (which, by the way, ended up being one of my favorite parts of the week) and various aspects of Spanish grammar (unless you just want me to, because I really have a thing for Spanish grammar).

Hearts,
Emily

And they say money can't buy you happiness

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Tue, 10 Feb 2009 00:04:00 +0000

I have a tradition of buying myself something long lusted-after when I get the first paycheck from a new job. When I got my first job when I was 16, my big purchase was a bottle of silver chrome nail polish. Looking back that seems like a pretty weird thing to make a big deal of buying, but since I owed my next 13 paychecks to my mom and was still at the age where silver nail polish was the bomb, that nail polish was like Christmas come early.

This time, though, I've moved up to bigger and better things. When I got my first paycheck from teaching, I bought the only logical thing that one would buy when they are suddenly bestowed with mass amounts of dollars in their checking account. Any guesses? I'll give you a hint:

Oh yes, my friends, I bought the complete series of Full House, which just happens to be probably the best show ever made. Now I can feast my eyes on all the smokin'-hot Jesse Katsopolis I can handle and get my groove on to the musical stylings of Jesse and the Rippers. Honestly, it's like buying boxed happiness. I almost cried for joy when I finally got to tear open the package, pop it in the DVD player and hear that cheesey theme song.

So next time you're feeling up to a Full House marathon, you know who to call.

Who needs a teaching credential when you've got the Internet?*

noreply@blogger.com (Emily) — Thu, 05 Feb 2009 00:19:00 +0000

In the few weeks that I've been teaching Spanish, I've realized that the easier the grammar concepts, the harder they are to teach. I never expected that it would be a breeze to teach things like the imperfect tense, which doesn't even exist in English, but really, really hard to teach simple things like possessive adjectives. But it is. Especially when 75% of the kids in my Spanish 1 classes talk non-stop and have shot down every one of my attempts to get them to be quiet.

So the past couple weeks I've been trying to teach them how to use the verb gustar, which, I'll admit is not an easy thing to figure out. And day after day I try and explain it in a different way that will make more sense and every day I fail. But today I finally got around to googling "how to teach gustar" and found the best explanation I've ever seen. So I used the information that my dear friend Google gave me (adding, of course, a little Emily-esque razzle-dazzle (I tend to dance a little and spit when I get really pumped about certain aspects of Spanish grammar)) and all around the room I saw little light bulbs turning on above kids' heads. It was amazing! So thank you, Internet! I will now use you for all my teaching dilemmas.

*In answer to the question "who needs a teaching credential when you've got the Internet?", the answer is me. I can teach grammar till the end of time as long as I've got students who are disciplined enough to listen and do the work (and if I have Google to bail me out when I get stuck). But when I've got approximately 47 kids who think that "Spanish class" is Spanish for "social hour" and who are rude and throw things at each other and start singing or burping as loud as they can, I pretty much have no idea what to do. So if you want to contribute to the "Send Emily Back to School to Learn How To Be a Successful Teacher Who Actually Knows How to Manage a Classroom" fund, checks and money orders can be sent to my home.