There's an app for that

I have alot of subject ideas to


blog about, lots of pictures to share, and lots of spurr of the moment opportunities to take advantage of. The problem was that I had no way of writing and posting these thoughts when they popped up due to lack of a laptop or nearness to a pc with internet.
I do, however, have an iPhone. But try as I may I couldn't write on my blog via my safari; try though I did, it could not be done. But as it turns out, there is an aplication even for Google's Blogger.

Yep, there's an app for that ;)


- Posted from emikel's iPhone -

You won't relent until you have it all

This post is really me reflecting to myself. It has a point, but may come about in a round-a-bout way because that's how my mind works, the dots may not even connect. There's alot of stuff going on up there.

But on my mind today was the day I received the revelation of love.

I've grown up in a christian home. I had no problem with Christianity, but not alot of understanding either. I accepted Christ as a small child not for fear of eternal separation of God, but for fear of where I'd end up. I continued to go to church with my family, not to worship or listen to what people had to say, but because there were snacks in Sunday school and after it was over I could play with my friends. As I got older some things became clearer and I started listening to the sermons, but nothing was alive to me. I could see that there was something there, something that lit up my parents and some of our friends but I just didn't understand.

Early on in the decade my father took a trip with a few friends from church to a place out in Kansas City, MO called IHOP (the International House Of Prayer). He returned excited and refreshed and brought music with him. That was the year we were introduced to Misty Edwards, Julie Meyers, as well as many other artists who live out there. And like he does with most of his music, he played it obnoxiously loud, the kind of loud where your ear-drums explode and and start gushing blood from exposure - probably where I got my love of loud music - but there was no appreciation for this new material.

As you know, I love music.

"As has been established previously, I like music. I can't live without the means of listening to it, whether it be by playing an instrument, listening to a CD, spacing to my friends jamming, or (if I'm desperate, or alone :) singing. Music is a very powerful thing. What you listen to subtly influences your thinking, behavior, world view, the way you view relationships, whether you're apathetic or empathetic towards certain things. There is something in music that literally permeates your soul. " - http://coloring-theworld.blogspot.com/2009/12/confessions-of-closet-addict.html

Somehow I did end up listening to one of these new cd's at a tolerable and understandable level of volume, and just like that, something grabbed me. They sang these beautiful words with such passion and truthfulness that I couldn't help feeling something. I felt it, but still didn't understand it. A year or so went by and another trip was made to Kansas City, this time by my mother and her friends. By now contemporary christian music had made it's way into the house, though my parents were a little hesitant of what I was listening to - funny to think of them back then, they're over it now and actually enjoy some of the stuff that I bring home :) Mom brought each of us back a little something - I got The Beautiful Let Down cd(by switchfoot), and again I saw the excitement and rejuvenation awakened in my parents.

Another year or so went by and my parents sat me down. It was my turn now. There is a conference we want to take you to. Onething 2005.

This conference is named after Psalm 27:4 ~ One thing have I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to inquire in his temple.

We left early on a 5am flight out of Bradley. We were joined by three of my dad's friends and their eldest kids. We got there, checked in to the hotel, and went right over to the conference. It was a long day. The worship was raw and loud, and I could feel the bass in my body. That first night Mike Bickle spoke on the end times, now that topic woke me up. Imagine this little 13 year old listening to a man talk about Revelation, and Jesus' return and all that will happen. I was pretty freaked, but intrigued. This was real. Again I could see the passion with which these people lived.

The conference continued and things changed in me. I was being drawn in, woken up. I heard the leaders talk about fasting, praying, worship. About being closer to God and getting to know his heart. I started to realize that that was where I wanted to be. The second to last day of the conference is one that I'll never forget, the day I found my breaking point.

The speaker spoke on God's love for us, of the reason he created us and the lengths he went through to get us back. Misty got onstage after that and started to sing one of her (then) new songs. I can't really describe it. My soul was full with the revelation that He loved me. ME! Tears were shed, bonds were made, understanding came, longing, aching, and yearning for more started and has never stopped.

Love.

Love is what was missing, what I wasn't getting. It was love that gave these people their passion and zeal, their drive. The sense that I wasn't my own, that I had been bought with a price. Graphted into a family and position where I did not deserve to be.

Music.

Since then music has really been a comunicator and reminder of this great love. Actually the reason for this post started out as a single line from a song stuck in my head, but I couldn't remember the song that it came from. And, as it happened, as I kept trying to think of what song it was I thought of pretty much everything I just posted - there you go, my round-a-bout brain :) I finally found the song. As I Go Down, by Relient K. Here's the line that was stuck in my head plus whatever :) :

"Any control I thought I had just slips right through my hands, While my ever-present conscience shakes its head and reprimands me, Reprimands me. Then and there I confess. I'll blame all this on my selfishness. Yet you love me, And that consumes me, And I'll stand up again And do so willingly. You give me hope, and hope it gives me life, You touch my heavy heart, and when you do you make it light. As I exhale I hear your voice And I answer you, though I hardly make a noise. And from my lips the words I choose to say Seem pathetic, but it's fallen man's praise. Because I love you, Oh God, I love you! And life is now worth living If only because of you, And when they say that I'm dead and gone It won't be further from the truth. When I go down I lift my eyes to you. I won't look very far Cause you'll be there With open arms To lift me up again. To lift me up again." - When I Go Down, Relient K

"I can finally see, that you're right there beside me. I am not my own, for I have been made new. Please don't let me go, I desperately need you!" - Meteor Shower, Owl City

Didn't your mother ever tell you...

• not to talk to strangers


• don't run with scissors


• don't point, it's rude


• don't accept rides from strangers


• don't offer rides to strangers - you never know if they're a homicidal maniac


• don't take candy from strangers


• look both ways before you cross the street


• there are starving people in china, you will eat what is put in front of you!

I am sure that these are things you have all heard growing up. Some of them you understood and obeyed, others, not so much. I personally never got the 'starving people in china' one, so what? Yeah they're starving, but why do I have to eat the peas. I will personally deliver the peas to them, then they will no longer be starving and I won't have to eat the little, round, green veggies. Problem solved. Yes? That reasoning got me strange looks.

But over the weekend 2 of these Mother's rules of thumbs were broken. Saturday afternoon I was picked up at school and was driven straight to the gym. I walked in, swiped my little ID tag - I hate it when they say "hello, Emily!" that's not really friendly, that's creepy. - and headed to the locker room to change out of my Cosmetologist apparel. There is a changing room open, and I start walking to it. Someone crosses in front of me. A small Asian woman, about 5' tall(if that) who looked to be somewhere in her 50's maybe(I'm a rather bad judge of age so...). She was striding across the room towards a locker holding what I assumed was the rest of her clothes as she was dressed only in a long tshirt and underwear, she had just showered, her hair was wet and tousled. After walking a couple steps more towards the changing room I am stopped by this little Asian and questioned.

She's noticed my smock, did I work today? - well, I'm still a student, but yes I did 'work' today

So I 'worked' Saturdays, so my weekend was Sunday and Monday? - u-huh

she points a finger at my name tag. You go to the 'Institute'? unable to say the whole name, where is that? - Wethersfield. I replied, giving its location information

This type of Question&Answer session continues on for about 10 minutes. She asks more about my school, if I've learned to cut hair, if I went to the gym everyday. I looked good. Did I eat all the food groups? Really? She moved on, choosing the gym as our next topic. I was blown away by how easily this conversation was flowing. I didn't know her, she didn't know me, she spoke very broken English but understood all that I said and responded quite enthusiastically. Her excitement for the profession which I had chosen made me bare my pearly whites in happiness. By the time we said goodbye and I had changed into gym clothes I had only 20 minutes left. I hopped onto an elliptical next to my dad who had headphones wedged into his ears and seemed to be in his own little world. I smiled to myself, recounting the run in with the cute, little, old, Asian woman. This was one stranger I was glad I had talked to.

Early the next morning my mother had made an appointment at the gym at 9:30. I was reluctant. Sunday was the first day of my weekend, the day I wanted to sleep in the most. "I'll let you sleep on Monday." she says, but I don't care about Monday, I'd rather get up earlier then. It was the day after I'd gotten up at 6:30 that I wanted to sleep. But because we haven't found a church yet my mother has been using Sunday mornings to work out. So I get up and we head out to Cardio Express. We work out with a trainer for 20 or so minutes and then leave. We are driving around the parkade parking lot, listening to our van squeal.

This van is 11 years old and has had more problems than Michael Phelps would trying to beat Shean White racing down a bunny hill on skis. Its latest thing is to make a high pitched squealing sound as we drive anywhere under 40mph. It sounds like a dying animal, and in a sense, it is. Our little complaints stop momentarily and my mother and I are both silent, tired.

We approach the stop sign across from the abandoned Bradley's parking lot. A woman sits on the curb parallel to us. She is wearing a long trench coat wrapped tightly around her thin waist. A scarf is covering her head, tied neatly under her chin. Beside her is a little cart on wheels with a few bags of groceries inside. She look like a babushka - a little Russian grandmother.

I wonder if she's waiting for someone, or if she needs a ride. I look at my mother who seems to be pondering the same thing. She glances at me and then verbalizes the question we're both thinking. "Should we give her a ride? Do you think she needs it? Do you think she'd even take it?" we sat there for a few seconds, then pulled to the curb. Mom stuck her head out the window and yelled to the woman. No answer. The babushka rose to her feet, she was very tall and slender as she walked towards our van. Mom repeated the question, this time receiving a response. "I don't normally accept rides." Mom jumped out of the car and opened the side door for her. As they figured where to put the woman's groceries - she was very concerned about the fragility of the eggs she just bought - I picked up my iPhone and made a music selection. I figured what I had playing now probably wouldn't be too enjoyable for this lady. I settled on a nice quiet album of hymns that seemed to match the perfect stillness of the quiet Sunday morning. We got our guest settled into the seat behind my mother and set off. This charming old lady lived right on main street, in an apartment next to the Bike Shoppe. The whole ride she made comments about everything. What a nice van, it has very comfortable seats, it drives nice. What nice music. It is beautiful. Isn't the weather beautiful today! She carried on in a very amiable way. She reminded me of my friends grandmother and I wondered what her life's story was. We found her apartment building and helped her(and her eggs) out of the car - again she told us what a wonderful vehicle we had. My mother asked if she needed help with her things and we were assured by Leona, that was her name, that she was fine, and thank you very much.

Mom climbed back into the car and we both sat there for a few seconds as Leona walked away with her groceries. Without a word the car was put into drive and we headed home. "Weren't we just complaining about our van? Right before we picked her up?" I murmured. "yeah," mom sighed, "interesting how that happened huh?" Our van that we had both just pronounced as a piece of crap that we'd be happy to see go was viewed moments later as a treasure to someone. I thought about that for a minute. Sure, it wasn't shiny, it had no hubcaps, no CD player. The speakers went on the fritz, the window got stuck sometimes, one of the seat belts would freeze in the winter and the carpet was permanently a muddy brown color. This van was over a decade old and had...personality, but it got us where we wanted to go. It's taken us on road trip after road trip, to the grocery store, dance, and on occasion, the random deliverance of random people.

I guess it was a treasure.

hairbrained

So, it's been a while. Last time I left you I was freaked about a test, well, no worries. The test was easier than anticipated, and I got a 96%...so...PASS! Now I need to start studying for the next one, which has 95 questions, but at least I have an idea what it'll be like - have I mentioned that I strongly am in favor of multiple choice tests?
Outside of school I've given two hair cuts, and discovered that the shears they gave us to use on our "clients" are very, very, very(!!!) sharp. I managed to slice my index finger three times just by bumping the finger against the shears, and lopped off a bit of skin around my knuckle...No, it wasn't carelessness, it was inexperience mixed with sharp tools. I won't be running with these scissors anytime soon.
I've also discovered that I really enjoy a technique called "slide cutting". It's like using your shears like a razor blade. Imagine when you are cutting wrapping paper and you get your scissors just right and you don't have to open and close them, they just glide right across. Well, the hair is the wrapping paper. So. COOL!

My mom has asked me to style her hair quite a few times. It's the simple things in life.

I don't even really know how I did this. It's just twisted up and bobby pinned, somehow I did it in 30 seconds and it lasted till bedtime.

This is what we call a 'Spiral Perm', I call it 'long and tedious'.

But it's worth it in the end. Well, at least when you actually get to see the finished product instead of putting an hour or so's worth of time into something only to have to take it out and wet it down immediately for the next project.

Braiding. Yesterday and today we braided. They taught cornrows, french braids, and the fishtail/bone braid. I had an extra section of hair and free time so I played with this section.

my cornrows :)

Le Do, or Le Don't?

One of my favorite people in the whole world posted this to my FB. I found it this morning as I was getting ready for school and it totally made my day.

foiled again!

Lately the majority of my days at school have been filled with foiling hi lites. As far as grades go, they've been pretty high, so if you want a foil hi lite done, go out and buy foils and the color you would like and then call me, as far as interest goes...it's dwindling. This most likely is because I am slow. Slow, and precise. It's hard for me to do one and just go on. I like to make sure I've covered every hair, placed it neatly in the foil, fold the foil cleanly, without many wrinkles and such, and then check to make sure that the color(or colesteral as the case is now) is not leaking onto them clients(...mannequin's) head. This is all fine and dandy when one is only doing a partial foil to the top of the head, but when one is completely covering a whole entire head with foils...let's just say that my way of doing things is not all that time efficient.

On Friday afternoon, we started doing a Full Hi lite Slice - covering every-other section of hair with color(colesteral) and putting it into a foil, and doing this to the whole head. I got about 3/4 of the way through before it was time to leave - (I finished it up the next day, took out all the foils and then started again on a variation of what I had just completed.) Tedious. SO, tedious. By the end, the mannequin looked like she could pick up a radio signal better than the satellite station we were listening too. Not only was my Friday filled with foils(ALLITERATION!), but with what felt like impending doom. We had been told a week or so in advance that a test would be coming up soon. That we would have a pre-test on Friday, and the real test on Saturday.
So early Friday morning, we all went over our notes on Chapter Nine - The Theory of Haircutting - Salon Fundamentals and then sat down for the 35 question pre-test, the real test would be only 25 question, making every answer count.

I got 30/35, that translated into a grade would be about 85, maybe 86% (depending if you were feeling generous with your rounding.) Two of the five wrong answers were careless mistakes of circling 'a' instead of 'c' - I was half asleep, and simply not paying attention. I went home that night, tired out, and anxious about what was coming the next morning. I went to Leadership Core(a meeting where the juniors, seniors, and some the college age+ adults come together as the leadership for the youth group and have a bible study and discuss event schedules). That fellowship relaxed me until I got home...and studied till 11:00(with wonderful jazz music - thanks hedge) and then fell asleep with crazy dreams that I'm not quite sure helped me sleep well...

I was mentally prepping myself for the morning to come.

Let's Give It Up For Dinosaurs

IF I HAD A BRONTOSAURUS

If I had a brontosaurus,

I would name him Horace or Morris.

But if suddenly one day he had

A lot of little brontosauri---

I would change his name

To Laurie.

~Shell Silverstien, Where The Sidewalk Ends

Adventures of Emikel and Jro

Last year our many siblings took classes at the Mystic Aquarium, giving us two choices:

1. Stay home and be bored(for what seemed like a whole entire day) and maybe do something productive...or
2. Go to mystic and hang out together, exploring the 'Olde Mystic Village' and drink Starbucks.

Needless to say since our first favorite thing is each other, and our second favorite thing is COFFEE(particularly, but not pertaining to Starbucks) the answer was obvious.

On one of our adventures to this fishy establishment we came upon an Irish goods store. Of course we had to check it out(Bella is Irish. Perhaps not by blood or heritage, but by choice and desire ;) The shop wasn't anything amazing really. There were mugs with classic Irish names on them, Guinness posters and Claddagh rings. But as we were walking by the counter we chanced upon the candy selection. CRUNCHIES!

Crunchies are an Irish candy made of honey comb dipped in chocolate. Pretty much the tastiest thing you will ever eat. Until then we had thought they only sold them in Ireland, we were pleasantly proved wrong.