tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36009039815957930322024-03-18T21:11:26.347-07:00Elm-BitsBits and pieces of a strange and unfamiliar lifeElmpixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644505247333312292noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600903981595793032.post-87861114859593263252008-12-07T01:33:00.000-08:002008-12-07T02:11:11.450-08:00One semester.I don't know where to start. This isn't going to be long, I'm just going to do a quick update. I just heard from a great old friend and all it did was start me sobbing. I'm back in that space where I think "I hate my life" and the next thought isn't immediately "Oh God, stop being melodramatic". <div>Lets just say, Stony Brook hasn't exactly been a dream. I have friends, don't get me wrong, good friends, great friends. But I've been to one party this year so far, ONE. Other than Halloween which sucked (besides our costumes) and the one had 7 people. And those 7 are the total of who I know. It's like I can't get anything right. </div><div>Everyday I wake up, and can barely get out of bed, in fact, most days I don't. Instead, I sit around and watch TV, because if I'm not occupying my brain, I'm crying. I'm still pining for a purpose, for a task, for something to be good at, and I can't seem to get my life together without that. I don't remember that last time I genuinely smiled. My back is killing me all the time, and I'm so weak my walk to classes tires me out when I even go. </div><div>I'm going to start piano again next semester, or at least I say I will, but who knows. I need to be doing something, I just have NO idea what. <br /></div><div>Somehow, no matter how many fresh chances I get, I can't seem to get it right. </div><div>I wish I knew what I was doing wrong all the time, I can't even look in the mirror without wanting to throw up. <br />I haven't felt this bad since junior year of high-school.<br />I'm not trying to worry any-one, in fact, there's nothing to worry about. I learned that lesson a long time ago. </div><div><br /></div><div>This is just a quick update cause I have so few friends I realized I need to keep in touch with my old ones. And I'm tired of telling the same thing over and over again. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'll get it right eventually, I just wish one thing could be right. My health, Jeston, my school, my friends, my fun, just one. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I was trying to think of the last time I was happy, for more than a couple weeks at a time and on vacation, and I realized it's been three years, three long long years. I don't want to live like this anymore. </div><div><br /></div><div>More later. Sorry it's been so long. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Elmpixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644505247333312292noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600903981595793032.post-68827741076875206342008-08-21T21:47:00.000-07:002008-08-22T00:41:10.966-07:00YubaToday was hectic, waking at 6:30, going to my sisters to shove everything ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING I own into two cars, and then driving to sacramento. 15 minutes with Liva, 30 minutes with Kaitlyn, Millet Burger at the BEST RESTAURANT EVER Sunflower Drive In, drive to Nevada City, then Craft store (had to grab something for a swap on Craftster.org), local wifi cafe (forgot the address for sending on the Craftster swap) then post office and then finally... FINALLY! the Yuba River... and I got to plunge my entire body into that heavy, cool, dark, green water, and suddenly, feel human again for the first time in I don't know how long. Now, my entire body hurts from hitting it seems every part of my body on a different hot and glorious granite boulder, and I'm going to have more bruises than I can count, but it was worth it... it was worth EVERY BRUISE AND BUMP, it was worth all the bruises in the world after that first plunge, feeling the water close over my head.<br /><br />The Yuba is a wonderland. Cool green pools surrounded by huge white granite boulders and separated by rapids that look tame, but watch your step! J and I were at the CA-49 Bridge (click<a href="http://aconstantradio.blogspot.com/2008/08/early-morning-drive-to-wonderful-place.html"> here</a> to read his account of it... it was his first time), one of my favorite spots just because there's a place slightly upriver of the bridge where the smooth granite make tunnels and slides, and you can float on the current underneath boulders so big you feel like an ant. <div><br /></div><div>We also played with the flat river rocks, building towers and balancing them on their points (more on this tomorrow). </div><div><br /></div><div>Now I'm at Kurt's until saturday. One more day of river bliss (plus I get to see my chiropractor, a.k.a back-guru a.k.a the-man-who-always-made-all-my-booboos-go-away tomorrow!) and then one day of intense all day packing. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm also trying to reach out to my father, (in case you're confused, Kurt is my father, and for reason's we don't need to go into now I've never called him anything but Kurt) and get to know him for the first time ever... and I really mean EVER. This should be an interesting few days. </div><div><br /></div><div>J started a blog today, I hope he can keep it up! I love reading what he writes, particularly when it's about a day or event I was with him for. Go check it out! </div><div>www.aconstantradio.blogspot.com</div>Elmpixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644505247333312292noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600903981595793032.post-19453780832998550672008-08-17T23:59:00.001-07:002008-08-17T23:59:48.165-07:00J, so charmingJ, the charmer that he is, said recently (after eating something that made his stomach frequently expel large and smelly amounts of methane) “I’m sorry, it appears that I am breeding a sulpher baby in my ass”<br /><br />I have so much to do in the next couple weeks, I will certainly not be writing too much... but I'll do what I can...<br /><br />I can't believe how soon I'm leaving for NY.Elmpixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644505247333312292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600903981595793032.post-1065775323459729102008-08-14T23:28:00.000-07:002008-08-15T00:31:00.934-07:00Rippling MusclesI love watching the olympics. My favorites are Gymnastics, Diving, and of course Swimming. I love watching their bodies. All of these Olympians have the most amazing bodies, firm and toned and every muscle rippling, but my fascination is beyond that. My biggest amazement is with the difference in the body types. The shoulders of the swimmers, the legs of the female gymnasts, the upper arms of the male gymnasts, the chests of the shot-putters. <div><br /></div><div>Also, how the hell did someone look at a horizontal bar and think, "I bet, if I train my body till it's completely abnormal, and trained to the hardest it possibly can be, I can fling my whole body around in death defying twists" </div><div><br /></div><div>Now, back to watching the amazing Nastia Liukin. </div>Elmpixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644505247333312292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600903981595793032.post-86514062237911890992008-08-11T23:48:00.000-07:002008-08-12T00:24:28.200-07:00Shell BeachIs wonderful. I can't think of many places I love more. Unfortunately it just left me MORE sunburned. Vacationing is so nice, good food with no thoughts of weight, sitting in the sun and sand for hours without thought of things to do tomorrow...<div><br /></div><div>I'm going to sleep on account of spending all day in the water and the sun. I love Point Reyes. </div><div><br /></div><div>Some obligatory pictures:</div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV1pMhpr20hywFVffmcVQVHFKZYRaSI5zFJLrYXbeH0wgy9jn26rRvQnEmZKYM00jMRpDFs0vBf3NlTC6Fp_tcSIxa4CP3ggSQJ9sA9XRa6J92qgtLPDd0h8sjh-dd22TbBaXdBdg5bv_Y/s1600-h/IMG_0005.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV1pMhpr20hywFVffmcVQVHFKZYRaSI5zFJLrYXbeH0wgy9jn26rRvQnEmZKYM00jMRpDFs0vBf3NlTC6Fp_tcSIxa4CP3ggSQJ9sA9XRa6J92qgtLPDd0h8sjh-dd22TbBaXdBdg5bv_Y/s320/IMG_0005.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233523695715439970" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjApiefb5LvheQ-JFAcnD_MyTB-SgqCnpSXf95G3FxtuNrrat3gq1FWRA0x-O8jcWOQNiA97ByHqBJBMLiomCCr2Ij9ecAoPF19vVYKq76J29HvgglXfYHoVWJxw_VzLm6c2UCZm1kwOAaD/s1600-h/IMG_0008_2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjApiefb5LvheQ-JFAcnD_MyTB-SgqCnpSXf95G3FxtuNrrat3gq1FWRA0x-O8jcWOQNiA97ByHqBJBMLiomCCr2Ij9ecAoPF19vVYKq76J29HvgglXfYHoVWJxw_VzLm6c2UCZm1kwOAaD/s320/IMG_0008_2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233523701873628306" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9K_1Wg4kRxAvpvnvsADGq0l_whRdqROuWaD4CDxwVgtPNKQFWCEBAwK_3l2KR8QpAhG2tEy3hK84rs5LI8NZDfNyy24SZhK9m7yh8fE4X671zDahOTuXt36bl_BFeEWOPZCo9ctR-e5iA/s1600-h/IMG_0016.JPG" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3N2_hsyRoSOUrRxAyFzPwJ3BJFPAw0WlkWPgIHvFKE-n8vN7dJsiMonr5gy1JJfah5tugHdpUkCRVdJvgiMU-zehOCNj1eoNzr2eB9JwL-8cNo1A9LJbpIgCPAv5y1DvBVLDRI8xXMj9H/s1600-h/IMG_0021.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3N2_hsyRoSOUrRxAyFzPwJ3BJFPAw0WlkWPgIHvFKE-n8vN7dJsiMonr5gy1JJfah5tugHdpUkCRVdJvgiMU-zehOCNj1eoNzr2eB9JwL-8cNo1A9LJbpIgCPAv5y1DvBVLDRI8xXMj9H/s320/IMG_0021.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233523723654840466" /></a>Fluffy sunset... that's the only way I can explain it. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0l_9op8JtzWf27nAuaXBB9LClQi8tE9qzPfM61Dn_HnuYjAawwkVlaHyCx4FdRWsu31mUWqGV_hpFvZf8j7gkoBlcuHSh8fM37vh-EhV3UCHpYY-gbaRA3RApdvtji69CsC4BB0EfLUK6/s1600-h/IMG_0028.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0l_9op8JtzWf27nAuaXBB9LClQi8tE9qzPfM61Dn_HnuYjAawwkVlaHyCx4FdRWsu31mUWqGV_hpFvZf8j7gkoBlcuHSh8fM37vh-EhV3UCHpYY-gbaRA3RApdvtji69CsC4BB0EfLUK6/s320/IMG_0028.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233523727295962258" /></a>We played Scrabble. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4n1D5oCfG7mHhAxK5GI79WhbCX1zOFT1z9Ck7OCfCZlrn1qjerRo5JO7LDy5lBsOEV8P-RXgoR2pUU2PmR0w1hS5cO2MEpTlObJlk5CyrjfR5K55IOWJ07PnWNpeBS3rhuFODEKXSD0u_/s1600-h/IMG_0036.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4n1D5oCfG7mHhAxK5GI79WhbCX1zOFT1z9Ck7OCfCZlrn1qjerRo5JO7LDy5lBsOEV8P-RXgoR2pUU2PmR0w1hS5cO2MEpTlObJlk5CyrjfR5K55IOWJ07PnWNpeBS3rhuFODEKXSD0u_/s320/IMG_0036.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233527879872697858" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtejpiFKAXXuffoS5ZpyLQ5aJTcQVaW8H92eH81o6w-99VP0_WdRrbudjbAXYRHYpDY0Sps_-QZyiVJYx3UI9qduVAVBvAnJYsD4bAoxEo9fkY3Ibopca2ZGqjADUGAeMjTfGnRjavGbIh/s1600-h/IMG_0040.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtejpiFKAXXuffoS5ZpyLQ5aJTcQVaW8H92eH81o6w-99VP0_WdRrbudjbAXYRHYpDY0Sps_-QZyiVJYx3UI9qduVAVBvAnJYsD4bAoxEo9fkY3Ibopca2ZGqjADUGAeMjTfGnRjavGbIh/s320/IMG_0040.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233527880869176594" /></a>And my favorite picture of J EVER. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUbiLKvJkuJsOR7AOIhfU5v_WgnqTeSU2airKGgmehjLd13bllJNb0SIDGAj_15_mugJ8Nf6wNnq-khw1i1LhvnQ6oPSC3wEieo-EoE-3H6rXc4nNrHXIzmPMfy-Q5dDmxz_y11l8Z60WR/s1600-h/IMG_0049.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUbiLKvJkuJsOR7AOIhfU5v_WgnqTeSU2airKGgmehjLd13bllJNb0SIDGAj_15_mugJ8Nf6wNnq-khw1i1LhvnQ6oPSC3wEieo-EoE-3H6rXc4nNrHXIzmPMfy-Q5dDmxz_y11l8Z60WR/s320/IMG_0049.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233527889369563186" /></a>Elmpixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644505247333312292noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600903981595793032.post-90944767933150605532008-08-10T23:12:00.000-07:002008-08-11T00:07:48.140-07:00My new favorite thing.This sign in San Francisco. <div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmd-ZXe8tdgpVF_y8j4KOkiTBbDaEYbwNj_Ad7C3pGSEvpobAhcpdNd_bH4r5i1F3QEX1YgzbYEwr0L-DHs6fXnaz0MDBhA4__SBc89lL14mjzyc_SLONZo6xQ1dhyphenhyphenpSlzWP5CfZCEeVeZ/s1600-h/IMG_0002.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmd-ZXe8tdgpVF_y8j4KOkiTBbDaEYbwNj_Ad7C3pGSEvpobAhcpdNd_bH4r5i1F3QEX1YgzbYEwr0L-DHs6fXnaz0MDBhA4__SBc89lL14mjzyc_SLONZo6xQ1dhyphenhyphenpSlzWP5CfZCEeVeZ/s320/IMG_0002.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5233148262942605874" /></a><div>What is a "Paint Research Laboratory" what goes on there, and if you are a "Paint Research Laboratory" can't you repaint your own sign?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Plans changed, and I'm staying in Point Reyes with J until wednesday. This is both good, and well, interesting. My mom and J have not really spent any time together in the past, and so this will be exactly that... interesting. At least I got to spend all day at Drakes Beach today, with sun and surf... me and J stayed in the (freezing) water for over 30 minutes riding the waves and splashing each other, then spent the rest of the time soaking in some sun. Even J, who is whiter than a ghost took off his shirt and got a little color. Hopefully we'll get to go to the bay tomorrow where it's supposedly warm enough to swim laps. </div><div><br /></div><div>One more terribly scary thing that happened today, for a whole bunch of reasons that I will go into soon, my father (and if you know me you know that my father and I don't exactly have the best relationship) is going to take me and J to college. Whoa. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now I need to go sleep off my bright red sunburn. </div>Elmpixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644505247333312292noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600903981595793032.post-91775888565072415872008-08-08T23:52:00.000-07:002008-08-09T00:05:03.101-07:00The last and next few weeks.I hate moving. I've moved about 6 times in the last 1 1/2 years. I moved again today, but not to anywhere, just putting everything I own in two cars. I'm at my mom's now, then camping, then my sisters and a few more days of work, then my dad's, and then J's, and then fly to NY. Not a minutes rest for me and I'm already stressed to the bone. I'm leaving my home, my city, my coast, my family, the few friends I have, going to NY, to college (which did NOT work out so well last time) and J and I aren't even doing too well. <div><br /></div><div>All in all, not a very good few weeks. And the forecast is not looking too bright for the future either. Hopefully camping will help. Cool fresh water, sun, trees and mountains, and a little bit of privacy with J for the first time in about 8 months. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'll write when I can. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Elmpixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644505247333312292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600903981595793032.post-58344283211733372142008-08-01T21:17:00.001-07:002008-08-01T21:38:14.489-07:00Dream I dreamt last night that J and I had broken up, I was dating someone else, and that someone else (somewhat modeled in this dream on an old boyfriend Joel) asked me to marry him, and I said yes, and as I walked down the aisle I couldn't keep going and I turned around and left because I was still in love with J. If that doesn't negate all the problems I've had with J lately, and prove that we should tough the hard stuff out, I don't know what does. <div><br /></div><div>I'm behind on posting because the last few days have been totally insane. Hopefully I'll have time and energy to post tomorrow. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Elmpixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644505247333312292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600903981595793032.post-38461679506034827402008-07-26T20:03:00.000-07:002008-07-27T13:54:13.920-07:00SOLUTIONSAfter spending the last couple of days frantically working on the box for the Box Show (it's done and turned in and I will post pictures after I see it hung and in the gallery) I can officially barely move. Seriously, it's official now... not capable of movement. There's even a sign and everything. It's taped to my forehead and is says "NO MOVEMENT, PLEASE DO NOT MOVE". I need to come up with a better system for doing crafts, because sitting at a table or on the floor, hunched over for hours at a time is not doing good for me. Any suggestions?<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>A couple of days ago I did something that I often do, and I continue to amaze myself with. I can problem solve just about anything. So J ran out of gas, wait... in-fact, now that I'm thinking about it, J's been having a lot of car problems lately, the transmission hasn't been working correctly (at least we think it's the transmission) he got his car towed a few days ago, then he ran out of gas, then yesterday, he got in a fender bender while driving MY car... (fortunately no big deal, though it did freak me out some)... ANYWAY, back to my story, J ran out of gas, right in front of my work, and promptly took my car to go get a gallon. When he got back and tried to start filling however, he dropped the filler thing into the bottom of the gallon of gas, and sat there unable to fill his tank, considering going back to the gas station and buying another gallon. I came up with a better solution, with a pen, a water bottle, and some tape. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>The Contraption...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4VtVax_J7rol4ehI7mLh8LGeR4nFekprQaHwK-Ffnn7qI94xCMox0-xCXwvYDnnCRGaBwXR69z6t9K9oZfcy6jMu4ul1NVisEinsKVfeWPAt33dRi-ZjeABxQdLD8kHTzkosWY6OWi2tH/s1600-h/IMG_0017.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4VtVax_J7rol4ehI7mLh8LGeR4nFekprQaHwK-Ffnn7qI94xCMox0-xCXwvYDnnCRGaBwXR69z6t9K9oZfcy6jMu4ul1NVisEinsKVfeWPAt33dRi-ZjeABxQdLD8kHTzkosWY6OWi2tH/s320/IMG_0017.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227798276662028594" /></a><br /><div>I want someone to come up with a game show where the contestants have to solve a problem in a room full of office supplies, or a fabric store, or a basic kitchen, or something like that. I would kick BUTT at that. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div>The Proof<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDoglLcfLUH9c2FRp53qa53WNDka-oa1_61c8NQtdX4EEm92mLp87fcmoeTDiGkryxcFxwSOn9UoDQWfcpAZCWMxjvszB-J5oT8VVqfN0mwHln6FKfg7kZYvD5FO6cuA1tewfh8HeY9yPM/s1600-h/IMG_0016.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDoglLcfLUH9c2FRp53qa53WNDka-oa1_61c8NQtdX4EEm92mLp87fcmoeTDiGkryxcFxwSOn9UoDQWfcpAZCWMxjvszB-J5oT8VVqfN0mwHln6FKfg7kZYvD5FO6cuA1tewfh8HeY9yPM/s320/IMG_0016.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227798283431621538" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>More proof...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHTuh1z3RxC7Pq-NFGC_u3lM0ZuQ6kFMugtP6TnacYTw93u0vm9YPxWD0tVIGF5BbdZr9UOea4p2Jpe-0kn8uLKghooTSO3mvl09yEaGgCL3N6mkzKjUwzJIGGggqK7UwSc_wVJpxurVz3/s1600-h/IMG_0015.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHTuh1z3RxC7Pq-NFGC_u3lM0ZuQ6kFMugtP6TnacYTw93u0vm9YPxWD0tVIGF5BbdZr9UOea4p2Jpe-0kn8uLKghooTSO3mvl09yEaGgCL3N6mkzKjUwzJIGGggqK7UwSc_wVJpxurVz3/s320/IMG_0015.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227798292074617394" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Elmpixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644505247333312292noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600903981595793032.post-34734914682364386972008-07-24T03:12:00.003-07:002008-07-25T22:46:08.597-07:00Now I remember!<div><br /></div>J and I had a heart to heart a couple nights ago in which I told him all the big massive lies I had not yet confessed to him. The ones I swore I would NEVER tell to ANYONE. Then he told me that I wasn’t fooling him, and he noticed all the time how much I exaggerate a story when I’m excitedly telling it to a friend, and change it frequently. Like the story about why I left college last year (which I will eventually post) and the part that goes “And when there were two weeks, where it didn’t, not once, get above (insert preferred temperature here) degrees, and I fled home to San Francisco then and there” in which the actual temperature has changed probably 15 times. He notices all-right, I mean he’s heard me tell all my stories five hundred times, and I always thought he wasn’t paying attention, but no, he notices, and get this… are you ready? HE DOESN’T CARE! He loves me anyway, and he has NEVER, not ONCE tried to change this fact. This is why I love this dorky, scrawny boy.Elmpixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644505247333312292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600903981595793032.post-52710574059160590252008-07-24T02:57:00.000-07:002008-07-24T03:03:53.325-07:00If you hire people who don't speak good english, they need to be really good at their jobs!I officially hate Lowes. For those of you that might not know, Lowes is the California’s big-name hardware store. And I hate it. I hate it with a passion usually reserved only for ballpoint pens and bad driving directions. I hate it so much walking into it, those high shelves, the concrete floors, the greasy, sawdusty, sweaty smell, the people in their cute little blue vests who DON’T speak English and HAVE NO IDEA WHERE ANYTHING IS!<br /><br />Today, I had to go to Lowes, to buy some I-rings, some S-hooks, a long thin piece of pine, some large metal rings and a small wooden dowel. THIS SMALL SIMPLE LIST TOOK ALMOST TWO HOURS. First there was the guy with the hearing aid that couldn’t hear my pleasant “excuse me sir, where are these rings in a smaller size” and left me standing there feeling extremely awkward until he turned around and almost bumped into me. Right there I was ready to forgive him, I mean, who was I to judge? He couldn’t hear me! I mean, for all I know his mother boxed his ears as a child, and he’s some sort of musical genius who’s going to write nine symphonies and cut the legs off his pianos so he can feel the vibrations through the floor. But possible musical brilliance aside, he still couldn’t tell me where the small I-rings were. <br /><br />Now I am not racist, nor do I have a problem with stores hiring people with disabilities. I simply think that if you do hire people with imperfect english for whatever reason, they need to be REALLY GOOD AT THEIR JOB or in the back, stocking shelves. It is ridiculous for me not to be able to find a single person in a hardware store who can articulately and concisely tell me exactly where I need to go for what. <br /><br />The lady with the weird middle-eastern accent couldn’t tell me where the aluminum s-hooks were, and the weird and thickly lisping Indian guy couldn’t tell me where the pine was, and the weird young emo kid who literally DID NOT OPEN HIS MOUTH WHEN SPEAKING could not tell me where the dowels were. All in all, it was NOT a good trip. And it gets worse! Upon getting home, I discovered that the WHOLE BOX OF I-HOOKS was left at the store. So I have to go back. Early. In. The. Morning. <br /><br />I also currently hate fake flowers, but that’s a story for another day. As are the 5 wonderful hours I spent with the ONLY girl I have ever felt truly comfortable with. I love you Jules!<br /><br />I have decided, due to a pinched nerve in my shoulder, and more incredibly painful back problems to not do anymore of the yoga I was trying to do. More on that soon as well.<br /><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Elmpixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644505247333312292noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600903981595793032.post-2576137668930636132008-07-24T01:11:00.001-07:002008-07-24T01:12:37.939-07:00I'm officially amazing because:I just got rid of J's hiccups by shouting "Boo" and flashing my hands into his face. Go me. Elmpixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644505247333312292noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600903981595793032.post-46711158244273452452008-07-22T12:28:00.000-07:002008-07-22T12:31:23.038-07:00I'm a failure.I didn't not do yoga yesterday, or the day before. I officially fail at life. <div><br /></div><div>I'll do it today, and then move the end of my 40 days 2 days later. </div><div><br /></div><div>I feel like a sack of fat, lumpy, useless, excrement. </div><div><br /></div><div>At least my ear heard my plea and is much improved (after taking a hot shower, filling my ear with hot water, and lying down on a towel last night)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Elmpixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644505247333312292noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600903981595793032.post-2678502086320156522008-07-21T15:47:00.000-07:002008-07-21T15:52:18.980-07:00Dear earI was going to write about all sorts of things today, yoga, sewing machines, dooce, fabric, photos, and more, but then I woke up with my right ear so plug as to be deaf. I fee like the whole right half of my world doesn't exist. My balence is off, my right eye feels weird, music sounds terrible, and I keep jumping at noises that seem sudden but infact just jumped from my right ear to my left as they passed in front of me. This is NOT a good day. <div><br /></div><div>Dear right ear,</div><div>Would you please start working again? Please? I promise I'll go home from work today, take a hot shower, and lie down hoping you'll drain, I'll do anything you want in fact! Just please stop not hearing... If I still have to go to work when you're on strike, you can not be on strike!</div><div>Please?</div><div>Em</div>Elmpixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644505247333312292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600903981595793032.post-61081119152057423852008-07-20T16:14:00.000-07:002008-07-20T18:56:01.687-07:00CazGoing up to Cazadero yesterday was great. I was only there for 4 weeks last summer, but J has been there for the last 10 summers. It's so amazing to see these kids, all playing their instruments under the huge redwoods, it's like a whole little world in itself. More amazing than the kids though, is the staff. They all hang around for years, most of them started as campers, switched to CIT's (counselor in training) at 17 or 18, then became counselors, music instructors, stage managers, office staff, music faculty, deans, kitchen staff, store managers, and eventually, directors. It's almost like you start at age 10 and never leave. J and I were going to work there this summer as well, but well, yea. We didn't get hired. That's a little bit of a sore spot. Shh, don't tell anyone. <div><br /></div><div>But it was great to see everyone, most of the staff this year is the same as last year, with just a few exceptions, and it really felt like no time had passed, and it was last year, summer 07, and J and I were going to finish checking out this bunch of campers, go to the beach with everyone else, and then go back to our wooden decks, our beautified canvas tents (we all would bring lights and rugs, and everything else to make them pretty) and get ready to welcome a new bunch of kids on Monday. I wish it was that way, but instead we came home, driving too much, watched some TV and went to bed. </div><div><br /></div><div>Some pictures to show how it is. </div> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfwjV4dg5RtaieVk5VjqSGBVa2A6PhNxQVT8g1KcB2pkx733QQd8Jse3UkkRM-sY96K6PGlboCHH-KTUZa5mAM_XkOaUrvb6xxoYcAIusIJw6QVuXPbrzqIgh3KngZSn65jj08Ld5DM2LU/s1600-h/CIMG1987.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfwjV4dg5RtaieVk5VjqSGBVa2A6PhNxQVT8g1KcB2pkx733QQd8Jse3UkkRM-sY96K6PGlboCHH-KTUZa5mAM_XkOaUrvb6xxoYcAIusIJw6QVuXPbrzqIgh3KngZSn65jj08Ld5DM2LU/s320/CIMG1987.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225244501220839762" /></a><br />The bridge when you first come into camp... if you run, it creates waves in the wood. Sweet.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGDGnONlTIKBaeI-jlcIWts1a6lro5MoCdTt8FMvFX7tOU4pJmdnwSDNO4Xz8YVgnrDUWp1G22JPKoWQS54TPhUeQGOc1WwMBz9ulhHsYLPpLM6XjPdMt6l_f1DW5xl9SaglF5g7RVUYaz/s1600-h/CIMG1993.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGDGnONlTIKBaeI-jlcIWts1a6lro5MoCdTt8FMvFX7tOU4pJmdnwSDNO4Xz8YVgnrDUWp1G22JPKoWQS54TPhUeQGOc1WwMBz9ulhHsYLPpLM6XjPdMt6l_f1DW5xl9SaglF5g7RVUYaz/s320/CIMG1993.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225244506334710546" /></a><div>Junior High Performance...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTJ6UrdTNSDaJ1AW3_KK2kjiUSo81N_AdPhiy1M2CnZbo0Co_2j0cJBnUCqh4JraXvyRoskrhMZ2d_YsxLMjiDflkrANdm0PvNZ5y54VjYNhovNl1y5nnr6ygVl6IlaPks6_SSBWta9oYf/s1600-h/CIMG2054.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTJ6UrdTNSDaJ1AW3_KK2kjiUSo81N_AdPhiy1M2CnZbo0Co_2j0cJBnUCqh4JraXvyRoskrhMZ2d_YsxLMjiDflkrANdm0PvNZ5y54VjYNhovNl1y5nnr6ygVl6IlaPks6_SSBWta9oYf/s320/CIMG2054.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225244513722625010" /></a>High-school Band<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4yFD3zpdM2MXBFJGKC8T7uiCKEzOiUpReZeTHCpCVODYk7gaHBcwaJ4TdPI7C7o0nzbJw3_sUuPNiuKX3Mg1qapsCKq1ZqwzFbGrPog7KXb7mmLl4WEREkqKu_nZMIkl6s48vC3H34tbG/s1600-h/CIMG2129.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4yFD3zpdM2MXBFJGKC8T7uiCKEzOiUpReZeTHCpCVODYk7gaHBcwaJ4TdPI7C7o0nzbJw3_sUuPNiuKX3Mg1qapsCKq1ZqwzFbGrPog7KXb7mmLl4WEREkqKu_nZMIkl6s48vC3H34tbG/s320/CIMG2129.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225244518224446882" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Fun at Staff Concert Variety Night<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMJeI2Ce-G70hJM1r29FhJq2lQa6h3QXm9as6Wwob1udJ8MpjWCeBJGq7B7j8ZeK4Bx5qivODXFy7EmFRqfqH5Q8ACH4rVJyIp5QKU3lzyd08D0ZVc1NhLCufTBZtpwb8DDHS9v55uRR-h/s1600-h/CIMG2155.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMJeI2Ce-G70hJM1r29FhJq2lQa6h3QXm9as6Wwob1udJ8MpjWCeBJGq7B7j8ZeK4Bx5qivODXFy7EmFRqfqH5Q8ACH4rVJyIp5QKU3lzyd08D0ZVc1NhLCufTBZtpwb8DDHS9v55uRR-h/s320/CIMG2155.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225271922153153842" /></a>Me and J at the Halloween Dance (there are dances every week for staff to dress up and kids to dance) <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcnbQAY2uXG2FK_-QS96hFujbxFcErdwtxWGvLdZswpIPq6uGAod-PAUTWHMgZOBwvlx5hmk7aBQSw2dybV1DBwzYtpRiEhby4OkoJycHHXASJPqKISBQRWgJ8sfGHdgldGQR2n1qDH_yo/s1600-h/P1020743.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcnbQAY2uXG2FK_-QS96hFujbxFcErdwtxWGvLdZswpIPq6uGAod-PAUTWHMgZOBwvlx5hmk7aBQSw2dybV1DBwzYtpRiEhby4OkoJycHHXASJPqKISBQRWgJ8sfGHdgldGQR2n1qDH_yo/s320/P1020743.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225271923586233170" /></a>Staff Guitar Ensemble (J on the right)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit6PneH6tk8o5ItC-Mnq-ZGS7_nto8UpoQSWhoXuBPnk6JPo2SG9qM5J6AugsD7SDLrRBze3rKNn4lQuaazcnk7youybsoL9J-zAjKl_EazCPPUa6uenUIS8SRfcnJQKZljNVYpKGcbUid/s1600-h/P1020779.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit6PneH6tk8o5ItC-Mnq-ZGS7_nto8UpoQSWhoXuBPnk6JPo2SG9qM5J6AugsD7SDLrRBze3rKNn4lQuaazcnk7youybsoL9J-zAjKl_EazCPPUa6uenUIS8SRfcnJQKZljNVYpKGcbUid/s320/P1020779.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225271927108913490" /></a></div>Staff Chior<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsCXV2xpsZf0yhm9MBzS83CSFT3-ksjIKpmVgwoOY06dyqld0iIxA7QbdpswgEZHHKOgVsL2xPZpDGG6vvYpecnUcpdXTziBRH2KHvEUMHafmwYS4dGSbp6QKLOINomxUD-7PquCsn1RyO/s1600-h/P1020793.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsCXV2xpsZf0yhm9MBzS83CSFT3-ksjIKpmVgwoOY06dyqld0iIxA7QbdpswgEZHHKOgVsL2xPZpDGG6vvYpecnUcpdXTziBRH2KHvEUMHafmwYS4dGSbp6QKLOINomxUD-7PquCsn1RyO/s320/P1020793.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225274160798393170" /><br /></a><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></div>Final Dance (Prom theme)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEl_Vi3Eqv6HSL3Aszagepgbdc8HpNksKHwWxTh8I0jcsef9iudNq0IwqWdWRinoBzvKrsHpyXSkLf8z0d46opiEvULH-f1MzpnIdDGu7k06Si_uM4PNWIC-OraEKV5ZUL2l601kgQaB5z/s1600-h/IMG_0006.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEl_Vi3Eqv6HSL3Aszagepgbdc8HpNksKHwWxTh8I0jcsef9iudNq0IwqWdWRinoBzvKrsHpyXSkLf8z0d46opiEvULH-f1MzpnIdDGu7k06Si_uM4PNWIC-OraEKV5ZUL2l601kgQaB5z/s320/IMG_0006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225274165256658050" /></a>Me and my co-counselor Cassie at Prom<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2lpkZSj0A0B0N3t2hrELXt5nKojFnMPXmSXTKbiLxRXrAxFWuC-SGx1CGxjXkMFvdV8RN2wVPycCgbTzYTMuiW9w4-8J0p4i_ugieTG4Q8QFUn6rPz3oX8zLvk_CboFzULJxduPYHq3wv/s1600-h/IMG_0013_2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2lpkZSj0A0B0N3t2hrELXt5nKojFnMPXmSXTKbiLxRXrAxFWuC-SGx1CGxjXkMFvdV8RN2wVPycCgbTzYTMuiW9w4-8J0p4i_ugieTG4Q8QFUn6rPz3oX8zLvk_CboFzULJxduPYHq3wv/s320/IMG_0013_2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225274170222098706" /></a>J and Megan Dancing<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL2lraw1cIu_9W3hiRu1laJ6mX-TYh01tq8NDsh5QAw6mvlBzZ6aNho07MXyl9ikqkBlYdf3LqWWP2BfChmtqjXqWNHtrvDQI9sLyErVSDb7FPwQ6AuYxwf8Rd9Zor1ra6g0n2W9QVFJ9s/s1600-h/IMG_0016.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL2lraw1cIu_9W3hiRu1laJ6mX-TYh01tq8NDsh5QAw6mvlBzZ6aNho07MXyl9ikqkBlYdf3LqWWP2BfChmtqjXqWNHtrvDQI9sLyErVSDb7FPwQ6AuYxwf8Rd9Zor1ra6g0n2W9QVFJ9s/s320/IMG_0016.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225274173312491394" /></a>The Boys<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQVv8hrfv4KBICCuWD-D8ZMyxvTzlt9H_40GtR75Dv2Rjo_-7nBvx-yXT9amOH7ePZqgGffUIxHVKSSUMaaH6OcZbk8B7T6oHzZc6zuEc-XEsBRjf8jzOfoEhhlt-bg4bpmYNGMqel6r7a/s1600-h/n1053150064_30005375_4147.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQVv8hrfv4KBICCuWD-D8ZMyxvTzlt9H_40GtR75Dv2Rjo_-7nBvx-yXT9amOH7ePZqgGffUIxHVKSSUMaaH6OcZbk8B7T6oHzZc6zuEc-XEsBRjf8jzOfoEhhlt-bg4bpmYNGMqel6r7a/s320/n1053150064_30005375_4147.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225274176124851186" /></a><br /></div>A boys cabin...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNu0LTd_CkbwNw4kuunuyvdUzR89d4vNqfI9peNDiXAZ9rAs-dvJ1nXef7VBui7pOVX8AppXZ4eHbKhZE7lX_yu7evKiTosEU82TuPohBKwIsrfVxamLGBJ0QWdIsa9sKMeCICM4hlFvbt/s1600-h/CIMG2232.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNu0LTd_CkbwNw4kuunuyvdUzR89d4vNqfI9peNDiXAZ9rAs-dvJ1nXef7VBui7pOVX8AppXZ4eHbKhZE7lX_yu7evKiTosEU82TuPohBKwIsrfVxamLGBJ0QWdIsa9sKMeCICM4hlFvbt/s320/CIMG2232.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225279922932986722" /></a>Final beach bonfire... fire-walking!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrBUMYpFhvEpv879YdOA4Rb-RtSj1a35texhsG81szysK1j3MVB2GXtpuqaxb5ESgUxY2iFBqGedyTQLU_NoBNU0C35LVtin5wb-w2DZWkoTSoMxx-fdw2nKuy3kd2I5vANhHZpRiXZCeZ/s1600-h/CIMG2328.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrBUMYpFhvEpv879YdOA4Rb-RtSj1a35texhsG81szysK1j3MVB2GXtpuqaxb5ESgUxY2iFBqGedyTQLU_NoBNU0C35LVtin5wb-w2DZWkoTSoMxx-fdw2nKuy3kd2I5vANhHZpRiXZCeZ/s320/CIMG2328.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225279922844099298" /></a>STAFF! (or a small portion there-of)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7GSb7vWfU-Lpv9BuuyIaedLmFQStBquDGYWgKQrnMFvZOi65S-mopuvWW6pzuGDhLsq6Qs9zTb0dTRWM4TxQrymHoXJZCrnEF0jSnpJ5eYolZz7agdW07Vl1O8v8dt6iJRB53z4D08lfJ/s1600-h/n1053150064_30005522_8474.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7GSb7vWfU-Lpv9BuuyIaedLmFQStBquDGYWgKQrnMFvZOi65S-mopuvWW6pzuGDhLsq6Qs9zTb0dTRWM4TxQrymHoXJZCrnEF0jSnpJ5eYolZz7agdW07Vl1O8v8dt6iJRB53z4D08lfJ/s320/n1053150064_30005522_8474.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225279925095985842" /></a>My high-school girls cabin. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF08I3TT5TY8W3i1D4mXbNtLhP0715vJYPhLJQ_qb6WmO3heR0g8Gy0NJcppzVL5rTexMOtcVn8xa1K6y0pqsoHFescuL4oU6cjh70dOY5nEQrBK4HXJ1rhyxN28d-XiNGaAsV7-SLqi2p/s1600-h/l_8879fcce1d076e6a208fb7f9d178a845.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF08I3TT5TY8W3i1D4mXbNtLhP0715vJYPhLJQ_qb6WmO3heR0g8Gy0NJcppzVL5rTexMOtcVn8xa1K6y0pqsoHFescuL4oU6cjh70dOY5nEQrBK4HXJ1rhyxN28d-XiNGaAsV7-SLqi2p/s320/l_8879fcce1d076e6a208fb7f9d178a845.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225279927977091634" /></a>Elmpixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644505247333312292noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600903981595793032.post-85373748101044381702008-07-19T21:46:00.000-07:002008-07-19T21:55:48.608-07:00BlerghI'm not really in the mood for writing today, but I'm trying to write every day, so I'm going to say something...<div><br /></div><div>J and I went up to Caz today, which was, well an experience... and I'll have a lot to say about it tomorrow. </div><div><br /></div><div>Mostly I just want to read my current book <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Fai</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">rest</span>, by Gail Carsen Levine, as I am currently OBSESSED with it. </div><div><br /></div><div>And I did NOT want to do my yoga today, I wish I had done it this morning rather than waiting until after I'd been in the car all day, and then with people I was really hyper around, and then in the car for another whole day! (not really, we drove up and down today, but it sure felt like forever...) But yea, yoga was hard, but it still happened. </div><div><br /></div><div>Topics for the next few days:</div><div>Caz</div><div>Someone I shall call Jewel</div><div>Music</div><div>The Box</div><div>And more I'm sure. </div><div><br /></div>Elmpixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644505247333312292noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600903981595793032.post-10430230094697568722008-07-18T14:35:00.000-07:002008-07-19T21:57:29.474-07:00ArmegeddonI'm going to New York this fall, to school on Long Island, which to me, is not that scary. Apparently my mom does not agree however, she said this morning that she was concerned about me going so far away because there's "going to be a nuclear war". Now I like to think a little more optimistically, perhaps that the world is not going to fall apart immediately at least not in the next four years. Can I please get through college, get a degree, before we're reduced to cowering in the country, waiting for one beautiful city after another to go up in smoke.<br /><br />What I can't understand, is why anyone, no-matter what their agenda, or their reasons, would ever, EVER, fire a nuclear weapon. Wasn't that the POINT of Mutually Assured Destruction? Even just one stupid teeny tiny nuke, just means the end of everything beautiful we have left.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Dear Terrorists, please don't blow up everything until after I get out of college!</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Thanks, Em</span><br /><br />That'll do the trick, I'm sure.<br /><br /><br /><br />Yoga was a little hard today, didn't happen until 9pm. Plus, I'm going up to Cazadero Performing Arts Camp tomorrow to visit some old friends. So, no post tomorrow most likely... Not that anyone is waiting on their toes!Elmpixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644505247333312292noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600903981595793032.post-81729761319799269592008-07-17T19:34:00.001-07:002008-07-18T00:16:24.323-07:00Scenery PillI spent all today in Point Reyes with my mom... Point Reyes, the most beautiful place in the world. I didn't even go anywhere exciting, not to the beach, or the beautiful trails, anywhere. But still, just around the town, and about 10 times to the friend of my mom's who lets her do her laundry at his house, even that is gorgeous. It's like some sort of supplement, a vitamin, someone should bottle, "Beautiful Scenery, one pill a day keeps the gloom away". It certainly kept my gloom away today...<div><br /></div><div>I've also been watching this show called 30 days, which I recommend to EVERYONE. It's available on Hulu.com. It's so fascinating. I'm watching this great episode where a Mom concerned with her college daughters drinking decides to binge drink every night for 30 days. It's well, interesting... I mean, as a college student who is rather responsible, but still does go out and drink and get drunk, it's interesting to see both the college student who gets drunk to the point of blacking out every night (I've only ever blacked out and thrown up once) and the mom who can only handle four drinks before throwing up. </div><div><br /></div><div>I also started 40 days of two yoga sets yesterday, and we'll see how it goes, even just doing these two EASY PEASY ones are soo hard, so incredibly difficult. I'm sore even just after two days, without even doing 26 repetitions of each one (I actually can't yet). So yea... we'll see. Hopefully by posting about it every day I can keep up with it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway... one more little tidbit, I'm involved in an art show in Point Reyes, in the Gallery Route One, where they send out over 100 completely blank empty wooden boxes to do anything you please with to artists in the area. I'll keep posting about my progress (it's due in a week) hopefully without giving away anything too big!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Elmpixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644505247333312292noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600903981595793032.post-88236988721895656902008-07-16T23:10:00.000-07:002008-07-16T23:36:26.584-07:00It all comes down to high-schoolI'm currently living in a Sikh Ashram one block from Haight/Ashbury in San Francisco. I'm lucky enough to live there because of being friends with someone who grew up there.<br /><br />The reason I mention this, is because this morning, I sat in a room watching the girls I live with do this insane yoga set that I literally could not do if I tried. They both just graduated from <a href="http://www.miripiriacademy.org/">Miri Piri Academy</a>, in India, the premier school for Sikhs, where you don't just graduate with a high school degree, and an entire health lifestyle ingrained in you, but a license to teach yoga as well. They leave fully able to get along in the world, get a well paying job, or do anything else they want, completely self-sufficient with exercise, good sleep, good food, and every other good habit you could ever want. And I left my high-school with no skills other than a constant nagging that I need to be in "college" being "educated" so I can "succeed".<br /><br />Not that I'm complaining about Waldorf, the weird little wonderful artsy high-school I went to, I loved it there, I loved the people and the art, and the sense of community, and the teachers interest in each student (I still go back and have coffee with some of my favorite teachers). I loved a lot about my high-school, I left with a profound sense of social depth and moral aptitude which you'd think would be wonderful, but has actually served me badly in the world as I now expect people to treat me with respect and understanding, as I would treat them, where in fact I'm treated as everyone is treated, with distrust and disregard. Still, though, I certainly didn't leave a fully fledged yoga teacher, bilingual, and chock full of all those life improvements and empowerment that the rest of the world has to work so hard on. Now that's a high-school worth going to.<br /><br />So while the girls were getting up at 5am, taking 11 minute cold showers, making power smoothies, doing Sadhana, (the morning worship involving meditation and the opening of the sacred book) doing the morning yoga set (they each do different sets for 40 days depending on what they want to improve in their bodies) then getting ready, wrapping their turbans and making salad and kicharee (mung beans, rice, vegtables and spices all cooked together into a thick stew) for lunch, and going to work, I was snoring away in bed, fat oozing out of old gross boxers, un-showered greasy hair all over the pillow, till half past eleven. Even after I woke up, it didn't get any better, I stumbled downstairs, morning breath leaving a rancid cloud behind me, and bleary-eyed stuffed some crumpets in my mouth before going back up-stairs to sit around, arguing with my boyfriend, having people cancel plans on me, and altogether doing nothing the entirety of the day. Productive, eh?<br /><br />Basically, it's not my fault I'm a useless lazy bum, it all comes down to where I went to high-school.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">My girls...</span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfB6u5NHoQ_F4tDSXVgDUjwnfyuKSF8UCez35xQZAXOZr0MgfyvrEtVufrfKrPWCtW4djJsPz011Dz6tfPItESzz_gh6ifKIU3vUtl3AcniEYd6tGEtOOW3J6lkEZnzENLbuel2VOjmR6h/s1600-h/n505841654_732848_9528.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfB6u5NHoQ_F4tDSXVgDUjwnfyuKSF8UCez35xQZAXOZr0MgfyvrEtVufrfKrPWCtW4djJsPz011Dz6tfPItESzz_gh6ifKIU3vUtl3AcniEYd6tGEtOOW3J6lkEZnzENLbuel2VOjmR6h/s320/n505841654_732848_9528.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223862993148973090" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-style: italic;">And some of the crazy yoga poses they do...</span></span><br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZwCD_s9SO-9sTfmVcJ5zCVvOahepq9G-JrZhQX5K-PMMylaGLuGlyxZk8n6ecgcRI-jdV_d4vgChEQHiZFg0JBRWOW9yd9fQVNn74jwrn6VwxysDi2aUQqNk5F4GdF3PHWMwt1WHDfJk/s1600-h/n11522700_31338761_4821.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZwCD_s9SO-9sTfmVcJ5zCVvOahepq9G-JrZhQX5K-PMMylaGLuGlyxZk8n6ecgcRI-jdV_d4vgChEQHiZFg0JBRWOW9yd9fQVNn74jwrn6VwxysDi2aUQqNk5F4GdF3PHWMwt1WHDfJk/s320/n11522700_31338761_4821.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5223863345752796498" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;">PS... These girls are only 17 and 18. The 18 year old is making $1000 a week as a massage therapist, and is about to go to med school to be an osteopath, while the 17 year old (the one in the crazy pose) is about to go to school to study digital media and art.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div>Elmpixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644505247333312292noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3600903981595793032.post-883046697319270662008-07-15T19:30:00.000-07:002008-07-15T20:13:53.235-07:00Bon VoyageSo... first post, always a little awkward. Do I jump right in, start talking about the dress I'm making? My current stomach ache? How obnoxious the motorcycles outside my windows are? Or introduce myself to the empty auditorium shyly stating a name and a purpose? I have a whole life behind me, heart-ache, joy, music, crafts, parents, friends, food, school, love... but whoever may read this (probably no-one) doesn't know that... maybe I'm a freaky little blond 14 year-old, trying to pull a few legs, or maybe I'm a 50 year-old mom trying to blow off some stress. <div><br /></div><div>Whoever I may be and whoever you may be (no scary pedophiles please!), for some reason, You are reading this. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks, by the way, and I hope you come back. </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway. This should turn into one of those blogs, with a small but avid reader base, where I talk about whatever is going on right now... plus a lot about whatever craft I'm currently working on. I probably shouldn't have said that. Just watch, (or don't as the case may be) I'm going to have jinxed myself with that, and now I'm going to hear nothing but my voice echoing into cyberspace, still standing on that empty auditorium stage. </div><div><br /></div><div>Well, successful or not, here I go, showing myself to the world, with high hopes, and deep insecurities. </div><div><br /></div><div>Smash the champagne! Push push push from the docks, babies crying, mothers waving kerchiefs, a maiden voyage for a ponderous and jerry-rigged ship, full of interesting things to show and trade all around the world. Cry "Bon Voyage!" from the harbor as the sails change from bed sheets to birds and the lines to tiny strings. The crew is ready, the captain stands alert, log open in front of him, and he writes:</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">"I think it's the ship's time of the month, perhaps this was not the best day to sail"</span></div>Elmpixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17644505247333312292noreply@blogger.com1