Monday, November 30, 2009

Feels Like:

Current weather for Rexburg, ID:

17. Feels like 8.

Current weather for Billings, MO:

32. Feels like 25.

Current weather for Ferndale, CA:

43. Feels like 43.

Current weather for Orlando, FL:

64. Feels like 64.

Right now, I feel like 8 degrees. Gross. And my immediate future is not looking too much warmer. I have much trepidation about Montana winters. Whenever I tell anyone that I'm going to Billings, there is the expected laughter, followed by the admonition to prepare for the cold. That's really comforting, thank you.

Dear Montana,

Please don't kill me with your wind, snow and overall cold exterior. I'll cry.

Love, Emmilie

Currently, I still feel like 8 degrees. Thank you, and goodnight.

Womanizer, Baby

I believe there is an epidemic among men. Now, while I have not fallen victim to this personally for a while, I have still been affected. I would venture to say that every woman at some point in her life has fallen prey to this disease. What is this disease I'm speaking of? Womanizer, you're a womanizer, baby. Indeed, men all over the world are busy left and right taking advantage of impressionable women who are swooning for their chauvinistic ways. What exaclty is a womanizer? Read on, dear friend. Read on.

Womanizer: [woo m-uh-nahy-zer]

a philanderer.


to pursue women lecherously.

There you have it. A womanizer is nothing more than a foolish man who goes around making each and every woman he comes into contact with feel special. Feel like the exception. Feel like they have a spark. Feel pretty. Feel good. Now, is it wrong to make another individual feel good, feel special, and feel pretty? False. Is it wrong to do so with the intention of leading said woman on, while never intending to have any sort of commitment to her? Truth.

Stop reading right now, and ask the closest woman to you if she knows such a man. I imagine something like this will happen. Her eyes will roll in disgust; her jaw will jut forward, and her overall countenace will turn to irritation and animosity, as she shakes her head with fire in her eyes. "Yes." She is sure to reply. She knows of such a man. "Steve." "Hank." "Jerry." "Tom." "Billy." "Danny." "Bobby." "Rick." "Dan." "Hal." Fill in whatever name you desire, his actions will be the same. She will then proceed to tell you in the most animated and passionate manner possible of why Hank, or Tom, or Bobby is scum of the earth. I'm sure his philandering will include flirting- with her and every other girl in the room. She will tell you of all the times they leaned in too close, or touched her arm or hand, or hair. It will include how she was convinced that he was in fact "in" to her. It is also sure to include the weeks and weeks she spent in between the flirting waiting and touching for Hank, Tom or Bobby to call her. It will include how attractive Hank, Tom or Bobby indeed is, and how naturally she couldn't just let it go; he is a hunk, and he made her feel special. She will then tell you how Hank, Tom or Bobby showed up to some party where he said he would meet her, and probably 4 other girls with some babe in red lipstick on his arm. That's when she and the 4 other girls took a hint, cried it out, ate some ice cream and started a bitter vendetta against Hank, Tom or Bobby.

It's a vicious cycle. But guess what? It happens every day. And until men like Hank, Tom and Bobby man up, realize the inflence they have on women, and decide to give them the respect they deserve, the cycle will just keep on repeating.

Now you know. You know what a womanizer is. Boy don't try to front, I know just what you are. Womanizer, baby. Thank you, and goodnight.


You know, some things in life are just confusing. Some things in life will rattle your brain. Some things in life make you laugh. Some things in life make you cry. Some things in life teach you to love, some teach you to live. Some things in life help you cope, and some things make you grow. Sometimes life teaches you to choose between what is safe and what is right. Life will always surprise you. Perhaps this is why I love life so much. Perhaps the true joy is found in the opposition; in the progression; in the triumphs. Truly, men are that they might have joy. So go. Have joy. Have life. Have love. Have heartache, and laughter, and sadness, and excitement. Have it all. Live life. Love life. Thank you, and goodnight.

Saturday, November 28, 2009


Dear Sister Buchanan:

You are hereby called to serve as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. You are assigned to labor in the Montana Billings Mission. It is anticipated that you will serve for a period of 18 months.

You should report to the Provo Missionary Training Center on Wednesday, February 10, 2010. You will prepare to preach the gospel in the English language.


God. And President Monson.

It happened. I finally got my mission call. 7 weeks after putting my papers in, many prayers, decisions, tears and testimony builders later- I have been called. To Montana. Bet you didn't see that one coming, did ya? Well me either, pal. But guess what? The more I ponder, the more I pray, I know that this is where I am supposed to be.

Not gonna lie- I am kind of terrified to go. I don't do small town very well. Oh, and did you know that Montana has the third lowest population density in the United States? Awesome sauce. Coincidentally, it is the fourth largest state. Ironic? Perhaps.

But guess what? I get to preach the gospel for the next 18 months of my life. That's worth living in Montana. That's worth tracking through farm country. I am so excited to serve my Lord. I know that this is the next step for me. And 20 bucks says that when I get back I can tell you anything you want to know about Montana, and have my Billings pride. Don't knock it till you try it, sucka!

This is cool: My mission covers the ENTIRE state of Montana, and part of Wyoming. Cool, huh? Don't deny it. You're jealous.

So on February 10, 2010 my life will forever change when I enter the MTC, learn how to teach by the spirit, and go forth, bearing testimony of my Savior, Jesus Christ. I can't wait. Montana, I heart you. Thank you, and goodnight.

Friday, November 27, 2009

Mental Capacity

Sometimes I think it would be funny to convince people that I'm crazy. This generally occurs when I catch myself doing something that a crazy person would do. Such as muttering to myself, laughing out loud when nothing funny happened, making awkward eye contact with someone because you either thought that they were looking at you, or that you knew them, or answering my text messages out loud. Actually, I do these kinds of things quite frequently. I have this problem where sometimes I get so into my thought process that halfway through it, I will say the climax of my thought out loud. That's kind of weird. I won't even deny it.

For example, one time when I was working for Red Robin, I was the only hostess with a drivers license, and coincidentally a car. Therefore I was the errand girl. I bought crayons, whipped cream, and an occasional Rock Star for the cooks. One week, Red Robin seemed to run out of something at least once a day, and I was called upon to make the Harmon's run. I was pondering this, and after an afternoon of "Hello, welcome to Red Robin! Have you tried the Whiskey River BBQ Burger?" my brain was desperate for some stimulating thoughts. So naturally I began to dissect my current state. I was slightly concerned because I was becoming such a regular shopper at this Harmon's grocery store that people were going to start to know me by name. Then, in my 17-year-old nonsense, I began to feel self conscious about always wearing the same thing there. (Which was nonsensical, becuase it was a uniform. It's okay. I was young and impressionable.) Anyways, I remember thinking long and hard about this. Luckily I came to the conclusion that it was a good thing that I owned two different colors of my Red Robin shirt. Therefore, they would not think I was so homeless-looking and poverty stricken. Now, here's the problem. Upon making this realization, I said this outloud while in the midst of a busy Harmon's parking lot: "Good thing I have two shirts or else they would think I was a hobo." Upon this declaration I recieved several looks that clearly questioned my mental capacity. I don't blame them. Maybe they didn't think I was a hobo, but they surely thought I was unstable. It's fine.

Again, I will admit that this is weird. But alas, it happens, and one day not too long from now I will not correct myself. I will not conform to the social norms. I will convince some innocent passerby that I am legitimately crazy. And then I shall laugh. Thank you, and goodnight.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Life Takes Intrigue

Life is interesting. I am reading my blogs from last November, taking a little gander at what life was like, and what my most pressing concerns were. This time last year I was waiting for my letter from Disney, still saying yes to awkward dates, and expressing some well played witty remark about the latest presidential election. Now, I am currently waiting for a mission call while trying to overcome idiotic people, mostly men, who try to tell me that I am wrong for serving a mission. Oh really? Why don't you go ask God on my behalf, for I am clearly not capable of receiving personal revelation myself, thank you very much.

It is highly interesting, however, seeing how much I have changed in the last year, and how much I have been prepared for my mission. A year ago I would not be as forward as I am now. A year ago I didn't write the way I do now. A year ago I didn't have as much confidence and self-assurance as I do. A year ago I still cared what people thought. A year ago I wasn't as brave. A year ago I didn't know what it meant to love someone. A year ago I didn't think I was going to serve a mission. A year ago I didn't trust God as much as I do now. A year ago I was from Arizona... kind of. A year ago I was scared.

Secretly, I'm still scared now. A mission is a scary thing. The future will forever scare me. The unknown is a frightening concept. Yet, in this moment, I know that God is with me, and will be forever. And in this moment, that is all that I need to put one foot in front of the other, and follow my Savior, knowing that because of him, "there is always hope smiling brightly before me."

See? Life is interesting. Thank you, and goodnight.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Where Do You Get Off?

I am sick of male chauvinistic pigs who try to tell me that the decisions I make in my life are wrong. How dare you. Thank you, and goodnight.

Team Jacob

Right, so I saw New Moon today. I expected to hate it, not gonna lie. But, for the most part, I actually highly enjoyed it. I won't lie, I laughed at the inappropriate time thrice, but can you blame me? The part when Edward and Bella were frolicking, yes frolicking, through the woods was enough to send a better woman than I though the roof. I mean, really? Who wrote that? Anyways, frivolous frolicking, and nonsensical slow-motion shots of Edward walking with his front shirt open, billowing in the wind aside, it was a decent film.

Confession: I am now Team Jacob. When I read the books, I was Team Edward all the way. But after the fateful casting of total fool Robert Pattinson, I made the best decision of my life, and stitched to Team Jacob. Bless you Taylor Lautner, bless you. Thank you for being brave, and in a cast of non-actors, having the audacity to show some integrity to your craft. Thank you for acting. And thanks for the extra 30 pounds of muscle. Nice touch.

Again, audiences were baffled by Edward Cullen and Bella Swan. You'd think that they wouldn't be nearly as awkward around each other, what after making a film together- twice, and oh I don't know, acting like they are in love. False. The awkwardness is just as prevalent, and painful as it was in the first film. Dudes, pull it together. You suck.

I highly enjoyed the wolves in this film. Way to be a pack, and way to be in the movie, whilst keeping me there as well. I enjoyed all the scenes without the vampires. They were the most believable, and the most real. Props.

Again, as a whole I enjoyed the film, and would see it again. Hopefully by the fourth one Bella and Edward won't be so bloody awkward. Thank you, and goodnight.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Guilty Pleasures:

  • Jason Statham
  • CS4
  • Flo Rida
  • Dark Chocolate
  • The Beach
  • Black & White Photography
  • 80's Music
  • Hot Rod
  • Rock Band
  • The Smell of Cedar
  • New York City
  • Ne-Yo
  • Red Shoes
  • Sweet Tomatoes
  • Daisies
  • Violin/Cello
  • Blogging
  • Jackets
  • Art Museums
  • Northern California
  • David Beckham
  • People Watching
  • New York Burrito
  • Old Movies- especially with Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart
  • Pumpkin Flavored Anything
  • Hair Products
  • David Archuleta's Crush (Don't judge me.)
  • Gossip Magazines
Thank you, and goodnight.


Right, now don't take this the wrong way, but today I made a realization that I'm quite happy about. Today I was thinking about mutual acquaintances/friends. Those are always interesting situations. I love playing the insta-friend game. As I was thinking about said relationships, I was thinking about all of the random ways that my life is intertwined with those around me. I know so many people through the friend of a friend of a stranger who I know through a distant high school acquaintance. Or maybe we just had a class together or something. Of all the ways that I know people, I was so happy to realize that I never knew anyone from EFY. Now, I could not tell you why this created such satisfaction inside of my heart. While I think that EFY is a great thing, it was never for me. For several reasons. 1. I always equated EFY with dances. That was no bueno. Ever. I hated stake dances more than most detestable things in life, and on principle swore them off at age 15. 2. I hated the concept of being escorted around everywhere. I can walk by myself, thank you very much. 3. I thought it was nonsensical that a big part of EFY was "hooking up" with some 14-year-old hunk for a week. Now don't get the impression that I am in fact anti-EFY. On the contrary. I think it's a wonderful thing where teenagers can come unto Christ, and gain a testimony of him. Awesome. I just could never take all the excess of nonsense. With that being said, I stand by the fact that I'm so happy that I don't have ties to anyone awkwardly though EFY. One more little accomplishment in the life of Emmilie. Thank you, and goodnight.

Friday, November 20, 2009

Confession Session:

Now, to make my life easier, and the conversations less awkward, I tell people that I am from California. This is what we would call a fallacy.

Fallacy: a mistaken belief. The notion that Emmilie is from California is a fallacy.

I have only lived in California for two weeks of my life. It's fine. Yet it's just so much easier to say that I'm from California. I'm not really from anywhere else. This is why I return to the argument that goes a little something like this. "I'm from America. Eat it." (But people generally want a few more specifics. Selfish.) For the most part this fallacy, or mistaken belief, works out quite nicely. However, someone always seems to know someone from California. That poses a problem for me, because they then proceed to ask me geographical questions about my NOT home state. These are questions that I should know the answers to. Sadly all I really know is that I live in Northern California. San Diego and LA are south. That's all I've got. I've flown into Redding once before. I live next to the ocean. I think that the Oregon border is just a few hours north of me. I really don't know where Riverside is, even though when asked I will always feign recognition and understanding. You see, it's not that I'm a liar. Oh, no. I just refuse to say that I'm from Utah... and I'm not really from anywhere else. The life of a gypsy.... What more can I say? I have learned a lot though. I know that Eureka is different from Yreka. Yreka is north. I also know that Arcata is different from Arcadia. Arcadia is south. That makes me sound a little bit more legit when people ask. I'm basically a work in progress. And maybe someday I will learn the geography of my state. But until then, know that I'm basically a fallacy. Thank you, and goodnight.

Thursday, November 19, 2009


This brought a smile to my face today. Smiles are good things.

Thank you, and goodnight.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009


Okay, so yesterday I had a little field trip to the bank. I met Patrick, and my theory was confirmed. I also came to another little realization. A realization that I had forgotten for a little while. It goes a little something like this: I really am a gypsy. I realized that every time I go to make some important transaction at the bank, or donate blood, or vote, or register for classes, or fill out an insurance waiver, or confirm a reservation, or try to mail a package home, or start a new job, I have to go through at least 4 different addresses to find out which one I last gave them. Take yesterday at the bank: I was closing a CD, and they asked me all of these security questions. I always fail these, and could be considered a high-level security threat because I always tell them the wrong address. They asked me the dreaded question, and I racked my brain to figure out which address I last gave them. I tried my physical address in California, and tried to remember my mailing address... (That's another problem in an of itself... in some places I have two addresses to remember. A PO Box, and a physical address. It's hard enough to remember what my current place of residence is let alone two possible addresses.) Fail. They had me down for an Arizona address. The physical address. It's fine. I sighed in exasperation and told them that we move a lot. Then my personal banker changed it to my California address. Bless him. Then Tommy, my poor personal banker, was bamboozled again when he saw that I had a Utah driver's license with yet another address on it. Sorry Tommy. You'll understand when you're older. Luckily I have tried to gain some semblance of order in my life and am now in possession of a California license. I gave him said license, he made the switcheroo, and I am a little bit closer to fooling the establishment that I am in fact from California. Indeed, it is slightly nonsensical. Please bless that the CIA never has to try to find me. They won't know which address to check first. Thank you, and goodnight.

Breaking Point

Hitting breaking point isn't always the funnest of days. Hitting breaking point is when you worry about your rapidly declining sanity. Hitting breaking point is where you want to punch someone in the face, and visualize what it would look like. Hitting breaking point includes lots of tears. Hitting breaking point requires a lot of introspection. Hitting breaking point increases your heart rate, and therefore convinces me that it will be the death of me at some point. Hitting breaking point makes you irrational and emotional. Hitting breaking point make me irritable. Hitting breaking point gives me a headache. Hitting breaking point requires listening to John Mayer, Coldplay, and Jason Mraz. Hitting breaking point requires lots of faith.

Today I hit breaking point. Thank you, and goodnight.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009


Right, so I have this theory. A theory which was confirmed today while I was at the bank. It goes a little something like this: I'm pretty darn sure that every Wells Fargo in America has an employee named Patrick. Coincidentally, each employee named Patrick likes to play the game called, "Hit on Emmilie." I don't understand this game. Yet it continues to boggle minds everywhere, as it happens every time I walk into a Wells Fargo. Today was no exception. Today I went into Wells Fargo, and guess who happened to work there? Yep. Patrick. And guess what game he played? Answer=yes. And I laugh. And mocked him slightly. It's fine. Next time you go into a Wells Fargo I will bet you 10 dollars that there is an employee named Patrick who may or may not try to hit on you. You have been warned. Thank you, and goodnight.

Sunday, November 15, 2009


This brings happiness to my heart.

Thank you, and goodnight.

Saturday, November 14, 2009


I find it ironic in so many ways that my favorite John Mayer song is in fact, Dreaming with a Broken Heart. Oh, life. You are a trickster.

Thank you, and goodnight.

Friday, November 13, 2009

"Get married or else your life sucks."

Alright. I've finally snapped. Be prepared for a full-fledged rant. Thank you. You have been warned.

Today in my D&C class we talked about dating vs. hanging out. The Brethren have made it quite clear that dating is to be preferred over hanging out. Hanging out can be harmful for young single adults, as it deprives them of one-on-one time with the opposite sex. Thank you Elders Oaks and Ballard. Indeed, marriage is an essential part of our eternal progression, and is very important. Sister Beck said that due to the amount of hanging out, the Church needed to teach more on the doctrine of family, and it's importance. Clearly, this is an issue. I agree that if there is too much hanging out that can be potentially problematic in getting a date. Granted. Man up there, men. Ask the lady out.

Then we delved deeper into the conversation of dating at BYU-Idaho. My professor said this: The reason that the Church spends so much money on education is that they want to create a place where young adults can gather to meet people their age to marry. This apparently is the only reason for the creation of such institutions as BYU, BYU-Idaho, and BYU-Hawaii. Upon hearing this, I had to adamantly disagree. I would like to think that the $1649 I pay each semester for tuition, the $382 I spend on books, and the $1095 I spend on housing is not in fact for me to find a husband, but to gain an education. But our culture, which places so much emphasis on "gaining as much education as possible," ironically, is telling me that I will only have worth if I graduate from this University with a husband. Forget a diploma, as long as you have a husband you will be accepted.

The Oxford English Dictionary defines University as: "The whole body of teachers and scholars engaged, at a particular place, in giving and receiving instruction in the higher branches of learning; such persons associated together as a society or corporate body, with definite organization and acknowledged powers and privileges (esp. that of conferring degrees), and forming an institution for the promotion of education in the higher or more important branches of learning; also, the colleges, buildings, etc., belonging to such a body." Last time I checked, I attend Brigham Young UNIVERSITY Idaho.

How dare you tell me that I am here to get married! How dare you tell me that that is WHY I should be here! Excuse me for wanting an education! Excuse me for wanting to be an educated, contributing member of society! Excuse me for wanting to have a successful career and taking the necessary steps to get there! Pardon me.

Now I will be the first to admit that a University like this is the prime area for young people with similar standards to meet, date, fall in love, and get married. It happens every day. I think it is wonderful. But for someone to have the audacity to tell me that the only reason that a University such as this exists is for people to get married is wrong. And yet, every day, this way of thinking is positively reinforced. I have had teachers tell me that their class secretly is not Acting 121, but rather Dating 101. I have gotten extra credit for going on dates. I have sat in classrooms where the professor has told us that we had to get up and talk to someone in the class whom we have been physically attracted to. (Yes, he was joking, but seriously though.) I have been in classes where we were admonished to take a test early, but not if it got in the way of our Friday Night Date. Things have gotten out of hand.

Has anyone stopped to think about how this maniacal push to get married is becoming more detrimental to us than helpful? Currently, the divorce rate in the United States is 50%. I have heard many a rumor that in the LDS culture this rate is higher. Why is that? Because there are institutions masquerading as Universities that force feed unsuspecting young adults the lie that they must be married to be happy. In a sense, it is almost brainwashing. I was away from BYU-Idaho for almost 10 months. I lived outside of the "Mormon Bubble," as it's called, and experienced the "real world." In those 10 months, I discovered something that I had never known while living in Rexburg. I realized that I was a single daughter of God who had just as much worth as a married daughter of God. Just because I am unmarried does not mean that I fail as an individual. On the contrary, I do great things every day. Great things like strengthening my testimony, building God's kingdom, and realizing who I am. Meanwhile, in that tiny town of Rexburg young couples are committing matrimony far too quickly. They hardly know what they are doing, and know even less about the person they are committing to. Indeed, couples are marrying far too quickly, which in turn lends to the rising divorce rates. It's becoming a vicious cycle. Yet who can blame these poor couples when everywhere they turn, they are having the concepts of dating and marriage shoved down their throats?

In August of 2004, David A. Bednar stated that Brigham Young University-Idaho is a Disciple Preparation Center. In that talk, Elder Bednar talks about how at Universities such as this, we are taught to come unto Christ, gain a better testimony and understanding of him, and learn of him. We learn to become better disciples, and receive the tools and the spiritual preparation in order to help build God's kingdom. While this certainly does include the concept of marriage, that particular concept is not all encompassing. I am convinced that Elder Bednar also meant that gaining an education in a particular field or craft will be beneficial to our overall salvation and discipleship. Surely it does not strictly include marriage.

What about the girl, we'll call her Peg, who graduates with high grades in Elementary Education? She had a terrific time during her four years at BYU-Idaho. She made many friends, went on several dates, and gained many new experiences. She is now student teaching at an Elementary school in Magna, Utah where she will go on to accept an offer to teach there permanently. Now Peg has one flaw. She is unmarried. Do you mean to tell me that after completing her education, graduating with a bachelors, serving faithfully on the Activites Committe in her ward, and participating in a realm of campus activites, Peg failed in her time as a student, simply becuase she did not marry? That is what we are being taught.

Today as I sat during that D&C class, feeling my anger and frustration boil with increasing intensity, my eyes glanced down at the paper of the boy in front of me. This was written on his paper: "Get married or else your life sucks." That is what we are being taught here at BYU-Idaho. Get married or not only will our lives suck, but we will be seen as failures. Quite a daunting lesson.

Thank you, and goodnight.


So God is teaching patience. And it is slightly painful. My mission call is not coming this week either. So I will say what I have been saying for the past month, "Maybe next week." Pray for me. Thank you, and goodnight.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Business Up Front, Party in the Back

I have an FHE brother who is pretty cool. Pretty cool indeed. His name is Stanford. Stanford is from California and likes to surf. Stanford has also reached the "Awesome" status due to the fact that he has in fact successfully grown a mullet. Confession Session: Mullet's are awesome, but they stress me out. There is something so unnatural, and so 1980s about them that it makes me cringe. Now Stanford explained to me how it gets to be a pretty stressful feat sporting such a do. He apparently has to worry about outside forces such as static. "You can't have a staticy mullet. No one wants that!" To this, I promptly laughed out loud. Then Stanford, in all his awesomeness tried for the better part of three minutes to get me to run my fingers through his mullet. To this, I promptly refused. Adamantly. I think he got over it, but to get back at me he started rubbing his mullet all over my arm. To this, I promptly screamed. It's fine. Bless Stanford in all his awesomeness, and his mullet. Thank you, and goodnight.

Monday, November 9, 2009

The Silent Creeper

So I'm sitting in my favorite spot in the library doing my favorite thing. Blogging. Indeed, I should be researching campus crime, or writing a review on Extracts from the Diaries of Adam and Eve, or even working on my synthesis of William's Jim in South America. There are plenty of things that could be occupying my time at the moment, but instead, a random boy sitting adjacent to me is capturing my full attention. Now, one of the reasons I love this spot so much (the breezeway if you must know...) is because it is perfect for a little sport called people watching. This boy, we'll call him Andrew is sitting in one of the chairs, no bag, no tote, no books, no nothing. He is just sitting, checking out every single girl that walks past him. Now, normally when people sit in the breezeway the read, listen to their Ipod, stress about Accounting 201, study for Anatomy and Physiology, or even write an occasional blog or two. But Andrew has other things than school on his mind. They come in the shape of women. I find it absolutely fascinating that he can so unabashedly sit there and prey on women with impressive ease. I guess if you have the spare time, why not? Props to you, Andrew, props to you. So here's to all of you silent creepers out there who in your free time like to check out the opposite sex. Dude, be a little more ninja like. Thank you, and goodnight.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Thank Goodness

I love the atonement so much. Thank goodness for a loving and merciful Heavenly Father. I love him. Thank you, and goodnight.

Wonderful to Me

I stand all amazed at the love Jesus offers me,
Confused at the grace that so fully he proffers me.
I tremble to know that for me he was crucified,
That for me a sinner he suffered, he bled and died.

Oh, it is wonderful that he should care for me
Enough to die for me!
Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me!

I marvel that he should descend from his thrown divine
To rescue a soul so rebellious and proud as mine,
That he should extend his great love unto such as I,
Sufficient to own, to redeem, and to justify.

Oh, it is wonderful that he should care for me
Enough to die for me!
Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me!

I think of his hands pierced and bleeding to pay the debt!
Such mercy, such love and devotion can I forget?
No, no, I will praise and adore at the mercy seat,
Until at the glorified throne I kneel at his feet.

Oh, it is wonderful that he should care for me
Enough to die for me!
Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me!

Such are the feelings of my heart this day. Oh it is wonderful, wonderful to me. Thank you, and goodnight.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Mass Media

This is how I feel everyday in my Mass Media class. Secretly I really like it because it's so nonsensical. Like today I read a hilarious blog, and tried not to laugh out loud. Also, I played with Silly Putty, and made plans to bring coloring books. I took some pictures with my trusty mac, and I ate a giant pixy stick. Oh, never fear. I do in fact know what we talked about. Answer=Public Relations. However, what it is that public relations does I could not tell you. It's alright. Most of the time in Mass Media I online shop. One time I was having a particularly frustrating day, so I shopped for red shoes. Most of the other times I just shop for sweaters or jeans. Sometimes I take sassy pictures like this, and feel narcissistic. Yes, Eric- I admitted it. Some times I have dance parties to "Rock Around the Clock," or we bust it out to that one horrendous "it's just like a Mini Mall" commercial on Youtube. Look it up. Indeed, Mass Media is my relaxing class. It's super chill. And maybe my professor is super hilarious. So that's always a plus. I heart funny professors. And I mean that in the best way possible. Thank you, and goodnight.

Monday, November 2, 2009

Ask Any Mermaid

Right, so we are discussing jingles in my Mass Media class. Naturally, my brain goes immediately to the Chicken of the Sea commercial. Since that first fateful day that I heard the Chicken of the Sea commercial, anytime people talk about tuna it plays in my head for the next four days. Awesome sauce. So now, for the next four days of my life I will have this playing in my head:

"Ask any mermaid you happen to see- what's the best tuna?? Chicken of the Sea!"

Oh snap. Pray for me. Thank you, and goodnight.