|
SupergirlEmzel
|
read my profile
sign my guestbook
Name: Emily
Country: United States
State: Oregon
Metro: Eugene
Birthday: 7/6/1990
Gender: Female
Interests: Generally, interesting things. Specifically, Dreams, Dr. Pepper, Badminton, Watching people, Making movies, and unlike 99.5% of Mennonite girls in America, not coffee or scrap-booking.
Expertise: Storytelling, untangling slinkys, twisting people's minds
Occupation: Theoneanonly Mennonite actress
Message: message me
MSN: supergirlemzel@hotmail.com
Member Since:
7/17/2005
|
|
| Sometimes I post about depressing things that happen to me, because I am secretly hoping that someone will comment and magically have all the answers, and then, of course, they don't. Then I go on someone else's blog and here they have the same sort of thing, a depressing post about what is happening to them, and more than anything I want to leave a comment with the right answer in it but of course I don't know the right answer so I leave no comment at all.
Different subject. I went to school today to help out since it was the first day which means there were countless first pages to be read. I did things and did more things all day and then I came home and realized I probably should not go to Bible Study, seeing as how I didn't want to overdo things, so instead I took a nap and slept like a baby for FOUR HOURS. So much for not overdoing things.
I dreamed about Chinese people with red and green fire crackers.
Josh Clugston cracks me up so bad. He had a bit of a hard time reading, but acted like he really wanted to learn. He paused in the middle of the passage he was reading and was like, "how about you read a word and than I read a word? That's what my mom does."
"I would," I said, "except it wouldn't be fair, because all the other kids have to read everything."
Then he started fake crying, so I started fake crying too, all "boo hoo! I just want to be fair!"
He laughed and laughed and laughed, and then sat up straight and finished reading the page without a problem.
A different time there was this page of Ace talking to Baba, and every time he came to the word "I" he thought it was "L." "No," I kept explaining, "it's 'I', not 'L', because sometimes they leave the little marks off the top and the bottom."
"There are lots of I's," he said, "I want to count the I's."
So he counted them, and then started reading again. I think there were 10.
Soon he came to another "I" and again thought it was an "L." When I explained it to him again, he said, "Bike. Is bike and 'I' word? Can you say some 'I' words?"
So I said "dike" and "spike" and he laughed. "Let's say some 'I' words every time we come to an 'I,'" he said. But then it was break time before we got much further.
It made me remember back to when I had to read about Ace talking to Baba. I remember this one time when we had to read this page where Ace kept saying, "Mother is calling, Baba. I must run help her. I must go right away. Etc" and neither Justin nor I could figure out why Ace was telling Baba all this instead of just going and helping his mom.
Oh, here's another random different subject. The school should seriously get some new equipment. Yes, in the day and age when CD's are becoming old school, we have tape players. And not any kind of tape players, but old school tape players, if you can imagine that. Normal headphones don't even plug into them, you have to use these huge old uncomfortable ones. But I must say that little kids sure look cute wearing those huge headphones.
CANE SUGAR IS IN EVERYTHING.
| | |
| ring tones, goat cheese, and pink fuzziesI think I should seriously stop answering my cell phone...I realized today that almost half of the calls I have ever gotten on that thing have been people I don't know. Yesterday someone thought I was "Robin." And once I got a text from someone who thought I was "Nate," so it's not like I got someone's old cell phone number and people keep calling me thinking I'm him.
Yeah, so if I was a normal I-can't-live-without-my-cell-phone teenager with a normal plan this wouldn't matter so much, but instead I've got one of those cheep phones where you buy minutes as you go and every ring tone makes you want to cover your ears, so one wrong number call lasting only a minute costs me 3 and 1/3 text messages.
Oh, and if you're wondering why I have the cheep cell phone with annoying ring tones while Matt and Amy have really cool phones, it's because we got this family plan that only lets you have five cell phones on the plan at once, so of course those slots were filled by Mom and Dad and Matt and Amy and the Warehouse, which is obviously much more important than me. Not that I'm bitter or anything. Actually I'm not, because despite the wrong number calls and annoying ring tones I actually like my cell phone, but it's fun to pretend to be bitter about it.
Today I got the results from my blood test.
Good News: I am no longer allergic to apples, oranges, cranberries, gum carrageenan, goat cheese, and all those other things.
Bad News: I am still allergic to chicken, and, of all things, CAFFEINE and CANE SUGAR. And some other things with weird names, but those are the most annoying ones. Goodbye wonderful Kenyan black tea every morning. Hello even MORE tired feelings.
Oh, I've been sick for an entire year now. I'm glad I didn't know it would last a year when I first got sick.
I am currently reading a romance novel I was given about a year ago. The book looks really cool, but the story is so crazy that it sends me into gales of laughter and makes me seriously wonder what the author's problem was.
This will probably be the last romance novel I read in a long time. Maybe forever. Seriously, you learn more from reading Dr. Seuss than novels like this. Much more.
I always thought ponchos were dumb, except maybe on little girls, but Amy bought me a really cheep poncho and it is really comfortable. And pink. And it leaves a trail of pink fuzzies wherever it goes. And you can also wear it like a skirt over pajama pants but it looks kind of silly. So I guess now I think ponchos are kind of cool.
This is it. The end of my post. In case I don't see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and good night!
| | |
| One of the most frustrating things about life is that there are SO MANY AMAZING THINGS TO DO and yet they ALL REQUIRE HEALTH. And not "Yippee I'm only half sick now instead of flat-on-my-back-take-every-sort-of-obscure-medicine-someone-thinks-will-help-me" health, but "look at me I can be busy all day without having to lie down from sheer exhaustion once" health.
Apparently there's no niche in life for someone who is half-sick and longing for adventure.
Now I'll tell a funny story in an attempt to cheer myself up.
Yesterday morning Jenny loudly complained to Amy that there was PEPPER ON HER EGGS!!! Amy, rolling her eyes, told her that she had put pepper on the eggs for the past three mornings, and Jenny had never noticed until now. I was kinda making fun of Jenny a little bit for that, and then I felt sorry for her cause she was so ganged up against so I switched tactics and was all, "oh, poor widdle ootsie wootsie Jenny! Why did Amy have to put pepper on your poor widdle eggs?" in this not really mocking but very dramatic voice.
Jenny sniffed. "That's more annoying than pepper," she said.
| | |
| poetrySo much to doI'm tiredSo tiredWhat shall I do?I'm tiredSo tiredI should write a storyI should clean my floorI should do some schoolworkAnd then do some moreBut I am so tiredSo dreadfully tiredIf I want to travelTo Bible School shortlyI must make some moneyI must write a storyMy brain is so tiredSo dreadfully tiredMy floor is so dirtyA sight to be seenI should take the vacuumAnd make it all cleanBut it is so heavyAnd I am so tiredI'm always so tiredSo horribly tiredI would, of course, have added to that poem, writing about how I should be doing my schoolwork but wasn't, only I fell asleep before I could.
Wait, I better add a disclaimer before I go further: I am not a serious poet; that is, I write poetry for amusement, make it have rhyme and rhythm in some places but not in others, and then laugh at it.
In any case, the point of this post is that I am tired all the time. And that being tired all the time makes me feel like an old lady. Oh, and I was going to mention somewhere that I somehow became a morning person, after I drink my tea, at least, and I'm not sure how it happened. I've never been a morning person before.
One last thing. Bible School is rather far off in the future, I just wrote that "Bible School shortly" thing to make it sort of rhyme.
| | |
| I was going to write a blog post. I was going to write about maybe going to Bible School and slowly getting better and being tired all the time and doing schoolwork and an interesting website I found called nanowrimo, but when I looked at it it was very dull and boring. So now I'm just writing random stuff as usual.
I wonder if dull and boring mean exactly the same thing. I wonder if putting them together adds emphasis or is redundant.
While slaving away doing schoolwork this morning I found a cool King James word that I had read thousands of times, most likely, but never realized how cool it was until today. "Whithersoever." How come no one says "Whithersoever" anymore? It just rolls off your tongue.
I cannot believe how much time I have spent writing this post. I never take this log to write a post. My brain floweth not. I cannot believe I am resorting to posting a picture, especially considering the fact that I've posted pictures in the last two posts, but I am posting a picture so I suppose I shall have to learn to believe it.
Interesting things about the above picture:
A lady is standing all by herself with a white plastic bag, looking at either calenders or postcards. You can tell she is a tourist because she is looking at calenders or postcards which most likely say "Oregon Coast" on them. You can also tell she is from out of state because no one in Oregon would use a plastic bag. (OK, in case you didn't realize it, that was a joke. I'm sure there are some people in Oregon who use plastic bags.)
Another lady is standing behind my head with a huge brown purse, and if it weren't for her legs, the purse would look like a brown balloon that I was trying to blow up.
I am wearing a very nice slit-less goodwill-special skirt that I had gotten that day actually, but it has since disappeared and no one has a clue where it went.
There is a pencil holding up my hair.
Oh, and one more thing. A huge creepy-looking green frog is handing me a bunch of fake flowers.
I hope you got a smidgen of amusement out of this post. If not, I have wasted a good deal of time that should have been spent doing schoolwork and cleaning my room.
| | |
|
