I walk in the air, between the rain, through myself and back again. Where? I don't know.

This by request

Rain rapes the valley
The river's belly grows large
She gives birth to floods

posted by Emma @ Saturday, February 28, 2004 0 comments

Good morning, flood zone

No, the picture isn't to augment the post; it's to remind all depressed Napans *cough*weatherwimps*cough* that it's worth the rain. See, it's going to look like that again soon. Already the hills are a gorgeous green. Hang in there. I happen to like the weather, but I won't depress you even further by reveling in the rain.

Yeah, it's raining. Hard. Not at the moment, granted, but in general... I drove by the river on the way to school (like I always do, hee hee) and actually composed a quick haiku in honor of her present swollen state. I won't post it here and make you read it, though. I have some mercy, and haiku really isn't my thing. I have no way of knowing if it's good, bad, or horrible.

Stay dry. I'm wearing flip-flops and a large jacket, but that doesn't mean you have to.

(Quittie, I can't believe you forged a post on my tagboard. *grins* Keep it up and I'll link your journal, and then what? Muwahahah.)

posted by Emma @ Thursday, February 26, 2004 0 comments

I miss my brothers. It hurts.

So my mother is in Texas, and I didn't even know it. Anyway, my aunt was talking to my brothers, and David Michal, the youngest, wanted her to tell me that he's worried about me. "She works on the play until eleven at night?" My aunt had to tell him that I did. She didn't tell him how late I've been coming home, thank God. He's very concerned.

I think I'll call them tomorrow and touch bases. I miss them terribly. They were such a vital part of my life for so long that I almost can't believe I can go a whole week without seeing them. I talk about them to people who will listen. Lately I've been talking to Ben about the things my brothers and I used to do... They're the only thing I miss about my childhood. If I could recapture the summers I spent with them... But I can't. I may never be that close to them again (though I certainly hope I will be), and the thought brings tears to my eyes.

Yeah, I have to call tomorrow. Maybe they can come see the show, too. *sighs*

posted by Emma @ Wednesday, February 25, 2004 0 comments

*sigh*

So I'm sitting up here in the booth, wasting time on the computer while I wait for Magic Theatre rehearsal to start, and I look out the window...

Mike was standing on top of the scaffolding. That in itself is not alarming. The scaffolding was shaking. That in itself is not alarming. The scaffolding was on a slant; half was up on the platforms and half was down on the stage. That in itself is not alarming. There was no one bracing the scaffolding. That in itself is not alarming. The wheels weren't locked. That in itself....

BUT ADD IT ALL TOGETHER!

And I ran down the stairs, locked the wheels, gave him a good tongue-lashing, secured his solemn word that he wouldn't do that again... And at the end, he says "It's not like I haven't fallen off this thing before."

God help us.

posted by Emma @ Wednesday, February 25, 2004 0 comments

GENERAL ANNOUNCEMENT

Life's good. Don't be thrown off by my venting and tantrums. I needed to do that, and it was an isolated event.

I'm having a good time, working really hard, learning a lot.... Yeah, life's awesome. *grins* I don't know why the image feels like it goes with how I feel, but it does. Man, I need to go swimming or something. I've been daydreaming about swimming in the ocean, letting myself sink to the bottom of the pool, lakes... This water baby is almost willing to give up the rain for a little warmth. Funny, I've never ever EVER wanted summer before. That's interesting.

posted by Emma @ Tuesday, February 24, 2004 0 comments

Well, so it comes back down. Again.

And I don't really know how to stay mad for long at people who haven't damaged me directly. I don't know why that is... Often I don't even stay angry at those who have hurt me.

This time, I wasn't directly damaged. I was furious, though, at the THOUGHT of what had gone down because of how I am, because of what it would have meant to ME. Truly, no harm had been done me, and it is quite likely that no harm will ever come to me at those hands. It's just doubtful.

Do I approve? No. But you're sorry. Whether or not it's true, and whether or not I should, I believe what you told me yesterday. I believe what I saw, heard, felt, and understood. Our relationship is unchanged, though my understanding of you has shifted. Our "connection" is what it was, I should imagine, but it's just one more thing to add to my database concerning you. My schema was altered. My brain has been stretched. I'm still changing, luckily for you...

posted by Emma @ Tuesday, February 24, 2004 0 comments

Great.

Just when I thought I had my temper under control... I remember why I try so hard to never let it get the best of me. My temper is icy cold. Rage. Cold rage. It is calculating and quiet after the first few moments of outraged screaming. After that, it's the frosty edge of a knife. No attachment. No memory of one. It scares me on some surface level, but deep inside, it's calm, cold, and furious. Violent and cold.

No wonder I always tell people I have a temper. No one believes it (sure, she yells and storms about) but the thing is, when I've truly lost my temper... you can't see it. It's invisible. You can only feel it if you're used to me being warm. If you're used to me being warm, the chill is unmistakable.

*sighs* Icy cold. So sad.

posted by Emma @ Saturday, February 21, 2004 0 comments

Odd

The funny thing is, you know, that you probably can't see a thing wrong with what you did.

Odd.

Another funny thing is that I'm not hurt at all. I'm just terribly sad. I'm an idiot, and every time I forget that, something happens to remind me. Harshly. That I'm an idiot.

Odd.

My believing in me had nothing to do with you or them, and I realize that now. It ought to shatter everything you said about me, but it doesn't. I believe ME, not YOU, and I don't care at all what you say one way or the other.

Odd.

I remember why I NEVER go against my gut instinct. I'm sorry that I did... But I did.

Odd.

Friendship is a tricky thing. It's full of monsters. When the monster lives in your own head... it's....

Odd.

If you tilt your head and squint, the drawing of the face up at the top of this post becomes a word... Clear and unmistakable. "Liar." Wow. That's how I felt tonight. I turned my head and WHAM it all became crystal clear. Interesting. And totally odd. I think they call this shock, when you don't feel. Yeah. Shock. I find it hard to fathom that I was afraid of hurting you, when you probably feel no real attachment to me at all. I forget that, that people can lie about the most basic things.

Elli, I had to go to bed. My aunt's upset that I was late, etc. We're the most unlikely of friends, in some ways, but I'm so glad we CONNECTED. Keep me informed... I'm praying for your grandma... It IS possible to change.... Time heals all wounds... Backstabbers get stabbed in the back... Duplicity is a two-mouthed snake... one mouth will bite you back... Bitterness kills, so avoid it... "A man curses because he does not have the words to say what he means." Patience. Things will become clear. You'll become. You're so unbelievably young... yet so old for your age.... Yeah, well. I gotta jet. Don't let any of them keep you down. If you succeed, tell me how. I need to sleep tonight...

"Somebody ought to take you in
Try to make you love again
Try to make you like the way they feel
When they're under your skin
Never once did you think that they would lie
When they're holding you
You wonder why they haven't called
When they said they'd call you
You'll start to wonder if you're ever gonna make it by
You'll start to think you were born blind"

posted by Emma @ Saturday, February 21, 2004 0 comments

It's the little things...

So I lent Mike Y a pen; one of those non-descript, company promo pens. I wouldn't have cared if I never saw it again. In any case, I had something to do, so I left the theatre, and when I came back, my pen was lying on the desk in the lobby, a note written on a napkin tucked underneath.

"THANKS 4 THE PEN EMMA"

I have the note sitting here on my desk. For some reason, it impacted me. Made my day, even though it really was a good day. I don't know, the fact that someone would take the time to do something they didn't need to do, just to show me they appreciated something silly....

Mike, that was great. You're entirely welcome.

posted by Emma @ Friday, February 20, 2004 0 comments

"Shipwrecked," Jars of Clay

He put in the bottle and he threw it out to sea
But the tide would not surrender and it floated to the beach
So the message of apology his love would never see
He walked around that island all shipwrecked and heavy
The scars of early childhood still showing on the skin
Necessary enemies so healing could begin
From the message of apology his heart might soon break free
For now he walks that island all shipwrecked and ready
Low beyond horizon lines across the salty sea
A boat without a captain makes it way to some city
He prays that it would sail its course to lover or to kin
And fan a thirst for searching and finding him again
Finding him again
Finding him again

posted by Emma @ Thursday, February 19, 2004 0 comments

Wow. Trenchy, eh?

I just read YQJ's blog (no, don't go looking for the link.... there isn't one), and he was talking about how much he likes/recommends trenchcoats. *laughs*

Timing is everything, eh?

posted by Emma @ Wednesday, February 18, 2004 0 comments

Good Morning, Bloggies!

Yeah, so I haven't been posting much. I could, but it would all relate back to the theatre, or people connected to the theatre, and that would just drive you all crazy, I imagine. (Sarah excluded, but I promise to see you on the weekends and deliver my exhaustive accounts, kay?)

For everyone who knows what I'm talking about, I GOT THE COAT!!!!!!!!! MUWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! For everyone who doesn't, look to see me dressed in the best coat you've ever seen. (Justin, shush. I know YOU don't think it's the best thing ever, but this from the guy who looks more like a pirate than a student on a daily basis. Yes, I do approve, but I had to say it. *laughs*) It fits me perfectly, and even seems to be made for the way I walk. It's just lovely. It's a camel-colored suede trench from the sixties. Vintage. It hangs exactly one inch above the ground. It swings daringly. It skims my shape just perfectly. It snaps up the front in a non-obtrusive way... It's my first real trench, and I couldn't have imagined a better one. *shivers* oooh, I love clothing.

Hmm. Lessee. I think that's about it for PSAs. Oh, yeah, Richard called Friday rehearsal, so I won't be at youth service. You guys know I don't like it any more than you do, and in fact, I bet I like it even less. Fridays are what gets me through the rest of the week. *groans* I'm going to miss you guys so badly. Being with you once a week just ... Bah. It's tough, isn't it? We're not used to it. We're used to seeing each other constantly. It's funny... I thought I'd like a little space from all of you (no offense, and you know it), but now I find it's not true. When I'm back with you, there's a symmetry to our interactions that is truly unique. Someone who's known me since I was born, or since they were born, is not going to treat me the same as someone who met me last year. In some ways, that's my saving grace, and in other ways, it tires me out. I don't like having to establish my identity all the time. It's refreshing to enter a space where my identity has been decided for me, almost, at least among the adults. I've worked against that my whole life, but now.... Eh. I'm who I am, and they'll see what they wish to see of it. There's a release to that.

Yeah, I'm rambling, but it's my space to ramble. If you miss me half as much as I miss you, give me a ring, okay?

"If I hurt you, then I hate myself
I don't want to hate myself
Don't want to hurt you
...
If you only knew how much I love you"

posted by Emma @ Wednesday, February 18, 2004 0 comments

Gods, Muses, Poetry and Divine Inspiration

"This magnet attracts iron rings, and not only that, but puts the same power into the iron rings, so that they can do the same as the stone does; they attract other rings, so that sometimes there is a whole long string of these rings hanging together, and all depend for their power on that one stone. So the Muse not only inspires people herself, but through these inspired ones others are inspired and dangle in a string."

"For the poet is an airy thing, a winged and holy thing; and he cannot make poetry unless he becomes inspired and goes out of his senses and no mind is left in him; so long as he keeps possession of this, no man is able to make poetry ... therefore, the only poetry that each one can make is what the Muse has pushed him to make, one ecstatic odes, one hymns of praise, one songs for dance or pantomime, one epic, one satiric iambic, in every other kind each one of them is a failure. For not by art do they speak these things, but by divine power..."

"Here most of all do I think God has shown us, beyond all dispute, that these beautiful poems are not human, not made by man, but divine and made by God; and the poets are nothing but the gods' interpreters, possessed each by whatever god it may be. Just to prove this, God purposely sang the most beautiful of songs through the meanest of poets. Don't you think I speak the truth...?"

--Great Dialogues of Plato, excerpts taken from "Ion"--
Translated by W. H. D. Rouse

Thank you to everyone who inspires me beyond my natural capabilities. You mean more than even words can say.

posted by Emma @ Monday, February 16, 2004 0 comments

Bitten

I've got a spider bite on my leg. Happened while I was away from home, fortunately... eases my neurotic mind a bit. God, I hate spiders. I believe this is the first time I've ever been bitten, and if it isn't, it's the first time it's ever bothered me. This thing is like an ugly, red, oversized, terribly itchy mosquito bite.

I see a spider, it dies. None of this nice, carry the thing outside business. Most life forms I'm careful with, but spiders... no. If they're inside, that is. If they're outside, I figure it's their turf as much as it is mine, and if they don't hurt me, I don't hurt them. They just need to stay outside, is all. *shudders*

posted by Emma @ Monday, February 16, 2004 0 comments

The puzzle of my social network

It's amazing how people are falling into place in my life. I'm almost comfortable, which should be my warning that something is going to happen, but for now, I'm good. Almost content.

Today I hung out with Sarah, Aunt Sarah, and Ben. First we hung curtain rods, did laundry, oh... etc, etc.... Then Sarah, Ben and I went out to dinner, bummed around downtown... Then we came back to my house and hung out until .......... We didn't. Then we took Ben home.

My only point is that it was so FUN, relaxed, quiet... Comfortable. It's that quiet space where words fade, facial expressions carry full weight, and small goals are met and surpassed. For example, we secured Don Perico's as the location for "Marcel and His Mexican Food," the short we're doing for the film festival. We've started the drama club. Ah...... it's great.

I hope you all had good days, and if you didn't, I hope tomorrow is better.

posted by Emma @ Saturday, February 14, 2004 0 comments

Theatre trouble

So today we try and regain our order in the theatre. Great. I have to go down after this and run the guidelines by Jan, then I have to write them down so she can present them. Lovely. *sighs* But it will be worth it. It will be.

We're finally in full swing for production. *grins* Here we go. This weekend is my last weekend to breathe at all, so I plan to take full advantage of it. I'm either going to completely veg or go crazy and not be home at all.

We'll see.

(Second to "why?" I think "We'll see" is my favorite thing to say.)

posted by Emma @ Thursday, February 12, 2004 0 comments

Inextricably Connected

"Because," he said, "I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you--especially when you are near me, as now; it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame."

posted by Emma @ Thursday, February 12, 2004 0 comments

"These Ordinary Days," Jars of Clay

Not much for conversation
I still find need to pray
'Cause sometimes I get tired of walking through these ordinary days
If nothing else I get to see you
Even if we never speak
The harm of words is sometimes we don't quite know what they really mean
I don't know where
I don't know how
I don't know why
But your love can make these things better
So let me lay down in this field, and stare up at the sky
I hope the days and clouds turn into something as they pass us by
And maybe you could settle for a skyline faded blue
I hope that you might settle for this love I have for you
I don't know where
I don't know how
I don't know why
But your love can make these things better
Your love can make these things better
Your love can make these things better
Your love can make these things better

posted by Emma @ Wednesday, February 11, 2004 0 comments

Everyone listens, but...

It's so interesting to desperately need a confidante... find several... and not tell them anything. I'm going through this phase where I just plain don't talk about what's going on with me. I write a few poems that feel like I'm writing with my own blood (recently leeched from my wrists) which almost no one sees....... And the rest of the time, I smile.

"You okay?"

*nod* "Mm-hmm!"

"Okay."

*blank smile*

Oh, the joys of being an idiot. But it's none of your business, it's not your concern, it's not your problem, it's MINE and I'm not sharing. It's odd to hate what I'm doing and yet refuse to behave differently. There's a confidante. One. And this one is never within my reach. *scowls*

posted by Emma @ Tuesday, February 10, 2004 0 comments

My Friend Doubt

I'm the pretty one now
(lies)
The nice one
(lies)
The talented one with a good head on her shoulders
(lies)
And it just makes me sick
All the rifts in my head, the ones that label me as "unhealthy"
The ones that predispose me to all kinds of trouble
The ones that shake my world almost every day with some form of self-doubt
I'm so sorry I can't see myself clearly
I'm so sorry I can't see you, either
I'm sorry I don't understand this world and
I'm sorry I don't believe a thing you say
I'm sorry
I stand, restless, wanting my space from all of you
But never wanting to be alone
I snap every now and then, just to let out my temper for some excercise
But I feel so badly every time I do that most of the time I don't
Every word that falls from your mouth I catch and treasure
But I love them like a small child loves colored glass
"Look, a ruby!"
And everyone nods and smiles indulgently
And to the child, there's no difference
Until she needs to exchange it for something real
And finds that her treasure is a fragile, worthless imitation
Of something priceless
Doubt is becoming my friend
Something I thought I'd never say
I'm glad she sits on my shoulder
Tiny hands clinging to my neck
Whispering in my ear, "Don't believe it. Not about you, not from them, not about us, not from him."
She's probably right, my friend doubt
And if I ever learn to do what she says
...
What then?
Anything?

posted by Emma @ Monday, February 09, 2004 0 comments

My Role Model

Scheherazade. Told stories to save her life... Soothed her husband's madness.... Well, if you know the story, you get it. If you don't, I can't tell you enough. Go read/watch/listen to the story.

posted by Emma @ Monday, February 09, 2004 0 comments

Blowing Bubbles

Every once in a while, it hits me that for three hours once a week, I'm a teacher. Really and truly. There's no getting around that. What's worse is that everything I suspected about teachers is true: they're only regular people. They don't know a whole lot more than anyone else. What I didn't know is that they care deeply about each of their students. Goodness, some of those kids walk in looking like they haven't slept or eaten in days, and it kills me. "When did you go to bed last night?" "Eleven, like always." *shpink* "Well, what did you have for breakfast?" "Froot Loops." Or even better, "I didn't eat breakfast." I think I'm more anxious to feed them snack than they are to eat it. It makes it hard to serve them snack food, though. I feel like I should have oatmeal or something. Geez. Hmm. I'll have to consider that.

And then there are the surreal moments, like blowing bubbles.... Only I have to back up a bit in order for that to make sense. When I was six and seven, the Gooches taught my class. They're now the Sunday School leaders, or she is, and he backs her up, or something. In any case, they used to take us outside and blow bubbles. We'd then race around and try to pop them. Or rather, the other kids would race around trying to pop them. I had never enjoyed popping bubbles. It seemed almost criminal. I liked blowing bubbles very slowly and then watching them drift out of sight. (Yeah, in case you were wondering, this day-dreaming streak of mine did NOT kick in anytime in the recent past.) It follows, then, that I'd stand and scowl at the Gooches. "WHY can't I blow bubbles? I'm not messy like the other kids. I won't spill it. I'll be very careful." "Only teachers blow bubbles," they would reply, unmoved. I can't tell you how many times I'd march into the house after Sunday School, snatch up my bottle of bubbles and head outside to have MY turn. *grins* Anyway, so today I went into the office and talked to Sis. Gooch. "They're so antsy! I need to give them something to do! It's so unfair to make them sit there in their seats when all they want to do is hang out with each other." "Take them outside and blow bubbles."

So that's what we did. I stood there with the bottle of bubbles, blowing clouds at the kids, who raced screaming after them. One little girl, though, marched up to me. "Why do YOU blow the bubbles? I won't spill any. Let ME." I just grinned at her. "Sorry. Only teachers blow bubbles." And someday she'll understand. For now, though, it was really cool being on the other end of a tiny scowl, seeing the same light dance in her eyes and realizing that she just might be the one who grows up and blows the bubbles.

It's an interesting and scary thing, this teaching of small children.

posted by Emma @ Sunday, February 08, 2004 0 comments

Ladies and gentlemen, we have launched.

I'm proud to host the announcement of Derek's new journal! You'll find his peppy wit and charm now comfortably located at derekuda.blogspot.com. Enjoy, and be sure to leave him a note expressing the absolutely uncontrollable excitement you must feel now that he's on BLOGSPOT instead of that silly and difficult to use JOURNAL thing he had going. *runs. fast.*

posted by Emma @ Sunday, February 08, 2004 0 comments

"Say," Sleeping At Last

Say what you really want to say
And the truest of forms will show
Finally you'll find your soul
They impose the endless fight to always be perfect
It seems they have been chosen to be above the rest
But the contradiction stands between these perfect lives
And the words that they misread ... there was no reading
Say all the things that you really want to say
The truest of forms will show
Finally you'll find your soul
The landscapes of being are endlessly competing back and forth
For an answer to existence that we can never find
In all the places that we've searched out
In all the pulses that we've taken ... there was no reading
Say all the things that you really want to say
Then you'll find the truest of forms will show
And finally you'll find your soul
Give us the answers and the ability to hear
The landscapes of being are endlessly competing
For an answer to existence that we can understand
Perhaps we're looking far too closely
We can't see all the evidence in its entirety
The air in our lungs, the complexity of our love
Say all the things that you really want to say
Then you'll find the truest of forms will show
And finally you'll find your soul
Say what you really want to see
And the truest of forms will show
Finally you'll find your soul

posted by Emma @ Saturday, February 07, 2004 0 comments

I'm Back

I can hardly begin to explain this experience. If you've talked to me about signing lately, you know I've been discouraged. I've been doubting my talent (potential and developed), complaining about my lack of assignments (though blaming it on no one but myself) and saying nothing but "Let me get into the I(nterpreter) T(raining) P(rogram) and I'll be fine. Let me drown in sign day after day and I'll come back. Let me remember what it was like to DREAM in ASL, and then we'll talk. Ask nothing of me now."

Then last night I went to a Deaf social at a little Starbucks in the city. Robin, dearest Robin, came and picked me up, and in we went. I rode BART for the first time, which was cool. It's been a long time since I did any serious people-watching, and I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed it.
When we first arrived, I wasn't comfortable, not really. My receptive skills have been in a decline, and I'm painfully aware of it. How could they not be? I rarely get a chance to interact with Deaf people outside of interpreting, which means that normally, I'm the one doing the signing. That's great, except that when a Hearing person communicates with a Deaf person, the Hearing person sets the pace. For those of you who haven't been there with a foreign language, that means that if I sign better than I read sign, and I'm the one setting the pace, I get lost and it's my own fault. *groans* However, after about half an hour, the English faded away and I was lost in the staccato rhythms of pure ASL. My eyes grew accustomed to the movements like yours would become accustomed to bright light, and after a while, I rarely missed a beat.

That said, I met some really cool people. One of them, Dave, is my age, almost exactly. He's into drama, reading, science fiction, random bits of information about humans... He says I have a Deaf nose because I'm so interested in smells. Or rather, I'm so picky about them. The way a person smells has a fair amount of sway over whether or not I'm comfortable with them at the outset of an acquaintance, and some people have scents that I find absolutely delicious. Places all have scents. Everyone's house has a smell. Everyone's car has a smell. Everyone's books have a smell. No doubt you realize this, but I suppose not everyone reacts as strongly as I do to smells. I'm sure plenty of you do, though... *shrugs* Anyway. He's cool. I hope I can keep in touch with him.

I finally got to hang out with Robin's Jan. He's just plain awesome. Signs beautifully, reads my signs very well, is hysterically funny, likes my jokes as well.... He teases me, though, because I don't know about half of the foods he brought up. He's taken it upon himself to have me taste lots of Filipino food. He's converted Robin, though I know she was exposed to the culture quite a bit more than I ever have been because of her sister's fiance, Eddie, and his family. Ooo, and I saw Eddie again! So cool. He's one of the few people from school that I still miss as time goes on. He has to be one of the nicest guys ever.

I also met Jun... Greg... Oh, brother. I'm never going to be able to list everyone. I have restored faith in my sign, though, because almost no one knew I was hearing until I answered my phone. That was amusing. Ahhh. I'm happy. I wish I had more Deaf friends who signed pure, perfect ASL, but hey... I will. I will. I just have to.

posted by Emma @ Saturday, February 07, 2004 0 comments

Facing yourself...

"Lies weigh more than truth
Innocence looks good on you
Now everybody wants to know your name"

posted by Emma @ Friday, February 06, 2004 0 comments

My Apologies

"You never blog about anything real anymore. You just post lyrics, and you don't even post explanations with them. You just slap them up there like you expect us to read your mind and know what you mean."

Uhm... not really. Usually the lyrics are directed at one person, or they're so general that it's not even worth trying to direct them. The reason I haven't been posting anything truly personal is that I'm WITH you guys from 9 in the morning until (sometimes) 12:30 at night. Even later, I suppose... So what's left to say? You want me to recap the day's events? Tell you what I thought about them? "Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I truly did enjoy building that set today, or rather, watching you build it. Yes. Lovely." Or even better, I could fill you in on the few parts you miss. "Yeah, so the production meeting was great. We discussed costumes and solo distribution again. The only interesting thing was listening to Jan talk about Justin's dance demonstration in class. Or maybe it was when Jan said "And what do you want the dancers wearing for this number?" and Pam said "Nothing." I don't know. That's a tough call.

See what I mean? The very few things that happen when you don't all see me aren't really any of your business, I suppose. I also suppose it makes me grouchy when people critique my blog for content. It shouldn't; after all, that's why it's here, so you'll read it... Hmm. I'm not sure. In any case, if something blog-worthy takes place or strikes my fancy, I'll be sure to post it here. Hang in there.

posted by Emma @ Friday, February 06, 2004 0 comments

"Live Out Loud," The Benjamin Gate

Fire reflecting in these eyes
Visions of you, imagine my surprise
Sweat hot hands, cold shivers down my spine
Visions of you, your spirit so divine
Live out, live out, live out loud
Live out, live out, live out loud
Live out, live out, live out loud
Your eyes pierce through this life of mine
And bring me to give all that I can find
Revelation my heart's desire
Pull me up and out of the mire
Live out, live out, live out loud
Live out, live out, live out loud
Live out, live out, live out loud
I am a witness
I'm at the scene of this
I'm throwing myself
I'm throwing myself into you
Live out, live out, live out loud
Live out, live out, live out loud
Live out, live out, live out loud

posted by Emma @ Friday, February 06, 2004 0 comments

"Also cute and fluffy!"

I can feel tomorrow's boredom creeping up on me... My day off, and I hate it. I hate sitting home by myself. I used to really like being alone, even though I had wonderful friends, but lately, I love being around the crew all the time (or at least with some member of said crew). I don't have a lot of time to write, but.... Funny, I feel like a cat lately. Always landing on my feet, tiny and self-centered, big green eyes, melt into a puddle if you touch me the right way, observant, sleepy, cuddly, and lots of claws.

Hmm.

This bears further scrutiny... Meow.

posted by Emma @ Thursday, February 05, 2004 0 comments

That's sort of what I meant, about rules and conscience...

"It is said correctly that law exists not for the Just but for the unjust, for the Just carry the law in their hearts, and do not need to call it from afar."
-- Jaster Mereel--

posted by Emma @ Thursday, February 05, 2004 0 comments

Expressions of Self

Words are my primary expression of my being. Second to that is my physicality itself, the way I walk, talk, my facial expressions, my voice, my laugh, my hands and my mouth. Lastly I hurl songs at people. "Here, if you can't understand ME, listen to this."

And then I have my friends who don't express themselves through words, and are a bit confused and (in the extreme) envious when I do so. How can I communicate with them? How can I understand what they're trying to say to me? How do they express themselves? It's really starting to get under my skin. I wish I could slip inside their heads for a moment and then wrap their emotions in words like the invisible would wrap themselves in swaths of fabric when they wished to be seen. Aw, if you can't tell me what you mean, then try to find music that says it, and if that doesn't do it, paint me a picture, and if you can't paint, cry, and when all else fails, let me hug you. Maybe that will tell me all I need to know.

Those of you who are like me, wordsmiths by nature, play with me. Listen. Talk. Bounce words off me, let me throw them at you. My edge is dulling, my talent is slipping, my perception is blurred and I am uneased.

posted by Emma @ Wednesday, February 04, 2004 0 comments

Me as a Language

Ooo. Fun. And no, I didn't do this on purpose.

Spanish or Italian
What Language Are You?

posted by Emma @ Tuesday, February 03, 2004 0 comments

From "Swan Dive," Sister Hazel

Oh yeah I might be crazy - but that's not the same as insane
And I'm scared - but that's not the same as being afraid
If I throw myself over the edge
If I find myself in over my head
If I shatter from the fall and I lose
I'd still want to swan dive - into you
So tell me now what you're thinking
A Lincoln for your thoughts or a dollar for them all yeah
Well I can take the truth - no I can't - yes I can
Tell me we were meant to be - a happy accident
Would you cry if I said it
Would you get it if I told you that I want you and I need you
Aw, that wouldn't say enough
Hell, I love you
How 'bout that, yeah

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Great song.

posted by Emma @ Tuesday, February 03, 2004 0 comments

Various and sundry bits of nonsense...

"Life is pain! Anyone who says differently is selling something."

Yeah, so I'm tired. Magic theater rehearsals are three hours long for me, twice a week. I was double-casted, which is really exciting, 'cause it means that I'm not separated from anyone, but on the other hand, it means that I run, leap, crouch, duck, fall, pounce, hide, yell, holler, whisper, call, whine, and grumble for three hours straight. I'm having fun, but it certainly is going to get me in good shape. I think only the beginning will be this difficult. Once I'm used to it, it'll be great.

In other news, I'm starting to get that "no, no no NO! Leave me alone! I give horrible advice, I'm not a good friend and I can hardly keep my OWN head on straight" feeling that I get. It's no one's fault. I just have very long days with almost no real downtime (even though there seem to be hours in which nothing is accomplished), I'm trying about five completely new things, and I don't really know what everyone else should be doing. That particular flaw in my thinking only shows up when I'm really and truly bored.

I'm not bored. I'm quite far removed from boredom. I'm challenged mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually, so why would I try and organize YOUR life? See, it's not that I don't care, it's just that my maternal instinct is on stand-by. I'm sorry for anyone who's borne the brunt of this swift change of winds, but I daresay there are those of you I've stopped mothering who are more than grateful I've finally shut up.

Carry on, gentlemen. Carry on.

posted by Emma @ Tuesday, February 03, 2004 0 comments

"Acoustic N3," Goo Goo Dolls

They painted up your secrets
With the lies they told to you
And the least they ever gave you
Was the most you ever knew
And I wonder where these dreams go
When the world gets in your way
What's the point in all this screaming
No one's listening anyway
Your voice is small and fading
And you hide in here unknown
And your mother loves your father
'Cause she's got nowhere to go
And she wonders where these dreams go
'Cause the world got in her way
What's the point in ever trying
Nothing's changing anyway
They press their lips against you
And you love the lies they say
And I tried so hard to reach you
But you're falling anyway
And you know I see right through you
'Cause the world gets in your way
What's the point in all this screaming
You're not listening anyway

posted by Emma @ Monday, February 02, 2004 0 comments

Interesting. Life is interesting.

Before I say anything, let me cheer for the panthers. They tried hard, and I was hopeful.

So tonight was cool. After church I went to Applebees with the entire crew. Ben's been coming to church, so he was with us, and we had an Emjamin evening. Eh. It never works to try and explain what happens in large groups, does it? Just know I had a good time, if you're one of those people who cares.

posted by Emma @ Sunday, February 01, 2004 0 comments

"Nobody's Listening," Linkin Park

...
With these non-stop lyrics and life living,
Not to be forgotten, but still unforgiven
But in the meantime, there are those
Who wanna talk this and that, so I suppose
That it gets to a point where feelings got to get hurt,
And get dirty with the people spreading the dirt. It goes...
Tried to give you warning, but everyone ignores me
Told you everything loud and clear
But nobody's listening
Called to you so clearly, but you don't want to hear me
Told you everything loud and clear
But nobody's listening
I got a heart full of pain
Head full of stress
Hand full of anger
Held in my chest
And everything left's a waste of time,
I hate my rhymes, but hate everyone else's more
I'm riding on the back of this pressure,
Guessing that it's better
I can't keep myself together
Because all of this stress gave me something to write on
The pain gave me something I could set my sights on
Never forget the blood, sweat and tears
The uphill struggle over years, the fear and
Trash talking and the people it was to
And the people that started it, just like you
Tried to give you warning, but everyone ignores me
Told you everything loud and clear
But nobody's listening
Called to you so clearly, but you don't want to hear me
Told you everything loud and clear
But nobody's listening
I got a heart full of pain
Head full of stress
Hand full of anger
Held in my chest
Uphill struggle, blood, sweat and tears
Nothing to gain, everything to fear
Heart full of pain
Head full of stress
Hand full of anger
Held in my chest
Uphill struggle, blood, sweat and tears
Nothing to gain, everything to fear
Heart full of pain...
Tried to give you warning, but everyone ignores me
Told you everything loud and clear
But nobody's listening
Called to you so clearly, but you don't want to hear me
Told you everything loud and clear
But nobody's listening
I got a heart full of pain
Head full of stress
Nobody's listening
Hand full of anger
Held in my chest
Nobody's listening
Uphill struggle, blood, sweat and tears
Nobody's listening
Nothing to gain, everything to fear
Nobody's listening

posted by Emma @ Sunday, February 01, 2004 0 comments

On Trust

"I don't trust anyone," I said matter-of-factly. "Not even God, not all the time."
And my friend Derek was stunned. "I never thought I'd hear you say that."
"Well, it's true," I said ruefully.

And it is true. My friends, the ones who've known me for a long time, all know it. It's quietly accepted, and they know it's not personal. I don't say it's your fault I don't trust you. It wouldn't matter how trustworthy you were; it wouldn't matter. It takes me years to truly trust people, and even after that, one wrong move, and I'm back nearly where I started. It doesn't really bother me anymore, to be brutally honest. I don't really know what the point of trusting people is, anyway. What does that mean? Does it mean I stop questioning your motives? Does it mean I trust you with secrets? And I have very few secrets that I truly care to keep, anyway. I'll tell you this one if you offer me a listening ear and comfort in return. Advise me. Tell me your view. And yeah, if you turn around and tell the next person who comes along, more power to you. Stupid of you, but not really unexpected. I don't think less of you for it, I just make sure that I'm desperate for someone to listen before I turn to you again.

I'm on this little rant because my friend still doesn't understand. "You can trust me."
I laughed softly. "Never trust a man who says 'trust me'."
And the dark elf doesn't expect me to trust him. In fact, that might disappoint him, I think. Who knows.
Ben wants me to trust him, and from the looks of things, I might end up actually doing so. I sort of don't care if I get hurt in the long run these days. I've discovered that I bounce back from things that are supposed to mess people up. I'm stronger than I look, and I've become a lot more matter-of-fact about getting myself into messy situations. I wouldn't call this apathy, really. I care. I just don't care as much as I used to, and I want the experience enough that it overrides my self-preservation mechanism.

This post will make sense to maybe.... five of you. Meh. Ah, who cares. Take it for what it's worth.

posted by Emma @ Sunday, February 01, 2004 0 comments