Wednesday, September 30, 2009

The Price We Pay

Right, so last night it was kind of funny to think that it was the last day of warmth. It was almost comical to think that everyone knew what was coming, and like a terminal illness, they were taking advantage of every last moment of happiness. It was silly to think that it would be fun to wear coats and jackets with coordinating scarfs and hats. It was nonsensical to think that it would be enjoyable to take a little stroll in the snow. Yes, it was fun to think that Fall in Rexburg was coming. That was last night. Then Fall came to Rexburg. I awoke to the sound of ice cold rain hitting the sound of the frost-bitten pavement. Our window was left open last night, and a fresh gust of Rexburg wind cascaded over my body. Curse me for going to bed in shorts and a T-shirt. Curling into a ball in my bed, I pressed snooze on my cell phone and prayed that I would be in Florida when I woke up again. my alarm went off five minutes later, and regretfully, I was not on a sunny beach in Daytona, instead I was still in this iceburg called Rexburg. I jumped out of bed, grabbed some clothes, and ran to a warm shower. However, the plumbing must be controlled by the weather, for I was rapidly running out of warm water. That was stressful, and slightly foreboding of the day I was sure I would have. Then I had to decided what to wear. That was stressful. But not nearly as stressful as tying to do my hair, knowing that it was only going to get wet, making my look like a drowned cat by 10:14 AM. I got ready fairly quickly this morning, but stalled for over 40 minutes simply because I didn't want to leave my apartment. Yet, my Visual Media project was beckoning, and I had to head to the library. That was a fateful walk. Bundled up in my BYU-Idaho hoodie, lime green socks, and trusty brown moccasins, I embarked on what was sure to be my coldest adventure in months. I was not disappointed. I felt goosebumps forming on my legs halfway down my steps, and my nose is still trying to defrost. I tried to avoid puddles, and not get hit by oncoming cars. My peripheral was shot, as I had my hood up, modeling the Bagwoman of Kellcotta look. I did however try to pay attention to other students. They looked as miserable and forlorn as I felt. There was a conglomeration of hoodies, The Far Side jackets, and beanies. Yet everyone had the same expression that seemed to say, "It's 8:37 in the morning, and it's 41 degrees out. Why am I doing this again?" Oh right, a college education. The price we pay to be smart. I hope that there are some kind of saint points in heaven that BYU-I students are racking up for going to school in Rexburg. Just saying. In the meantime, I am going to prep myself mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually for my seven minute walk from the library to the Hinckley so I can continue my college education with English 311. Wish me luck. Thank you, and goodnight.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

7 Layers

Today I said good-bye to my last day of warmth for what feels like the rest of my life. Good-bye sunshine and Florida. Hello Rexburg. I think I hear depressed violin music in the background (for real actually...) and I may or may not have just shed a tear. Tomorrow the high is 44 degrees. No, that is not a joke. 44 degrees plus 7 layers of clothing equals I just might almost live. Almost. Pray for me. Thank you, and goodnight. 

Nonsense on Repeat

Right, so I had a sort of epiphany today. I realized that dating is really just nonsense on repeat. Everyone in the world has dating problems, love problems, boy problems, girl problems, commitment problems, or what have you. Everyone hates the institution called dating. Granted you might have a good date here or there, but you know you hate the overall process and concept. Make a total stranger fall for you. No bueno. But think about it! All of life's problems with dating are really only one problem; one problem that constantly repeats. For example: for the longest time, anyone who knew me knew that I hated dating, because I only ever dated creepers. I had pity date after pity date, and after so long, I found that I had convinced myself that I would only ever get pity dates because that was all I was ever good for. False. Then I went to this lovely little place called Orlando where I discovered that I had this thing called agency, and could therefore say the blessed word, "No." That was empowering. And I used that power and that agency, and my life improved. I learned that I was worth more than my comical dating life. Suddenly, I wasn't defined as Emmilie without a boyfriend, I was just Emmilie. I learned how to be happy being just Emmilie, and I stopped putting limitations on my happiness. No longer would I be happy when I was dating someone. No longer would I be happy when I was thinner. No longer would I be happier when I got married. I was going to be happy now; what a difference that made. Being happy everyday is infinitely better than being happy tomorrow. So, when I stopped the repetition of dating creepers, I was happy dating. I went on dates, had fun, thought about what I wanted, about who I was, but most importantly- I was happy! Weird how that works. Granted there were moments of frustration: "Why can't things be different??" "Why can't he just like me?!" "What the crap does that mean???" Yet after the moments of frustration, and the minutes of exasperation, I was able to be happy again. 
Yet single people all over the world are living their lives in a nonsensical repetition that is undesirable by all! They continue to live their lives in repeat; repeating those stupid blind dates; repeating being the girl constantly put in the friend category; repeating being "My big brother, Mark;" repeating being that go to guy when I'm having relationship problems; repeating not being able to say how you really feel. Why? Why do we repeat such nonsense that drives us insane?! That rubbish that pushes us to the limit, and makes us vow that we'll never love again, only to be dazzled by that handsome allusive stranger who just exacerbates the repetition. Blast you attractive men. 
Whatever it is though, we continue to do it, day in and day out, unwilling to break the bonds of conformity and find true and everlasting bliss. Yet there comes a day when suddenly that conformity is broken. Suddenly you say how you feel; suddenly you are not the girl in the friend zone; suddenly she doesn't think of you as her big brother, Mark, but realizes that she's in love with you. Suddenly things are different, and different is glorious. And that's what drives people to matrimony. They have broken the constricting bonds of conformity, and found love. And who'd have thunk. No longer are they living each day the same, dealing with the same madness over and over. Instead everyday is a wonderful new surprise- and it is glorious. Thank you, and goodnight. 

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Emmilie Woodhouse

I retract this comment. Thank you, and goodnight. 

Saturday, September 26, 2009


Okay, so I have had Jason Mraz's "If It Kills Me," and Jordin Sparks' "Battlefield" stuck in my head intermittently for the past week. Is that a bad sign? Also, I've gotten hiccups thrice today. What does that mean? Oh, and I'm pretty sure I have an ulcer. Thank you, and goodnight. 

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Not For the Life of Me

So don't judge me, but I'm having kind of an off day. It's the kind of day where for the life of me I can't keep my eyes open, and my brain functioning at the same time. For the life of me, I can't recall how my jeans do in fact have grass stains all over them. For the life of me I cannot think of the next segment of time I will have that will bear the label "free." For the life of me, I cannot keep a sentence coherent and concise. For the life of me, I don't know how my brain is going to retain the hour and a half load of information I am about to receive on InDesign. For the life of me, I can't get rid of this pounding headache. For the life of me, I cannot make my hair un-static. For the life of me, I can't get that stupid permanent marker off of my hand from Monday. For the life of me, I cannot make 24 hours a day turn into 37 hours a day. For the life of me I cannot wait until bedtime. For the life of me, I cannot tell you how much I love my classes. Thank you, and goodnight. 

Monday, September 21, 2009

Chick Flicks

Okay, so some days, I don't love chick flicks. They are all the same crap, and they try to make you think that it's real life, and it happens all the time. You are fed situation after situation of boy meets girl in the most bizarre, comical, awkward, unlikely and charming ways. Then the media, bless them, keeps you on the edge of your seat often times in agony, dying to know weather or not these two people who in real life are, let's face it, pretty pathetic finally get together. Then they do and kiss it out as the credits roll, leaving women all over America to bemoan their current state, find a dry patch of that nasty damp tissue, wipe their eye, and wish that their girls night was blessed with the company of the male sex. Let's examine this.

Situation 1:

Girl meets boy. Girl can't stand boy. Boy continues to be his idiotic self, and eventually they fall in love. I have met boys that I can't stand. We never fell in love. Promise. This is not real life. And what exactly does this say about women? That finally we just cave and fall for the first loser that comes along who will take us? Come on, ladies. Help a sister out here. 

Situation 2: 

Girl meets boy. Boy meets girl. Animosity ensues, but 2 and a half hours later all major character flaws are resolved, and they fall in love. Once again, I have been in relationships of mutual dislike. Again, we never fell in love. Lies, they are all lies. 

Situation 3: 

Boy meets girl. Boy and girl become friends. Boy and girl become best friends. Boy and girl fall in love. Boy and girl get married. 20 bucks say that boy and girl get divorced 13 years later. This kind of crap doesn't happen. 

Situation 4: 

Boy meets girl. Boy and girl decided that the timing is off. Boy and girl decide to meet in a few years. Girl goes to meet boy 5 years later, oh and gets hit by a cab. Boy is sad she never shows, but finds out then truth and the get together. I'm still mad about that movie... I bawled my eyes out. 

Situation 5: 

Boy meets girl. Girl is awkward, boy is awesome. Girl is ugly, boy is gorgeous. Girl takes off her glasses, pulls her hair out of her face, puts on a sweater that fits, and boy falls in love with her. Boy and girl get together and live happily ever after. Yeah right. 

Okay, so I don't know where all of this negativity came from, but whatever. It's fine. It needed to come out. Perhaps it's because I'm watching a chick flick with my roommate right now, getting more irritated by the minute. Pray for me. Thank you, and goodnight. 

Sunday, September 20, 2009


So my love life is fictional. As are all the men that I am in love with. Poses a problem. But I'm alright with it. Fictional men cannot lie, are always attractive, rarely selfish, and generally funny. I'm watching Emma right now, thinking about how much I love fictional men. Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Knightly win. Don't make me choose because I shan't. I also love Heathcliff even though I know I shouldn't. I must admit that Edward also has a little piece of my heart, and always will. Don't think I'm psycho or anything, but I also love Hamlet. Colonol Brandon, Jim Halpert, Nathan Steed, Neil from He's Just Not That Into You, and Oliver from A Lot Like Love- love them all. So judge if you must, but I will always and forever love fictional men. Thank you, and goodnight. 

Please Forgive Me, September

Sorry September. Sorry I'm such a crappy blogging friend. My brain is not producing any writing skill... therefore I have no writing juice. My bad, my bad. Please forgive me, September. Thank you, and goodnight. 

Tuesday, September 15, 2009


I miss Drew. A lot. Thank you, and goodnight. 

Stadium Singing

Stadium singing is one of my favorite things in the entire world. Standing under the BYU-I stadium, singing praises to our Heavenly Father makes my heart so happy. This past Sunday was my first Stadium Singing since last December. It had been far too long, so anxiously I left my casa at 9:14 and walked towards the Hart. I got there right on time, and tried to squeeze my way through the crowds. I was standing by myself, trying to find some people to sing with that I knew, but to no avail. That's what happens when you up and leave for 9 months... it's fine. I'm working on it. But don't get too concerned that I was by myself all night long. False. After the first couple of minutes some dude comes up behind me and says, "We're sharing, okay." Not a question, not a request, a statement. We were going to be sharing my hymn book. Rule Number 1, men. Don't tell me what I will or will not be doing. I'll punch you in the face. And although I didn't punch this fool in the face (it was Sunday) I gave him a nasty look, and acted like a jerk to him. Those of you who know me know that rarely do I ever give nasty looks in a serious manner. I'll give them in jest, but never for real. Well this time was legit. I was pissed. So I sang Love One Another, and felt slightly guilty. I decided to be nice and I asked the kid what his name was. "Sebastian." Was the reply, and I don't know why, but this was all too fitting, and I tried hard not to laugh out loud. The first thing that came to mind was "As in Bach?" I desperately wanted to ask this, but knowing that I still had 25 minutes of sharing in front of me, I refrained. But it was close. Then we sang another hymn, and he decided to lay the charm on me. He told me I had a great singing voice. I kind of laughed a bit, replied with a thank you, and told him that he also had a great voice. He didn't say anything, but got an all too knowing look on his face, and nodded pompously. I turned my head away so he wouldn't see the incredulity all across my face. What a square. Then we played the dreaded get to know you game. 

Emmilie: What are you studying?
Sebastian: Bio... That's Biology. 
(I know what Bio means... Thank you for your concern.)
Emmilie: Great...
Sebastian: What about you?
Emmilie: Communications, with an emphasis in Journalism. 
Sebastian: Okay, not bad. 
(I'm so glad to have your approval...)

Then we sang some more hymns, and my heart was softened again. This lead to more of this: 

Emmilie: So where are you from?
Sebastian: Ohio, but I have dual citizenship in Germany... My father is German law...

What?! Who says that? It was at this point luckily we started singing again. Thank goodness because I was dying. It was too perfect that our dear friend Sebastian has dual citizenship in Germany. He totally would. And I did in fact laugh out loud; hopefully he thought I was just really into "For the Beauty of the Earth." Such a great song. All in all, it was an interesting time at Stadium Singing. Thank you, and goodnight. 

Monday, September 14, 2009

The Hunt

Right, so Sunday’s are beautiful things. I missed having Sundays to myself in Orlando, because most of the time I ended up working, and that was just no bueno. But now I’m back in Rexburg, and every Sunday is mine. And I love it. But I haven’t been in Rexburg on a Sunday in a long time, and I forgot a few things. Sundays in Rexburg are huge. Girls will plan for weeks in advance what they are going to wear, especially on that first Sunday.  Why you may ask? because we have warped this day of rest into a hunting day. It’s not just the women mind you, the entire population of Rexburg is on the prowl. Girls spend an extra 22 minutes getting ready curling that normally straight hair, or applying those smokey eyes for all extensive purposes of attracting a mate.  Then, upon exiting your apartment, you are instantly sized-up by the other girls exiting their apartments. They want to know what the competition is going to be. It’s an intense game, and you either play rough or go home…single. The guys are just as bad. They prowl down the halls at church their eyes practically bulging out of their heads with the copious amounts of females all over the place. It’s almost too much to handle, but bear it they will. Sacrament meeting is insane because that’s when ALL the guys and ALL the girls finally come together right now, over me, thank you John Lennon. That’s when the true game comes out. Not gonna lie, I have gotten pretty good at flirting with my eyes, and I may or may not have worked it out. It’s fine. But eye flirting is harmless, because nothing ever comes of it. It’s just fun to do in the moment. Which is why I’m an advocate. It’s fine. After church is over you have the younger girls in the ward who are still sticking around trying to look available while avoiding the desperate look. Then you have the older girls who are done with that scene who just exit the building in style, knowing that if a guy wants to see her, he will make it happen. Then you have the awkward guys who probably just got off their missions 3 months ago, and are still trying to delve back into the world of women and dating. They are the guys standing on the sidelines trying to look inconspicuous, while sadly every girl knows exactly what they are doing. We know that you want to talk to us, yet just haven’t quite figured out how. Let me let you in on a little secret there fools, we know your game, and we play it. Man up, and come talk to us. Chances are it won’t blow up on the first try. The rest is in your hands, but we will almost always grant you that first shot. Good luck. And so it was an interesting day back, nonetheless. Let the hunt begin. Thank you, and goodnight. 

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Oxygen is Overrated

Do you want to hear a funny story? Well it goes a little something like this. Once upon a time I came to Provo to visit my dear friend, Mary Christine Rose Petals Topanga Carlisle. It was a splendid little visit. On one of our activities, we decided to climb the "Y." This is a nice little hike that is only about a mile and a half, but is straight up. Oh, and it's on a mountain, just in case you missed that. Well guess what dear readers, Emmilie has been living at sea level for the past 9 months... So the altitude was slightly different. Slightly a lot different. But it's fine. At 7:49 in the morning that lovely Saturday, Mary and I woke up, and after much internal struggle, and talking into by Shauna, we head out the door to meet the rest of our peeps. I should have known that I was in for a treat when I became short of breath on the DRIVE up the mountain. But after a few deep breaths, I filled my lungs, and climbed out of the car ready to conquer the "Y." Mary and I gave a little disclaimer that I was not used to the elevation, and after promises of much patience, and even more breaks, we embarked on our journey. After the first little hill I was already panting like I had just run a mile. But after feeling more determined, and drinking some water, I kept on hiking. Such a trooper. However, after the next couple of switchbacks, I was starting to get even more light headed, and was worrying about finishing. After a few more breaks, and trying to get everyone to go on ahead with promises of catching up, I still found myself climbing that mountain with our hiking buddies. What good people. But finally, my chest started making funny/disturbing noises. Kind like wheezing; a lot like wheezing. I barely made it to the 6th switchback when I started to blackout. Mary put her own water bottle in my hands, and I literally stumbled my way to a rock, and plopped down gasping for breath. Sounds pretty intense huh? It was. However the most aggravating part was that I knew I was fully capable of making the wretched 1.5 mile climb! My body wasn't tired, I just couldn't get enough oxygen. I personally think it's overrated; however my lungs do not. I couldn't breathe, and therefore only made it half way. I failed, and not gonna lie- it pissed me off all day long. But it's fine. I just felt like a square. Mary was kind enough to stay with me for the rest of the time. Um... we may or may not have made an awkward moment or two for Shauna and Scott, making it look like a planned Ninja date. My bad, Scott. My bad. But all was well in the end, and Shauna and Scott met back up with us, and we made our way down the mountain, each trying desperately not to face-plant it. So the moral of this story is to acclimate to your climate before you go hiking in it. Thank you, and goodnight.