Monthly Archives: February 2011

Monkey in the middle


This week someone asked me who I was. And I thought I knew the answer until I actually started to think about the person I truly am.

That is one of the toughest questions in the world. The question that means we have to sum up our being in only a few words. It’s difficult to answer that question automatically without some sort of thought.

I could sit here and list all the characteristics that describe me and all the activities I participate in, but does that make me who I really am?

The Christian band, Casting Crowns, explains perfectly how I feel with their song “Somewhere In The Middle.” My favorite lyric in the entire song portrays it exactly.

“Somewhere between the wrong and the right
Somewhere between the darkness and the light
Somewhere between who I was and who You’re making me
Somewhere in the middle, You’ll find me”

I feel like I am in the middle. I am not a horrible person, but I am no where close to perfect. Sometimes I say the right things at the right time, but most of the time I say the wrongs things at the wrong time.

I screw up things and mess up more than I do right, and most of time I find myself unable to fix the messes I make rather being able to make it all better.

Maybe this is what being a teenager is about. Maybe we are all caught in the middle. I guess others are just caught in the middle of different situations and places in life.

More often than not, I do worry about what others think of me even though I tell others they shouldn’t care. I always wonder if I am presenting myself in a manner that is truly me or am I just putting on my veil to be fake just to survive the day?

During this morning in FCA, the speaker made a great point. We segment who we are into different pieces. We are a certain way with our family, a certain with our friends, a certain way at school, a certain way with people we are close with, etc. We shouldn’t do that, though.

The older I get the more I want to realize who I am or become who I am meant to be. I don’t want to be four different persons. I just want to be one whole one.

I am Christian, a writer, a journalist, a photographer. I am definitely awkward and most definitely uncoordinated. I am an athlete. Someday, I will be a guitarist since I am learning how to play.

I am OCD. I am organized. I am the editor. I am the president of this club and that club. I am the friend that is always there. I am the shoulder to cry on. The hug that you always need.

Maybe the older I get, the more of the answer I can discover or perhaps the answer just changes as we evolve into the people God wants us to be.

I am coming to the understanding that it’s alright that I don’t know everything or that I am not what everyone thinks I should be.

Jimmy Eat World puts it in a language I can identify with.

“Hey, don’t write yourself off yet
It’s only in your head you feel left out or looked down on
Just do your best, do everything you can
And don’t you worry what the bitter hearts are gonna say

It just takes some time
Little girl you’re in the middle of the ride
Everything, everything will be just fine
Everything, everything will be alright, alright”

Sometimes, it’s okay to be stuck in the middle. From the middle we can go one of two places: forward or backward. I want to move forward. I want to move forward and find that light that makes me shine. To find who God wants me to be.


Memory in the making


"Memory... is the diary that we all carry about with us." ~Oscar Wilde

Out of the all things I treasure most in my life, my memories are something that I find myself clinging to sometimes. Good and bad. They are concrete. My memories can’t change.

For some reason, I have thought a lot about my memories this past week. I can’t put my finger on why I have exactly, but I have.

The cool thing about memories is that they are always consistent. When everything else starts whirlwinding around us, our memories are there just ready to be thought about. Sometimes, they can be a wonderful comfort.

I have memories of all kinds: happy, hilarious, sad, painful, etc. This week though, I was reminded of some of my more distinct memories. One of which was when I was really small.

Have you ever tired to run away? I know I did. I was about four. I can tell you exactly what I was wearing. That is element about all my memories. I always remember what I or the other persons involved in my memories are wearing.

Nonetheless, my mom made me extremely upset. So I thought I would just show her. I would simply run away. I would run away to my grandmother’s house. My grandmother lived right next store at the time, but I thought that would be enough distance to get the point across.

Off  I went into out my front door rolling my little Emily suitcase out with me. During whatever argument I had with my mother, she had offered to even help me pack to run away. I recall that not setting very well with me, but I left all the same.

I strutted down the driveway with my Pocahontas house shoes on without looking back. I know I eventually came back from grandmother’s house, and quite obviously I got over whatever had upset me.

Despite that time lets our mind forget certain moments, they are always still there. I will always remember the moment when my childhood best friend tore down my entire closet in the first grade. And I will always remember my first homerun, my first day of middle/high school, my first kiss, etc.

This week has been sorta hard for me. Life is making me be a big girl even though I really just don’t care for growing up right now.

I remember I used to always want to grow up. I thought that was just the best thing. Now, though, I really don’t want to anymore. It truly isn’t all its cracked up to be.

I am about to make a whole bunch of new memories. I can’t change a single thing I have done in the past. I can’t alter any memories, but I can always make new ones.

My life is about to take off. I hope I make the best memories possible. I will always have my memories when I have nothing else. They are here to stay even when everything else changes.

Bah Humbug


I am the Ebenezer Scrooge  of Valentine’s Day. I just absolutely do not like it. My dad used to say that whomever created the holiday should have a concrete block dropped on his head.

He was always under the impression that some florist conspired with a candy company to sucker people into buying endless amounts of flowers and candy. However, I am not exactly sure that Valentine’s Day was a conspiracy theory.

I do wonder though if good ole St. Valentine was possessed by Satan when he thought of such a holiday. Hallmark didn’t create this hellatious day contrary to popular belief or my dad’s, they just reinforced it.

Despite the fact that I have such a disliking for this fabricated day of love, I am still celebrating it. I had to get my secret pal a gift, and some of my classes are not treating tomorrow as an ordinary day.

As I went on my Wal-Mart adventure last night to find the items I needed for Monday, I people watched. I was at least going to get some entertainment out of the insanity people make this day up to be.

It was there I saw the face. The face every guy gets when they are just puzzled. I saw lots of guys just standing in the aisle with a clueless look about them. They didn’t know what to get their girl. They picked up all sorts of items. Huge overstuffed teddy bears, boxes of candy, etc. Some items, I am not sure why they even bothered picking up. This holiday is just quite overwhelming for guys. Girls have high expectations.

But just a little bit further down the aisle there was this small mob of girls. They were just so excited. In the middle of the mob there was one particular girl  talking very loudly about she was going to get her “boo.” They had been together two months and “OMG he is just so going to freakin’ love this!” [Insert high-pitched squeal here] I am not exactly sure what a sixteen year old boy wants with a huge stuffed animal with a picture of the two in the middle. But what do I know?

Perhaps I am a cynic for those of you who just fawn over this holiday since you are in love and yaddee yada. Love is something to celebrate. I am not saying that it isn’t. I mean who doesn’t like to be loved? But there doesn’t necessarily have to be a day dedicated to the cause.

I dislike the fuss made over this day. And yes, it does just make those of us without a “boo” feel even worse. That is not exactly a fun feeling either.

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. Whoopee.  Here I am seventeen and already a cynic. Maybe there is something wrong with this picture.

However, in light of the atrocious day I will at least allow to myself to spend my time in front of the TV watching Sleepless in Seattle or maybe even Hope Floats. And if I want to be even more of a masochist, I will find time to squeeze in one more love story or listen to a Taylor Swift album.

This day gives me the excuse to think like a hopeless romantic if only for one day. Maybe I have this all wrong. Maybe love will find a way somehow. My opinion might change one day. And unless fate intervenes, tomorrow will not be that day.

Oh well. Happy Day of Love.

Dream girl


My dreams are sorta like a McDonald’s meal when I am really hungry. My dreams are super-sized. No, I am not talking about the dreams I have when I fall asleep even though those are incredibly insane. I am talking about the dreams I think about constantly. The dreams that represent who I want to be in this world.

As of today, graduation is 110 days away, and that thought completely boggles my mind. When I graduate it means starting over again. It means I have to find my niche and exit my comfort zone completely. Just the thought of it scares me. It scares me a lot; however, I am slowly beginning to feel excited about it.

I guess this is what growing up is all about. Stepping out of your comfort and discovering what the heck you are supposed  to do with the life God gave you. Nonetheless, despite all my fears, I like thinking about the fact that I am one small step closer to my dreams.

When I was younger, I wanted to be so many things. I wanted to be a hair stylist, a teacher, a vet, and a writer. I started my hair cutting career when I was four, and it ended when I was five as I chopped off my bangs before my cousin’s wedding. As for the vet, that dream halted once I realized that not every animal I would work on would live. Once I came to this startling revelation, I crossed it off my list.

Teacher and writer though? I always penned my own short stories. Short stories that always and I mean always involved some sort of murder. I probably shouldn’t have grown up watching Law and Order, Murder She Wrote, and CSI, but it at least provides some inkling of reason as to why a third grader would write short stories with murder as the major detail.

However, I never knew until I started my journalism class that I really did want to be a writer. I wanted to change the world with my words. So starting my sophomore year of high school, I wanted to be a teacher and a writer. I wanted to write my own novel in high school. It was my goal starting my sophomore year of high school. A goal I told no one about. With a 110 days left, though, I don’t think I’ll make it considering I never got past 50 pages with any idea I tried.

Now though, I still want to write a book one day. I know I want to be a journalist. But the thought of being a teacher always tugs at my heart. I love high school. While most teenagers loathe it, I love it. I enjoy buying school supplies every year, and when August 3 or 4 rolls around, I am always ready to go back to school. I guess that means I am a true nerd or a dorkface as some have called me. But nonetheless, I am not sure what I want to be.

Scary isn’t it? Not knowing exactly what you want to be. The important element, though, is I know who I want to be. I want to be someone who changes my world for Christ especially with my words. I want to be a light in a dark world to those who need it.  If it means writing 30 novels then yes I am up for it. Being a journalism teacher for half my life? I am up for the task no matter how hard. And if God wants me to be the next Erin Andrews, who am I to say no to that? God knows what we are going to be. It’s up to us to follow Him in order to figure it out.