I'm Goin' Truck Shopping

            I've had two cars in my life already. My first one was a white, '88 Olds Mobile that my parents gave me for my 16th birthday. The thing was a complete junker: the muffler was noisy; the driver's side seatbelt didn't work; it stalled a few times when gas got too low; the passenger window was broken; my mom forgot it was parked behind her Tahoe once and backed into it, crushing the bumper pretty badly. Although the car was a piece of shit, I loved it because it got me from A to B. Most of the time. And it was my car, I could go wherever I wanted whenever I wanted to. Eventually, I got tired of the thing and passed it to my sister because I got another car.

            My second car is a '96 silvery blue Olds Aurora. This car was the first big payment I ever made; I had been working all summer and I wanted a newer, nicer car. Unfortunately, I wasn't making Bill Gates' salary, so I had to settle for a Craigslist find. Little did I know at the time that you could go to a dealership and have your car completely checked out for like $40; if I had known, I would've gotten that car looked at because it had a lot of problems. The car itself was $1000, and I've had to spend at least double that in repairs over the last 16 months.

            I realize I might sound crazy for saying this, but I really want to get another new car now. I don't want to go for a Craigslist piece of junk. I can't really afford a brand new vehicle either, but I want to get something that will last me more than a year and a half without croaking on me. Since I have more than just a summer job now and I'm continuously making money, it'll be less deadly for me to buy one than it would have been when I bought my Aurora.

            For a long time now I've wanted to get a truck. I hated having a small car, especially when I would be waiting to turn onto a busy street and some huge SUV or something would pull up next to me, blocking my view of the street so I'd have to wait twice as long for a time to go. Plus, a girl driving a huge-ass truck looks pretty BA if you ask me. Or, ask my best friend Kalin; she has one. She was pretty much my inspiration for getting a truck in the first place. The only thing that sucks about a truck is they're pretty big gas hogs. Oh well, they're sexy cars regardless.

            My parents are trying to convince me not to get my dream truck. My dad says it's too expensive and I'll be in way over my head. The thing is though, I don't like having to worry about a new problem with my car every two seconds anymore. I want to be able to go on a road trip without it overheating or beeping at me for the oil pressure being too low, or the orange "service engine soon" light to flash on every time I start the ignition. I want a nice car that can last me a long time.

            I also want to use this truck as a way to be more independent and grown up. It sounds kind of silly, but I haven't really done any "adult" thing yet since my birthday, and I've wanted a truck for a while now. I think my parents can give me feedback and everything all they want, guidance isn't bad either, but I don't think they should completely try to shun the idea from my head. Eventually my current cart is going to croak on me, too, and I don't really want to fork over thousands of dollars a month on a piece of shit when I can spend that much over a few years for something a lot nicer.

Word count: 677

I Have a Problem

            No matter how many times I try telling myself that I NEED to do something, I never come around to it until the last possible minute. I know I've done a post about procrastination already, but it's a topic I have a lot to say about. I have a serious problem with it. I'll write things down in my planner, every day, and I still won't start some assignments until Sunday night, most of the time. And then, I'll be sitting in my room on Sunday, like I am now, freaking out because I only have 'X' number of hours before sleeping must be done, enough so I won't end up dying in class the next morning. I screw myself over pretty much every weekend, yet every Monday I tell myself I won't be doing it the following week and I do anyway.

            I should probably follow my own advice from my pervious post. I don't leave my phone in the other room like I should, probably because I'm waiting for texts that I know won't be coming (:forever alone:). I don't have much self-discipline when it comes to doing homework. I may be doing nothing on Friday night or all day Saturday, but everything else like lying on my bed, scrolling through Twitter or staring off into space sounds so much better than cracking open my 9-and-a-half-pound AP Art History textbook. The biggest reason why I even do my homework on Sunday is because I know I have to and I don't like getting in trouble. I have no self-discipline at all, so starting homework is mentally painful after a weekend of complete laziness.

            I don't just put off homework. With work and school, I don't really have much time to clean my room anymore; it was very clean at one point, but since I work from about the time I get out of school to about nine, then I have to do homework, throwing my dirty clothes on the floor sounds like the fastest, easiest way to start. And by the time the weekend rolls around again, I'm too lazy to pick up my clothes or straighten the contents on my desk to get it back to normal. I'll spend hours cleaning it when I make time but it just gets bad again after a few work days. I should invent a pill to get rid of laziness, but I'm too lazy.

Word count: 410

:Forever Alone:

            Some days, nothing is more depressing than walking the halls at school and observing all those cute little couples holding hands and strolling through the crowd. It's almost as if they're in slow motion like in those chick flicks, with a figurative glow about them. Bleh. Although the scene is utterly sickening, especially when there's smooching going on, it's still something a lot of people, especially girls, I'm sure, wish they could have. Myself included.

            Do you ever have one of those lonely Friday nights, when everyone else out having fun with huge groups of people and you're at home, alone, lying on the couch with a vat of cookies 'n' cream ice cream in your lap, and "How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days" on your T.V.? Yeah, me either. Sounds sad and depressing, right? Those are the nights when you stay up late watching as many romantic comedies as you can because any free time makes you think, and thinking makes you feel even more miserable. Okay, I lied, I was talking about myself here. But still, I'm probably not the only one. I think.

            *One of the things that hurts the most, in my opinion, at least, is when you make plans with someone and they just completely bail out on you. It's one thing if they give you some sort of lame excuse and you can tell they're lying just so they can go to some "cool" party instead or something, but it's a totally different story if they give you no response. At all. It's even worse when THEY are the ones who initiated the "hanging out" in the first place! I'm like, really? Is that the kind of friend you are? If that's the case then I'm glad to know now. I would expect something like this more from guys or something, not someone who was supposed to be my "best friend".

            I swear, the older I get the more I realize that female best friends are not the answer. Male best friends are definitely the way to go. I think. I wouldn't really know because I've never had one, but I've had a lot of best friends that were girls and they always fucked me over, for one reason or another. There's a lot less drama with guys, unless he ends up falling for you or vise versa and the other doesn't feel the same way, blah, blah, blah. If you can find a guy friend that will go shopping with you, watch sappy movies with you, and listen when you call him at night, crying because you're feeling forever alone, then he's a keeper. And who knows, maybe things will turn out and he will take care of your forever-alone-ness. I'll get right on that.

            *I apologize for my ranting session. Girls are bitches.

Word count: 481

Palisades Park

            I’ve just recently ventured out to the Palisades and let me tell you, it’s a very beautiful place. As I was there I kept thinking, Damn, why don’t I have a camera or my sketchbook here with me? I couldn’t think of a better time to go than in the fall either, with the leaves both still on the trees and creating a crunchy blanket covering the trails and rocks. The paths twist and curve around and over the hills and between the tall trees, through deep valleys and along a sandy riverbank. The stream-like trails had the occasional curl of tree root sticking out of the earth, creating a dangerous entanglement for my ankles, but I managed. The moss-covered rocks hidden by the slick leaves didn’t help my footing either.

            The bank along the river was a mixture of coarse and fine sand and pebbles, miniature shells and rounded stones, scratched, broken glass shards and rusted metal pieces scattered amongst the weeds and sticks. Despite the dullness of color on the beach, it was beautiful. The sound of the current washing up onto the sandbars was peaceful and calming; the wind whisked my hair in tendrils around my face. I couldn’t help but watch the dogs run around, splashing in the water, trotting in the sand chasing sticks and Frisbees.

            My favorite spot on the section of trail I explored was in the center of a valley at a small stone bridge with a thin stream flowing underneath it. The water tinkled over the smooth stones. The trees surrounding the shallow chasm looked abnormally tall and slender from the bottom as I glanced up; I watched as the leaves broke from their stick arms and floated in the light breeze to join the others resting on the valley floor. The wind seemed to sing rather than whistle, mixing up the leaf blanket into spirals. The stone ridges up the valley walls were coated with moss and foliage, filling the space with a mixture of color and texture.

            At the top of the hill sat a rock gazebo structure, looking out to the rippling river. It jutted out past the edge of the cliff face with trees filling in the space blow, creating a web of branches. The cliffs on the other side of the river wove in and out of the rock like an unevenly cut basket, some pieces extending further out than others. The tops were roofed by forest and small wooden cabins and houses sprinkled among the trees.

            If you’re looking for a calm, pretty place to get away for a while and go for a walk, the Palisades is the place to go. Make sure you bring your good walking shoes and a camera.

Word count: 471

Cough, Cough

            
            It's coming onto flu season, which means lots of runny noses, coughing attacks, and people blessing the lord when you spray snot all over the place. I think the most awkward thing about flu season is when you're hacking your lungs out in the middle of class. It always happens to hit when the class is during silent reading or a test or something. As you're sitting there, heaving and wheezing and panting, everyone else in the room sits there silently until someone speaks up as asks if you're okay. Does it sound like I'm okay? It’s bad enough that I'm over here dying. I'd much rather die coughing than have you ask me that question. I don’t know for sure why having a coughing attack in class bothers me so much. Maybe it’s because I’d rather hack up my lungs in private. Or, at least not as loudly or disruptive.

           

            I also try really hard not to sneeze in class. Of course, I always have to sneeze when the class is quiet, naturally. I’ve observed some nasty experiences with other people sneezing in class before, not to mention extremely messy. I’ve also noticed that the “cool” kids have everyone praising the lord whenever they sneeze in class. It’s like their hearts stopped longer than a fraction of a second and they were about to die because they sneezed. Now, the average souls like me, if I were to actually let it go in class, don’t get any sort of “bless you!” very much. It’s also very difficult to hold back a sneeze without making some kind of honking noise or just looking stupid as your whole body twitches with the force of it. Or, you could accidentally let go at the other end…not me, personally. But I’ve heard it happen and I felt bad for the kid.

Word count: 317

Being Ignored Kind of Sucks

            Do you ever want to talk to someone really bad, but you're at war with yourself because you don't want to annoy them? Yeah, me, too. Eventually you give in, you text them and get nothing back after a long time, if at all; it hurts, right? Especially when you know that they're the kind of person who always has their phone attached to their hip. Being ignored sucks. Sometimes you just want to go full stalker mode and talk to their friends, find out what they're doing, why they aren't texting you. It's a girl thing. Or maybe it's just me and I'm some kind of stalker freak, I don't know. But I'm sure I'm not the only one who's felt the sting of being ignored by someone whom you really want to talk to.

            One of the worst feelings is when they initiate hanging out with you sometime earlier that week or even earlier in the day, and then when it comes time to when they wanted to hang out, they suddenly fall off the face of the earth. No amount of texts or phone calls will work. You're sitting there pouting because you got your hopes up and your makeup all done. You go back into that vicious circle of internally beating yourself up because you want to keep texting them, hoping they'll take the necessary 30 seconds to type out a response. That's what I don't understand: unless you're asleep or at work where you can't have a phone out or something along those lines, I doubt anyone is so busy all day long that they can't take a simple 30 seconds to a minute, at most, to at least say hey. Men, I swear. They just don't get it.

            Another issue is when you're hanging out with a friend, and they're constantly texting their significant other. The catch is, when they're hanging out with said other, obviously they're "way too busy" to text you, right? Wrong. That's total bullshit in my opinion. And, quite frankly, it's really inconsiderate. Why even hang out if you're just going to be talking to a billion other people, but then ignore everyone else when you're with that one "special" person? I realize the person they're with might not appreciate them texting either, but why should they think it's okay to do one thing to one person or not the other? It's just not fair. I hope some of you can relate to my little ranting session.

Word count: 423

Gotta Love My Job

            I love my job. I work at Gordmans, which mostly harbors clothing, but we sell a lot more than just that. It’s pretty damn cheap, too, which makes everything a win-win. I really enjoy working there because my fellow associates are really friendly and fun to be around. I always check the schedule on days I work to see which of my “work buddies”, as I call them, I’m going to be basically hanging out with that day. I work in the fitting rooms which is basically the store’s little hang-out nook. All my buddies filter in throughout the shift and we engage in hilarious discussions, which sometimes get us into trouble if a manager on duty happens to venture in at the wrong moment. I’m kind of crazy, so I provide the witty outbursts most of the time. I think it’s pretty cool how welcoming everyone is there, and I’ve made an awful lot of new friends of many ages in my short eight months there.

            Gordmans is a very dangerous place to work because, since it’s my favorite store, I tend to blow my entire paycheck there. And, since I’m stuck in the fitting room, I see pretty much every article of clothing that flows through that store. I don’t even have to leave my workspace to do my shopping because I see so many cute things as I’m organizing and putting things back. I think I’ve purchased about nine or ten pairs of jeans and possibly a dozen shirts, four wallets, three purses, about ten bags of gummy bears, and five pairs of shoes in the last three months. This may sound like a huge hole in my pocket waiting to happen, but the cheap prices combined with my 20%-off discount have actually saved me a lot.

            I think the greatest thing I’ve gotten out of working at Gordmans is my increased social skills. I used to be a really shy, quiet person, and getting a job where I had to talk to people freaked me out. Then one day they sprang the concept of having to answer the phone on me and I about shit in my pants. Now that I think about it, I’m glad they did that. I’m much more open to conversing with people now, whether I know them personally or not. I can have a full conversation with a complete stranger while they’re waiting for someone to try on clothes and have it not feel awkward or forced. It has also helped me be social more outside of the workplace as well; I’ll strike up conversations with people pretty much anywhere, with anybody willing to talk. I thank Gordmans for my new confidence in being a social butterfly instead of a hermit like I used to be.

Word count: 473

Blogging is Kinda Tough

            I’m pretty sure the first time I ever heard of a blog was from the movie Julie and Julia; it was about a woman who blogged every day about how she would try and recreate Julia Child’s recipes from her cookbooks. (For those of you who don’t know, Julia Child was a chef back in the day. She’s dead now, I believe.) Anyways, she was a great cook and Julie decided to blog about it. In AP Lang, when Mizzay told us we had to blog, I figured I could write the way Julie did in that movie: maybe recreate dishes and post about it. I later found out while writing, that that kind of blog was kind of boring, to be honest. I figured that topic was a little more suitable for older women. Not old, older. Like my mother or something so she could learn new meals to make for dinner.

            I fiddled around in my brain for things to write about for my blog and I got seriously stumped. Blogging is hard! Ranting on and on about something you’re interested in is a figurative piece of cake, but coming up with funny, interesting, or serious topics is tough. I thought it would be easy to blog about things a high-school kid or just any teenager would find helpful or interesting to read about. Seeing is how I am a teenager, I assumed it would be easier to plug into Word and have it come out more tangible than learning new recipes for exotic dishes. Turns out, I was right, in a way.

            Writing about real things we go through as teenagers helps me, even as the writer, because I feel like I mature a little as I’m explaining things. In my previous posts about procrastination, bullying, dealing with the different personalities and styles of those hallway-walkers, homecoming issues, I feel like I’m taking my own advice as I give it. Even though we’re not supposed to blog like it’s a diary entry, I think writing from our own experiences and views on things makes the topics more relatable to our audiences.

Word count: 378

The Big 18!!!

            Tomorrow is my 18^th birthday. Not only is this birthday a huge milestone, but it opens up a whole new door of opportunities and experiences for me. One, obviously, is the chance to vote in this upcoming election. Now, I’m not really much of a politics junkie, (frankly, they piss me off a lot) but I’m still going to participate because, well, I can. I want to go through the whole voting experience. Unfortunately, not all kids in my grade can vote this year, but it’s pretty cool that I get to.

            Everyone’s seen those info-mercials for products they sell on T.V., right? Like all those fancy cooking appliances, exercise programs and videos, wrinkle/acne regiments. At the end of the commercial they say, “You must 18 or older to call!” Now that I’ll be 18, I can call to order anything I want from those commercials, probably from the very first one I see. It doesn’t matter what they’re selling, how much it is, whatever; I’m going to buy it simply because I can. You might be thinking, ‘Emily, you’re crazy; don’t waste your money on stupid stuff!’ Yeah, I know it’s stupid. That’s partially why I’m going to do it. I’ll find someone to give it to eventually, unless it’s something super awesome.

            I think the most exciting, yet also the most frightening aspect of turning 18 is the fact that I’m an adult now. That means I can do anything I want, (without crossing the line and ending up in the back of a cop car, of course) and I no longer have to ask for permission. I’m more independent. I can go get a tattoo if I want to, or pierce every square inch of my body. Not like I’d ever do that, but, still, I could. I can be out at any hour without having to worry about the cops dragging my underage ass back to my door; that’s never actually happened but since I’ll be 18 it won’t anyway.

            My newly-found independence has its drawbacks though: I can’t rely on my parents to do everything for me. Well, I probably could, but I doubt they’d continue to provide for me 100%, seeing is how I have a job and am a legal adult. Anyways, I’m a little afraid that my mom and dad are suddenly going to kick my ass out the front door tomorrow morning because I’m no longer a child. I don’t think I’m ready to be out on my own yet; I’m pretty thankful that my birthday falls at the beginning of the school year so I still have an excuse to live at home. Even though I’ll be an adult in T-minus-24-hours, I don’t think I’m quite ready to do adult things yet. I’m still a teenager.

Word count: 466

Sometimes I Wish I Was an Only Child...Maybe

It kind of sucks being the oldest child. The oldest of four, to be exact. You'd think that it'd be awesome to boss the kids around, tell 'em what to do, take charge. But, no. I actually get in trouble for a lot of things, especially when I try to discipline my younger siblings when they're beating each other with plastic toys and various other items. "You're not their parent so you shouldn't be the one disciplining them," so my mother says. It's kind of hard not to intervene when they're screaming at each other when I'm trying to do homework or something. My brother thinks it's funny to simply hit my little sister in the face because he finds it funny when she cries. I, however, do not like it when she wails at the top of her lungs, face purple and fists clenched at her sides, stomping down the hallway. I mean, yeah, she's six, but she should know better. My brother should also know that I could beat his ass at any time for making her scream like that. He skates on thin ice a little too much.

            My other sister is a year younger than me. That might sound great because we're so close in age and we must have so much in common, right? Wrong. My sister is probably the complete opposite of me. Even though we have some similarities, we tend to disagree on things more often than not. We're also highly competitive about everything. If one of us gets something really awesome, like a new phone, for example, the other must get the same thing or it turns into World War III. The playing field must always be even or else it's on. Since we're so close in age, our parents tend to compare us a lot, too. That hits a nerve occasionally, especially when one of us has done something better or worse than the other. Apparently, we can't have any of the same friends either because we end up fighting for attention, and then the friend would have to choose sides and it just becomes a big mess. I always wondered what it would be like to have a twin, but since my sister and I are so close already, I don't think I want to know.

            Having younger siblings isn't always bad. Sometimes it's nice sticking up for the little ones when one of their friends is being a pest, or being there for my sister when she's having boy troubles. I've seen movies where the little brother/sister sneaks into their big sibling's room during a thunderstorm or after a bad dream, and I always wanted them to do that because it would show that they trust me to take care of them. I feel like a role model for them because I'm the oldest, and I think it's cool that they look up to me sometimes; not so much my other sister because, well, she's actually a little taller than me...Regardless, even though having so many siblings is tough, I still love them, and I wouldn't trade them for anything.

           

Word count: 521

              

Confessions of a Big Girl

            I was always the chubby kid in school, always the biggest girl in my group of friends. It's hard. It's harder than a lot of people understand. As a kid I was judged a lot, made fun of because I couldn't do push-ups in gym class or had a long mile-run time, or I had to get the large t-shirts for fields trips. I had major self-esteem issues for years, and once I got into high school I realized something; it doesn't matter what those people say. I'll never see most of them ever again after high school, many of them have absolutely nothing to do with me or my life, why should I listen to them? The answer is, I shouldn't. And I still don't.

            Obesity has become a problem, I understand. But just because someone is overweight, doesn't make them disgusting or unattractive. I know we've all heard 'everyone is beautiful in their own way' to some extent, and yeah, it's cliché, but, coming from a girl who never really felt beautiful until high school, I believe that now. As long as you, personally, think you yourself is beautiful, then who-the-hell cares what some bitch at school thinks?

            I've grown to be more confident, now that I've accepted myself the way that I am. Since I've become more confident, I've also gotten more friends because I can be more open around other people. I act completely crazy around strangers now because I don't care about what they think about me; it doesn't matter. I think that if a lot more people, especially teenagers, accept themselves for who they are and don't hide their true personality in front of others, they would be amazed at how much better they feel. I look back now and I think of how stupid I was for not coming out of my shell sooner. Granted, I've met many new people now that I hadn't known back then, but if I wasn't more outgoing now, I don't think I would be as close to a lot of those people.

            It's hard letting your walls down; it took me 16 years and sometimes I still feel like building them again. But I think before doing so, where would I be right now if I hadn't taken that risk, opened myself up? I'd probably be in my bedroom with a tub of chocolate ice cream watching The Notebook with my Yorkie. I know I'm not the smallest girl in the world, but that doesn't mean that I can't be confident enough to be myself outside of the privacy of my household.

Word count: 456 

Senior Year!

That's right! We all know that means cramming those last required classes, missing sleep because of too many AP courses, senior pranks, senior pictures, prom, and major senioritis, pretty much all year long. It's unfortunate that the past three years have already gone by so fast; I remember what I wore on my very first day of high school. As a naive freshman walking through the halls for the first time, I was scared to death of what high school would bring me. Now, as a senior, I'm always thinking about what things I want to carry on with me once I leave. It makes me sad that this year is already going by quickly. Before we all know it, we'll be dumped off at some college's doorstep.

            I know a lot of kids are taking advantage of senior year and having as much fun as they can because everyone knows "yolo" -- honestly, that word drives me nuts, but the words are important. The phrase "you only live once" doesn't mean partying hard every night, getting stoned off your ass, sleeping with as many people as you can, or getting "wastey-pants!" all the time. It means do things that are actually worth your time and beneficial to you. There are so many better things to do: spending time with friends, going to football games, see movies, anything that doesn't danger you or other people. Senior year only happens once, or should, anyway, and it should be remembered instead of having to be told by sober people who watched you be an idiot. You do only live once; don't waste your time.

            I want to remember all the struggles I went through my senior year: staying up late finishing homework every night, waking up early for zero hour, having to stay after school to finish assignments, not being able to see my friends because of having to work and focus on school, trying to squeeze in a nap every now and then. I want to remember these because at the end of the year I'll be able to see how I've grown as a student and ultimately as a person throughout my high school years.

Word count: 382