Poetry in forms of pencil strokes

Cup art

Recently, there has been an outbreak of penned art on plain white paper coffee cups. In a recent visit up to my bro's college, a bunch of us gathered for coffee and proceeded to take out empty and used white cups back to our friend's dorm where she, an art major, then handed out pens and crayons and markers. We sat and had ourselves an art session. My brother, however, left his cup blank, informing me I could doodle what I'd like and joked about giving it to him as a Christmas gift....well I did. And today, I present to you my freshly finished (as of 10 minutes ago) product.

Cups: black india ink pen - pre color.














Ok, now for another 360, post coloring.

Cup: black India ink pen + water color paints (:

Hello, my name is Emily, and I'm an addict.

"And on the eighth  day, God created coffee."

Ok,  I'm not a crazy addict. I just have a bit of a caffeine problem... When I was little, I adored the scent of my mother's steaming morning coffee and would always try a sip, only to crinkle my nose and pretend that it tasted good. She drank it black, no sugar. And to a four year old, that's an intense way to be introduced to the stuff. As I got older, and persevered through the bitterness, I started to acquire a taste for the dark liquid. I started drinking it because I liked it. And now....without a couple cups in the a.m. I go through the day in a fog, feeling like a zombie with eyes on fire. It's been years since I've experienced a caffeine buzz, or remember what it's like. Now, I drink it to feel more human, without it I am grumpy, tired, and walk around squinting my eyes because they feel like they are going to burn out of my head...and because it still tastes so good!

And now, I am going to be an enabler. Forgive me.
 I have a recipe to share with all of my caffeine dependent, bloggy friends, I found it in the food section of my local newspaper. Super easy, reasonably cheap. Serves about four.

Winter Spice cafe' latte

• 3/4 cup of ground coffee
• 1 tsp. ground cinnamon (or more, depending on your taste)
• 3 cups cold water
• 1 can (14 oz.) Sweetened condensed milk
• whipped cream

Mix the cinnamon and the ground coffee together. Brew coffee as usual - I use a french press most of the time, but the brewing method isn't specific.

Pour sweetened condensed milk into a large coffee pot or a 1 1/2 quart pitcher. Add freshly brewed coffee and stir until thoroughly blended.

Pour into eclectic cafe' mugs and top with whipped cream. Sprinkle some extra cinnamon on top if you feel really fancy. Serve immediately.

I suppose you could also turn this into a frappacino-like drink if you were to let the brew cool then add to a blender filled with around 2c. ice cubes and a splash of milk or cream. Then top it with whatever decadence you desire.

I made this last night and it tasted like a coffee house concoction. That is to say, pretty darn good. REALLY rich though, and VERY sweet. Definitely a dessert type of drink. Feel free to play around with coffee::sweetened milk ratios, as well as different spices like nutmegs or cloves. I  think I'd use more coffee and less milk next time.

Let me know if you try it!

And may the odds be ever in your favor

What would you do if one day you were taken from your home, thrown into a massive outdoor arena with 23 other people, and told you weren't aloud to come out...unless you were the last one alive? What would you do if the only provisions you were given were the clothes on your back? If you had to brave the elements with no shelter, and the little supplies that was up for grabs must be taken along with the life of its previous owner? What would you do if you had to go through all of this knowing you would be on a screen, viewed - every second of the day and night - by the whole of your nation?

Well? 

A few weeks ago we had a massive snow storm (freak natural disaster in the middle of October!) that knocked the power out in most of Connecticut for a week or more. During that week I spent some time with my friends Reagan and Sophia. Sophia stayed at my house for most of that week, and with her she brought a new book. The Hunger games. She was hooked, and had devoured most of it in just a day or so. At night we would have story time, reading by the soft glow of a lantern. I was hooked. The intense and violent story of this girl was crazy! My eyes went wide and adrenaline started pumping as Sophia read aloud and I imagined the reckless and life threatening situations. The power came on, and she left my house before she could finish the book, but days later it was handed to me, in much rougher conditions then when it had first appeared at my house. 

I sat down immediately with this beloved and dog eared story and began some word devouring of my own. It was terrific. I read the last paragraph and was mentally gasping for air, physically running back in forth in my kitchen mumbling "What! NO! It can't end! No! Where are the keys? I'm going to buy the next book NOW! I HAVE TO!" with my sister standing by the counter, shaking her head and giving me the "You are crazier than I give you credit for." look - yes, she has a particular look for that thought, I receive it often.

But, before I finished the Hunger Games, I poisoned her mind as well, reading a chapter out loud to her before bed. Now that I am done with it, she carries it around. Disappearing into the world of Panem as often as possible. Eleanore! The girl who doesn't read anything! The girl who sticks her nose up at every book I have suggested EVER! My mother and I are shocked, but happy. I was also happy to find out that my library was carrying copies of the next two sequels and that I was able to check them both out at once. 

The Hunger Games    *  Catching Fire    *      Mocking Jay

On top of that, they are also making a movie! As always, I'm a little wary of people taking such an awesome book and putting it on film, but, as previews tend to do, the trailer looks amazing.

Keep Calm and Carry On

So. Here I am again....

Last Monday I went into my salon to work for the last time. If my client hadn't have been a personal friend I probably wouldn't have gone in at all and asked them to give the client to another stylist. They had let me know the Thursday prior. The economy just isn't supporting the both of us. And for an up-and-coming to be sitting, waiting, in a salon for perspective clients when 99.9998% of walk-ins are already regulars to another stylist there, well it's not really helping to build the clientele. 

So, I'm on the hunt. Again. While I am looking, I am running a small salon out of my home. It'd be stupid not to, seeing as I have all the equipment in my living room, except for a legit salon sink...but someday, maybe ;)

Even though I am technically jobless right now, I am strangely peaceful, and once again am reminded of how blessed I am with the friends God has given me. One by one, as I let them know about my situation, they each responded with different ways of comfort. 

A group of us went to a midnight movie premiere and giggled together for the three hours that we sat waiting. One called me within seconds of receiving the "I've lost my job" text, and even though the conversation was short, it was comforting to me that she cared enough to hop right on the phone to see how I was. And my best friend showed up at my house with a tall thermos of Carmel Coffee and we spent the afternoon, and some of the evening, around my kitchen table just talking about life.

I decided to not start looking for a job until after Thanksgiving. Taking the time to let it sink in, form a game plan, enjoy the holiday, food, and friends, and spend some quality time with my brother, Oliver, who was home from college for a few days. 

We went to The Muppet Movie the night it came out with a couple of our friends, we let our little brother tag along too, and BTW...it's hilarious. Go see it.

Yesterday I went over to a friends house and arranged a resume (this was actually fun!) and I realized that I love words....and that I had done much more with my talents than I had thought.

I also found out yesterday that one of my dear friends lost her job, too, so I called her up and we talked for a while. Our circumstances seem to parallel each other and I joke that this way it's easier for us to relate to one another. 

So, for now I'm trying to keep my head up, 'keep the dream alive', keep calm and carry on (as my British ancestors would say)...and all that. Giving up is not my name. My name is Industrious. My name is Diligence. My name is Perseverance. My name is Emily, and I'll be your stylist today. 

Look out world. Look out artsy industries. Here I come....again....

Poetry in forms of pencil strokes

Just call me a starving artist

I've hit an imaginary wall. My spirits are low. My clients are few. My paychecks...nearly non-existent. They told me that starting out would be hard, and I believed them, but it's never felt that way till now. The past three weeks I have felt useless, something I despise greatly. My hands have been idle as I watch my people doing what I love all around me, instead I sweep hair and wash towels.

It's funny to me, how independent I have become. Yet, I find my dependency on God to have grown equally. It's very hard for me to look at life when it gets like this and then to look at God and say, alright, I trust you to provide and take care of me, and to wholeheartedly believe it without any doubts in my mind. I'm not a control freak, but there are some things,( like clients, income, etc.) that could I control them you bet your aunt's hat I would. The fact that I have no control over how many people will sit in my chair this week keeps me uneasy, and thankful for those who do continue to keep coming back.

Surrendering is hard for me. I have always been a DIYS, take care of myself, kinda girl. And even though I've seen and experienced God's provision first hand...it's still difficult to say HELP. So, I guess I'm calling this drought of sorts another lesson in trusting and depending.

Thanks to all of you who return to me time and again, you keep my spirits afloat.
And thanks, God, for being so faithful when it's hard for me to be just that.

Quoth the Raven...

http://www.mychloeflower.com/item/The-Raven/472/p2c27

Ok, so fall is officially in full swing, and I found myself asking 'why does everything seem to naturally go...creepy-ish?'  I'm not talking about people getting ready for Halloween, some to a ridiculous extreme. I looked around a couple days ago and realized that October can be beautifully dark and dreary. Splashes of vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows against a swirling backdrop of grey. The trees become skeletons blowing in a chilling breeze. I dunno, I was just wondering...

Along with autumn and Halloween, people drag out one of my favorite authors, Poe. Yes, his stories are a bit unnerving, but there's something about his writing that fully engages my imagination, his stories and poetry are, although dark, quite beautiful. And, to my surprise, I found out just a few days ago that a movie is being made called: The Raven,
( WARNING: The trailer is a little creepy and gore is strongly inferred, so if you have a really good imagination and would like to avoid conjuring up images of  not so nice crime scenes, DON'T WATCH IT! If you have no problem with it...carry on ;)    staring John Cusack as the infamous and tortured Edgar Allen Poe.


I also found, and devoured all too quickly, a book based off of the works of Poe, called Nevermore.

I almost want to tell you not to pay any attention to the description, because I don't want you to stereotype it into a fictitious-teen-romance-novel...Sure, there is an underlying element of romance in it, it's hard to find a book without that these days, BUT it's not sappyoverdoneinyourface. It's not even the main point of the book. If it makes it any better, or more appealing, IT HAS NO VAMPIRES! ;) What it is, is intense, gripping, slightly creepy, and without a sequel until January! *sigh*

This book involved me so much (for what reason I know not) that even though I've finished it and am experiencing my usual post-good book-depression, I still can't stop carrying it around with me and staring at the cover...I think I'll probably read it again...now. Just because I was not at all ready for the story to end and to say my temporary goodbye to the characters. Anyways...you should all go read it. It's fast and crazy, and you don't have to enjoy it...but who knows? You just might.

Talk Like A Pirate Day

"Captain Hook must remember

Not to scratch his toes.

Captain Hook must watch out

And never pick his nose.

Captain Hook must be gentle

When he shakes your hand.

Captain Hook must be careful

Openin' sardine cans

And playing tag and puring tea

And turnin' pages of his book.

Lots of folks I'm glad I aint -

But mostly Captain Hook!"

~Shel Silverstein.

For those of you who like mustaches and epicly drawn cartoons, this is the link for you.

Tell me I'm not crazy, well maybe just a little bit....

I am pleased to say that autumn is here. And I gladly welcome it with open arms, steaming coffee, and comfy hoodies. Late September through early November continue to be my favorite months, and Fall my favorite season. The change is so tangible, expressed through colors, and smells, it refuses to be ignored. I find that my imagination goes wild as my senses explore this magnificent transformation.


Being a part-time employed gal, missing her brother, with some time on her hands and errands to do, I found myself adventuring through neighboring towns yesterday. Purchasing chemicals, picking up job applications, making bank runs, and visiting one of my favorite places in the world: the library. 


There I returned all my books, and went to find some new world to delve into. Success, I think. I left the great hall of literature with only two books in my bag this time, I had learned my lesson on over ambitious amounts of reading with lack of time to do so, and was intrigued by the story line of my new companions. (Happenstance Found, by P.W. Catanese, an author who apparently lives in CT, and The Wednesday Wars, by Gary D. Schmidt an author who does not live in CT ;)


I pushed through the double doors out into the gray, damp world of downtown Manchester. And as I made my way to my parallel parked car, leather boots sloshing through puddles, something about the whimsical plot of Happenstance tickled a corner of my brain....I pondered it the rest of the day as I listened to the pitter patter of rain on the windowpanes. Finally my imagination got the better of me. I grabbed an old notebook filled with loose papers and a tale of epicness in the the making,(a little story I had long since put down and nearly forgotten about) set up camp in my garage, and prepared for a walk in the rain.


 With leather boots laced up and a heavy barn jacket I strolled up towards my cul-de-sac. The street was deserted and lit by four or five dim lamps. The air was pleasantly fresh, and I lifted my face towards the sky inviting the rain to soak me. It may sound terribly odd, but trudging through dark streets in the rain can be quite invigorating. As I traveled up the street my mind went on many adventures. So many stories, so many possibilities. 


Returning to my garage I slouched down in a canvas chair, notebook in my lap, doors wide open, the sound of rain and chill of mist floating through. I sat there for the next hour familiarizing myself with old friends, and reconstructing new and exciting plot lines. Thinking up all sorts of adventures that I wish I could have. Once or twice my father came out with looks of confusion, amusement, and what may have been concern for my sanity. I was inspired. Blame it on the weather. Blame it on my new pair of scruffy leather boots. Blame it on boredom, or a lack of adventure. Blame it on my lunacy. I don't care. I had fun. 

I escaped for just a little bit, and it was most refreshing to do so.

I've been to the dentist a thousand times....

The next line should go something like "But I 'know' the 'drill'", but I don't actually. I am not one who has had to make any sort of visits to my dentist to have things drilled out of my teeth. I go in twice a year for a cleaning. Something at which I roll my eyes to. The only things I've ever heard them say is "Looking great! Floss more often, and think about removing those wisdom teeth." I am on good terms with the dentist, I suppose. I sit there and tolerate them telling me things I already know, while they poke around in my mouth with latex covered hands and pointy metal implements. blech How I hate people poking around in my mouth. It gives me the creeps, and I think I could do without that.

But last Tuesday morning I went in for a consultation to go about having my wisdom teeth removed. The prior weekend one of them decided to give me grief, causing my gums and cheek to swell and preventing me from eating solid food or really opening my mouth at all. I was living on Advil. By the time I got into the appointment my mouth had calmed down and I was finally able to eat more solid foods. But as soon as I opened my mouth for the Dr. I knew what was coming.

"Yeah, those need to come out." I left the office with 2 prescriptions to control infection (If he didn't like the look of my gums then he would have been terrified by them just a few days before) and two days between me and oral surgery. I heaved a great sigh and then plotted out the delicious meals that I could eat before losing the ability to chew for who knew how long.

Many of my friends have had their wisdom teeth out, and nearly all of them have had varying experiences. From staying in bed all week, unable to do anything, to going to dance class the night of (albeit a little loopy), to not having any side effects save chipmunk cheeks, to having their face swell and the newly empty sockets becoming uncomfortably infected. So, to be honest, I had no idea what to expect.

Friday morning arrived. I downed two horse-sized pills that did not feel comfy in my empty stomach and within the hour found myself patiently awaiting my teeth to be ripped out of my mouth. Yay.

Finally, they lead me to a funny smelling room with a sketchy looking dental torture chair in the middle of floor. The friendly woman sat me down, asking how I was while placing sensors on my ankles, thumb, and wrist. Through the open door I could peer across the hallway where there was a man partially hidden behind a curtain, bloody gauze in his hand, frustrated attendant by his side, wits not totally about him. Well, that's comforting... I thought :/ Finally the doctor came in, asked a few more questions, briefing me once more on the procedure. A mask was placed over my nose, sending oxygen up my surprised nostrils. They strapped my right arm to the chair to ensure my hand with the thumb sensor didn't go any where, and sprayed some freezing liquid on my left arm, numbing it for the injection of anesthesia. I became aware of two hands, one on either side of my head, blocking my peripherals, and felt like a horse with blinders. Did they think I was about to freak out? Did they not see my ears? My nose with a metal stud in it? I have no problem with needles, and was ready to just pass out and take a nap. It was weird, and annoying.

Finally, the ceiling started doing funny things and I must have looked a little amused because the doctor commented on the effects that should be taking place right about now....and that was it. I was gone. Can't say I felt a thing. Next thing I knew I was sitting in the back recovery room, not able to remember the trip from chair to hallway, mind coming quicker to consciousness than body. (an irritating phenomenon when you wish to simply leave)

And so, unable to feel my face, I left the building. Onwards to pick up drugs and starbucks :) As it turned out, I never felt any pain, (not because I was taking painkillers, on the contrary, I've slacked a bit in that area. They make me a zombie during the day, and unable to sleep at night) but much annoyance has occurred over not being able to chew real food. Living on a liquid diet with everything seeming to be dairy based is not enjoyable for an Italian who enjoys eating hearty, home cooked meals...

So, here I am. After nearly 3 weeks of not eating food, nearly 4 days of having less teeth, and nearly finished with popping pills, I am just peachy. Happy that I wasn't bed ridden for a week. Happy that I was up and running just a few hours after the procedure, even though I resembled a drugged up zombie. And happy that my little bro called me from school just to see how I was doing :)

...Not to say that I would willingly go through that again....

A state of melancholy

"Oh sweet melancholy

eyes full of tears will be

longing for someone to comfort me

Oh will you sooth my sorrowful soul?

And keep the tears at bay?

If I unlocked my heart

would you come in,

or run away?

Oh sorrowful soul! Oh heavy heart!

My body's full of fears

For you, my love, have gone away

And left me, lonesome, here

I know that you're not out of reach

And homeward bound will be

But while you're gone, I'll sing our song,

And melancholy be."

And off they go....

Today is the day. My little bro left for college early this a.m. with my parents, leaving me behind with the younger sibs for the weekend. It was weird to see his room become a mass of clothing and belongings, to watch it turn from chaos, to organization, to...emptiness. I'm jealous of his adventure, but not so happy that he's left me here.

My best friend isn't coming home for dinner tonight....

I know that the rest of my family will still be here, and so will my friends...but, to be honest, it's not the same at all. I am in a state of melancholy.

I'm not worried about him at all. Try as I did to corrupt his brilliant mind, he turned out just fine. The only thing he may be in danger of is hiding in his room for weeks on end, studying....

I will miss our late nights of watching Disney movies, Monty Python, RSC, Pushing Daisies....

I will miss our random musical duets, making up fake lyrics to songs we don't understand.

I'll miss his strange humor, and how well it plays off mine.

Movie quoting during awkward moments....pie making at midnight....

...I won't miss the video game music....(sorry bro.)

But, he's left, and along with him go a couple of our good friends. I'm excited to see how they've changed and grown when they all come home.

;)

Call me crazy, I'll say ambitious

Yesterday I took a trip to the Library with my mother and sister. I had no plans to borrow any books. After all, I was in the middle of two, and have one on loan from a friend of mine that I haven't cracked open yet! It was gonna be a quick in and out returning job.....or so I thought.

We got in there, I placed my two returns on the desk, and then I looked around me. I am fascinated by libraries. Their nooks and crannies, rows upon rows of shelves crammed with books, the smell of dust, love, and old paper. Sometimes I imagine what it would be like to live there. To be locked away at night, everything is quiet, the building empty, the lights glow softly, and you are alone with millions upon millions of books.

What would you do? Roam the isles aimlessly? Start from one end of the library and make your way to the other, reading every single book that lay between? Find secret rooms and passages that are hidden deep in the belly of the building(I'm sure they're there....but maybe not, if your libraries aren't as old as mine). Make a fort out of books. Stand on the balcony overlooking the entrance hall and recite Shakespeare at the top of your lungs, with all the emotion you could muster. Sing....I'm sure the acoustics are great in there ;) Slide back and forth on the ladders on wheels like it was a ride at the amusement park(You know you've always wanted to do that, don't even lie to me!)

As you can see, I've given this a lot of thought and imagination. When I have my own place, there WILL be a room fully devoted to books. I promise you. (Actually...that's what my room is starting to look like now....)

Anyways, I dropped my books off and started looking around. I couldn't help it. The books were calling to me, how could I not answer? It's like a game of hide and seek. You have to keep going until you find that one story that is calling for you. My sister grabbed my hand and we headed for the children's section, one of my favorite rooms. I came out of there with at least three books, two children's horror stories(E.A.Poe style) and one that seemed to be about an evil, mind controlling puppeteer....

Next, I moved to the teen section, a place I tend to stay away from cause I feel the quality is a little less....something. It's hard to find a good story in there, I think. They're all mostly brainless young adult romance novels seemingly to consist of lots of drama, sex, drugs, or vampires(among other supernatural creatures) They have their place, and can be fun to read, but I need something with substance. Something that I can devour and feel full, not inhale and afterwords wonder, "What did I just read?" So, I hunted until I found four other books. Just as I was starting to lose feeling in my arms from my massive load of literature, I ventured out into the main hall where I found my mother and sister browsing among he 'new summer reads' display. There I found my very last one....OK. I was really done now. Really. I mean, I only have 3 weeks to start and finish most of these, and then maybe another 3 if I don't get exhausted of what's left and feel like renewing any of them.

I decided that I would read one with my coffee and breakfast in the morning, bring another one to work with me(hoping that I would really be too busy and not have time to read), and pour over a third one before bed. So...three a day...I'm not even gonna bother pretending that I have an estimated end date on any of them....All I aim for is to finish one, and start the next.

8 books, 3 weeks, no time....We'll see how this goes.

You may call me crazy....But I'd prefer to label myself as ambitiously-out-of-my-mind. Besides, sane people never have much fun anyways. So, I intend to constantly be hopping out of my world and into 3 others everyday at various times :) I think it'll be refreshing, escaping from my reality. And maybe inspire me to start writing my little stories again.

Books I borrowed(In case you were wondering):

• Puppet Master - by Joanne Owen
• Uncle Monague's Tales of Terror - by Chris Priestley
• Tales of Terror from the Black Ship - by Chris Priestley
• Beauty - by Robin McKinley
• A Kiss in Time - by Alex Flinn
• Stardust - by Neil Gaiman
• Freaks - by Annette Curtis Klause
• Clockwork Angel - by Cassandra Clare

I've found that I gravitate towards books on Carnivals, Pirates, retellings of fairy tales, sci-fi stories set in 1800's England, and over all whimsical books with darker themes....do the books you read tell anything about your personality? I don't even know what these say about mine....

HAPPY READING!

My Ocean and Me

'Sometimes, I feel like the ocean and me
Have more things in common than you can see
I'm sorry if I've hurt you
Immersed you in my pain
Drowned you in my passion
Swallowed by a wave of rage

Lately I've been the definition of confusion
Switching from blue skies to rain
Back and forth from peace to trepidation
Changing in the blink of your eye

When all I wish to do
Is hold you in my arms
And rock you back and forth
To the rhythm of our hearts
It's you who calms my stormy moods
And stirs me up inside
You don't know it, but it's true
But these feelings I must hide,
From you....

Yes, I'm as uncertain as the sea
Unsure of just who I should be
If I should dash your heart upon the rocks
Or pull you out to play
Should I let you float on by?
Watching from the corner of my eye
As I let you gently slip away
Unaware of me....

Yes, sometimes I feel like the sea,
Which means you don't really know me...

At all.'

and I told you to be patient, and I told you to be fine...

I found this song about a month ago and it is constantly getting stuck in my head. There's something haunting about the guitar, and the simplicity of it....and I particularly like the way the guy bangs on the drum, and the man's cool tin-like guitar....

Tenth sonnet

For shame deny that thou bear'st love to any
Who for thyself art so unprovident:
Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,
But that thou none lov'st is most evident;
For thou art so possessed with murd'rous hate
That 'gainst thyself thou stick'st not to conspire,
Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate
Which to repair should be thy chief desire.
O, change thy thought, that I may change my mind.
Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love?
Be as thy presence is, gracious and kind,
Or to thyself at least kindhearted prove:
Make thee another self for love of me,
That beauty still may live in thine or thee.
- shakespeare


- Posted from emikel's iPhone -

Being Still, and Knowing...

Well hello there, land of bloggers. I come to you with a mind overflowing with wonderings. Within the past two weeks I have found myself to be befuddled with emotions, and thoughts. My brother graduated last weekend and will be leaving us in a couple months. I will be sad losing him to college, we are very close and I will miss his humor and company greatly. There is friend drama, as always, that leaves me confused and drained as I try to figure out where exactly I stand in all of it....And work....always work.

I was blessed with an amazing imagination and love of dreaming, but sometimes I wish I could just stop thinking. I've shared my frustrations and confusion with some of my closest friends.

Feeling vulnerable, and sharing what's really on my mind is not something I'm used to. I have this rather dangerous tendency to pretend that everything is fine on my end. Shutting emotions and troubles away in a box deep in the back of my mind. But I can only talk to my friends so much before I feel like I am vomiting the same conversations on them over and over and over! (Sorry for that mental picture....although, if you are picturing physical letters of the alphabet raining down on my friends, then by all means laugh...)

*thank you everyone who has visited me at the salon in the past two weeks, btw. You guys are awesome!

With all this rolling around in my head, becoming tangled and more confusing as it gets analyzed over and over, I have found myself mentally writing psalms, drinking way more coffee than is probably healthy(which probably isn't slowing my brain down at all) and spending vast amounts of time sitting on a very special couch that is living on my porch. This couch is a glider that has been around circa 1930? maybe earlier. As far as I know it has spent most of it's life rocking back and forth on the porch of the Upper Clubhouse, an ancient building in the middle of Harriman state park in upstate New York, until two years ago when the owners of one of the appartments in the upper clubhouse decided they wanted it thrown away. WHAT! But you can't have camp without the glider!

We came back to camp one evening to discover the huge wrap around porch empty of this nostalgic piece. My brother, who works as part of the maintenance team, informed us of it's relocation to the dumpster. I was upset. I loved this glider! I was ready and willing and trying to convince my family to drive down there and load it up in our van and drive home with it in the dead of night! We totally would've been able to get it home and be back before 4am....if we left 'now'.... My father wasn't really thrilled with my spontaneous plans for adventure, and told me to let it go...but with my ardent arguing I had planted ideas in the mind of my mother. So....we went to bed, I slept in the kitchen...or was it the common room....and woke up to find that my father's mind had been changed... So, my mother and I prepared for a quick escape. We loaded up the skeleton of the glider, much to the pleasure of some of the older camp members who had also grown up with the couch and hated to see it thrown away, and took off to home. We met my grandparents half way and they took it back to our house. The two of us were back at camp before late afternoon, both of us beaming with excitement for what would be waiting to greet us at home.

Yes. I stole the camp glider.

...It makes me wonder what now sits on the porch of this enormous old house that sits atop the hill that overlooks more or less the entire grounds of Camp K-20, a family camp that has been around for about 100 years.

My family and I have had the privilege of hiding out there for a couple weeks each summer for 6 or 7 consecutive years. Last year we couldn't go because of my school schedule, and we hope to at least chill for a weekend there this summer if we can.

But when you're up there, it's like you're hidden from the rest of the world. It's wonderful. It's quiet and peaceful and such an escape. (Escapeeeee'....that's funny, it's spelled just like 'escape'!) And it's a place where you do a lot of crazy stuff, reckless stuff, fun stuff, and a lot of thinking...No one seems to really care where you go, as long as you wander into the kitchen when you're hungry. Tabs aren't really kept, and there's a vast amount of freedom. (Probably because there's not too much trouble you can get into up there...) But on rainy days, the whole camp shuts itself away and becomes silent. People nap, sneak away to the 'real world' aka - walmart, or, if you're one of the lucky few who owns a tv up there, you watch movies. Me? I liked to make a cup of hot coffee, grab one of my dad's big comfy sweatshirts, and gently sway back and forth on the glider.

Something about being alone, inhaling the wet air, watching the rain fall while being sheltered by the porch roof, it was peaceful, calming. I felt like I was sitting there, alone but not alone, with my chest ripped open and my heart exposed. Everything in my confused mind made sense as I looked out over a hill covered in wild blueberry bushes and ancient forestry.

And right now, I wish I could escape' to that. I guess, it's what I call "Being still, and knowing."

But I guess I'll just content myself with another cuppa coffee, maybe some poetry, and a gentle sway on the glider as I be still and know some more...

Sparrows....

"Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?" Matthew 6:25-26

Hello dear bloggers,

Last I typed to you I was anxiously awaiting the build of my clientele. Well, I'm still waiting. The only difference is the amount of money I am getting paid. When I wrote my last post, my hope for clients was more of a call for something to do. I was still being paid by the hour, whether I was doing hair or not. Since then I've been taken off hourly pay and am now working solely on commission. Oh, commission. I have mixed feelings over you. The way it works at my salon is that the client pays for their service and then half of that money goes to the salon and the other half goes to me. 50/50. Not so bad, I guess....unless you don't have a steady flow of work coming through your door. My hope for clients has turned into a heavy NEED of clients.

A few weeks ago I went out to breakfast with one of my friends. We sat there and confessed our needs to constantly be working. Creating bits and pieces of art - art that stands unmoving, and art that gets up and walks around. This need to create, and change is part of who we are. We talked about artists like us and how we 'fit' into the great big artistic world out there.

"Fit" is a silly word to use. As if you could put us in a box. Never have I seen an artist who is shaped like a square... We talked about the struggle of being in the world, and not of it. The total blur of moral lines, showing love, being salt, and being light, and being scared to stand out....

We spoke our concerns about how we love what we do, but how financially hard it can be.

The fact that I can't control the amount of people that come in requesting me, that my paycheck isn't steady, really bugs me out. I wouldn't say that I'm a control freak, but there are some things that, were I able to control, I would. This is where I have to let go. I've always been a very independent girl, just ask my mother. If I wanted something, I would work to make it happen. I could do anything. I now find myself very dependent, and very out of control. And I don't like it.

You've heard the phrase "Be still, and know that I AM God."? Well, lately I've found myself being still and knowing quite often. I'm learning to become dependant. God is teaching me to depend on him for clients. He's giving me patience. Now, it's hard, I'm still sitting around alot and waiting for people to call, and my paycheck is pretty shabby, but not once have I gone into work and left without having done at least one client that day. What do I do in my spare time? I pray that God would send me walk-ins. And he does. He is faithful, and I need him. A lot.

So, next time we'll have to see how I'm doing with patience and my contentedness with dependency....(and not gonna lie, 'next time' will probably be quite a while from now.... ;) We'll see how sparrow like I've become.

You may say that I'm a dreamer

I'm a strange person. Part of what makes my personality so strange are the dreams that I have. Ever since I was little I've had these crazy dreams. Being babysat by evil creatures that belonged in Dr. Seuss books, being a pink robot and scaling a dangerous, snow-covered mountain in the middle of summer, getting married in the grocery store (reception immediately to follow in the swimmng pool....), my mother driving on the wrong side of the road with hamsters running around in our car, going to the set of LOTR just to find out that the Ents are made of twigs and Frodo owed his acting career to my family....Or, my personal favorite: The youth of America is kidnapped and forced to live and work for a secret society of Elephants with world domination on the brain, all living in a purlieu underground city beneath NYC....

Yes, you may say that I'm a dreamer. To say that I have an over-active imagination would be a vast(and insulting) understatement.
It has become apparent that I am just a creative and passionate person. If I'm not creating beautiful things with my hands, I'm daydreaming about road tripping, picnicing, house building, dress designing, music writing(something I can't do but wish I could), world traveling, coffee drinking, book writing, running around in disguises, planning the perfect crime, solving a dasterdly deed, and all around being spontaneous....And it would appear that the things I don't physically get to do play out mentally for me at night...no matter what it is I did that day, what I may have eaten late-late at night, I dream bizarre and wonderful dreams.

Someday I think I'll fill a book with all these peculiar thoughts that meander like a restless wind through my brain....it's a dream of mine ;)

waiting patiently...or trying.

Well, it's been about a month since I started working at the Velvet Touch and so far I'm really liking it. I'm only there 3 days a week, about 8hrs at a time, but I'm happy...for the most part. Unfortunately I spend a lot of my time sweeping floors, confirming appointments and washing towels. I was told that the first year is always the hardest, making money and building up clientele...so far that's been pretty true. I have had many people tell me they should give me a call, come see me, have me work on them....then I don't hear from them.... It's rather disheartening. I can tell that this will be the hardest part of my first year woes. At any given time there are about 10 different things on my mind, this topic may be the one that weighs the heaviest. But it will come...someday... Until then, I will be content with the faithful friends I do have that come to see me, returning time and again. Thanks guys! You mean the world to me!

just thinking....

Sitting here in front of an empty page.
So many thoughts rolling around in my head.
I don't know what to say first, wondering if I should say anything at all.
I don't know where I'm going, sometimes I wish I had a map. But just because I'm wandering doesn't mean I'm lost. I'm figuring things out and having an adventure, keeping wisdom and patience close by my side as I learn along the way...

Forgive me for thinking out loud, as vague as it may be...but this is me.

And so it begins...again...

Last I talked to you bloggers about work, I was running out of time and lamenting searching for another job. Well, the searching, though sad, wasn't as painstakingly long and drawn out as I had thought it would be. I did a lot of praying for God to give me favor, wisdom, patience, courage, and such. Like, a lot of praying.

Then one day I was reminded that there was a woman who owned a salon, whose kids went to school with my brother. I went one day to pick him up, hoping that maybe this potential employer would be there and we could chat really quick, but her kids ended up being in after school care and she wasn't there.

So I went home, left a message for her at her house, and then sat back and waited. A couple days later, my mom and I had just come from the gym and had books to drop at the library on our way home. Mom pulls up to the curb, I hop out, thinking I'm only going to run these books in, plop them on the counter and run back out.

Upon entering the library one is faced with shelves of fictitious new arrivals...and if you're me, the perspective employer you called a couple days ago.

I saw her, did a double take, then rushed to the counter, left my books, and ran outside to the car.

"MOM!" I said startled, "MOM, I think I just saw Mrs. R!"

"Did you talk to her?" she asked, eyebrows raised. ...well, no...I was in my gym clothes, my hair was messy, pulled back into a scruffy ponytail. I was wearing last night's makeup.

"NO! Mom, I look awful!" "Well...we're going in to talk to her, how often does this happen? Come on!"

She jumped out of the car, I followed. This went against everything I had been taught or told. When meeting a potential employer, specifically one that owns a HAIR SALON where they practiced cosmetology - the art and science of beauty, where they made people feel gorgeous and happy, YOU are supposed to look the part. Hair done nice, make up noticeably clean(not all over your face because you slept on it), clothes professional. You are NOT supposed to look like you rolled out of bed and went straight to the gym...like me.

We walked into the Library, found Mrs. R, and approached her. She remembered us from a beach trip early last summer. Good, I thought, she remembers me. Then, she asked if I was working...

"Well, actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about..." and so it went from there. She seemed very enthusiastic as we traded numbers. She talked about her salon, asked about what I could do, and school. "This is fantastic, such a God thing!" she said. Yeah, I think she was right :)

I gave her a call the following Tuesday and went to the salon for an interview. It went very well. The salon was lovely, Mrs. R was really nice, and they use REDKEN!!!! The meeting was over in 15 minutes and I was told she would call me on Monday with their decision, she still had to talk with her business partner. I left smiling, having given her plenty of references, and hopefully, plenty of incentive to hire me. During the interview I wasn't really nervous, as I had been at Gugliotti's. It felt comfortable. Good.

A week went by, and things got busy. I ended up giving her a buzz on Tuesday. "I definitely want to move foreword with this." were her words. And with that we set up another meeting for the following Monday to talk about it even more. It seemed like a lot of waiting, but it also seemed to be working out, so I kept praying and stayed patient.

Three days ago, Monday the 28th of February, I went over to the Salon(in Vernon) and sat down in the comfy red leather love seat in Mrs. R's office. She asked me if I wanted to go foreword with this, to which my reply was a resounding YES! She then handed me product books that I (still) need to study, went over what she was thinking schedule, pay, training-wise. It all sounded wonderful! This feels like it will be a good place to call "home", and I hope that that is what it turns out to be. I start this Monday. I'm happy, but I'm still praying. A lot of praying.

It's been an interesting weekend, and the start of the week was pretty amazing as well. So Imma keep hoping and praying and thinking, and getting ready, and thinking and praying some more.

Ok Vernon, here I come!

pretty little thieves....

One of my favorite artists, Jon Foreman, performs my new favorite song in the old country style.

Doodles in the afternoon

- Posted from emikel's iPhone -

Coffee Shop Romance

It is a daydream of mine to have a date in a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop. Somewhere artsy, and eclectic. To sit there in comfy chairs tucked away in a corner, holding hot drinks in our hands. Spending hours talking, chatting, smiling, dreaming, reading, enjoying each other until the world outside of the windows has gone dark, and any dredges of our drinks are cold. It's a simple day dream. Not impossible. But very pleasent. Then I found this music video...and it made me smile.

Poetry

Summering - Robert Frost

I would arise and in a deram go on---
Not very far, not very far---and then
Lie down amid the sunny grass again,
And fall asleep till night-time or next dawn.

In sleepy self-sufficiency I'd turn;
I'd seek new comfort and be hard to please---
Far in a meadow by an isle of trees,
All summer long amid the grass and fern.

Forests would have to be all round about,
And the mead silent, and the grasses deep,
Else I might not gain such a tireless sleep!
I could not slumber if the wains were out!

Hi. My name is Emily, and I'm a vegetarian.

Ok, you got me. I am not a long term veggie head, just for the month of February.

My brother came home a couple months ago with a proposition; A few of his school friends had suggested that for the month of February they all go without meat. I questioned the reason behind this, just cause I was curious. It sounded like a good idea to me, I don't eat much meat anyways, some of it makes me sick, some of it we just don't buy for budget reasons...

I never really got a straight answer as to why my brother's friends wanted to do this, I guess because they just wanted to try it out? Anyways, February rolled around and 2/3rds of my family decided to go with it.

Menu wise, I know my mom is stressed. Most of our dinner time meals consisted of Chicken, rice, some sort of sauce, and a spoonful of veggies on the side of your plate. I wish I could say that since deleting meat from the menu our dinners have been very exciting, but that would be lying. Actually, I really can't even remember anything we've eaten...it's like we haven't. Eaten, that is.

But last night I helped my mother prepare a pretty darn tasty meal. Black bean burgers and zesty carrots! and it was pretty darn delicious.



Preheat oven to 475.

Drain and rinse your beans, then pour into a smallish/medium sized bowl and mash them till they're kind of sticky.


Next, pour in in 1/2 bell pepper (the recipe said to use green, but I thought the red added a prettier color), 1/2 onion, and 3(or more if you'd like) cloves of garlic, all of which you've minced and diced and thrown in a food processor before adding to the mashed beans.





In a small bowl crack an egg. add 1 TBS. of chili powder, 1 TBS cumin, and 1 tsp Hot sauce.

Whip it all together, and then add to the bean mixture.

*******

Once the spices and beans are well mixed, pour in bread crumbs. The recipe called for 1/2 cup, but I ended up using a little more.

When the mixture is sticking together enough to support itself, form 4-5 patties and place on a baking sheet.

Place in your 475 degree oven for 10 minutes on each side.

They were a little dry. VERY flavorful, but still dry. The only thing I would do differently would be to drizzle a little olive oil over the burgers before baking.

You also could grill these, 8 minutes for each side.

chop 1 1/2 cups of clean, grated carrots.

Cook in 1/2 cup of water for about 5 minutes. The longer you cook the carrots, the softer they will be, so if you want softer carrots...continue cooking.

When carrots are done cooking, drain them, BUT SAVE 1/4 CUP OF THE WATER!!!

For the sauce, combine the saved water (1/4 C.), 2 TBS grated onion and juice, 1 TBS prepared horse radish, 1/2 C. Mayo., 1/4 C. (or more, to taste!) grated cheddar cheese, 1/2 tsp salt and 1/4 tsp pepper. Mix together, add carrots and mix some more :)

Spoon into a buttered, 2 quart casserole dish.

Then, in another bowl, combine 1 C. fresh breadcrumbs, 1.4 C. butter(melted), and 1 tsp paprika.

Sprinkle over carrots and bake at 350 for 20 minutes.

If I don't have love, I am nothing.

Love

[luhv]

-noun

1 - a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.

2 - a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or Friend

...

4 - a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart

...

9 - affectionate concern for the well-being of others

...

12 - the benevolent affection of God for His creation, or the reverent affection due from them to God...

So, Valentines day. A day for husbands to be uxorious, for wives to love and be lavished, for boyfriends to buy their girlfriends flowers and teddy bears, and children to eat gross little hearts that say the sweetest little things on them....right? If that's what you think of when you hear "Valentine's Day" then you have a very shadowed, very dumbed down, very commercialized idea of what this 'holiday' is really about, and how it got here, what it stands for.

"You mean, you don't think of these things when you hear 'Valentines Day'?"

Well...no. Not really.

Naturally one can't help but have images of rock hard conversation hearts and roses pop into their minds, but I don't think about these things because that's not how the story goes.

It all started with St. Valentine. If you don't know who he is I suggest you go to my friends blog, she just did a wonderful post giving Valentine's life story:http://mynameisnotking.blogspot.com/2011/02/hi-im-isabella-and-im-holiday-killjoy.html.

Long story short, St. Valentine was a bishop in 207 AD who believed that marriage was created by God, he lived in a Rome ruled by the emperor Claudius, who banned marriage due to his troops missing their families.

But Valentine, in secret, was performing marriages. The bishop was found out and Claudius had him jailed and eventually executed, but not before befriending the jailer's blind daughter who was miraculously healed and converted. With her sight she was able to read his good-bye note to her, signed "From your Valentine". (Here's where you have an ah-HA! moment)

This man died because he would not deny his God, the man died for love.

When I think of Valentine's day, I think of this; I think of why we love. We love, I love, because God first loved us. If you don't believe me, go read the bible. I do not say this in a "Jesus loves me, this I know..." Sunday school sort of way, although that is kinda what it is... it is no less as real as what I know.

Between Genesis and Revelation lies a passionate story of love, betrayal, lies, absolution, teaching, learning, death, and resurrection. And no, this story is not G rated.

We were created. That how it starts out, we were created to walk with God. We Disobeyed Him, and were punished, but the love never went away. Years and years go by. Generation after generation sees the same thing: We love, we run away, we are wooed back. Love. Run. Wooed.

Repeatedly we were distracted by some idol that became a god to us, and our God would become jealous. The idol would be destroyed, we'd repent for our idol-affair, and be reminded of the great love we ran away from.

Many times we are compared to whores...how does that make you feel? At one point God had his prophet Hosea marry a prostitute, to represent to us the church's marriage to God.

"Find a whore and marry her. Make this woman the mother of your children.

And here's why: This whole country has become a whorehouse, unfaithful to me, God."

Hosea 1:2

"And now, here's what I'm going to do:

I'm going to start all over again.

I'm taking her back out into the wilderness

where we had our first date, and I'll court her.

I'll give her bouquets of roses.

I'll turn 'heart brake valley' into 'acres of hope'.

She'll respond like she did as a young girl,

those days when she was fresh out of Egypt."

"At that time" - this is God's message still -

"You'll address me, 'Dear husband!'

never again will you address me, "My slave-master!'

I'll wash your mouth out with soap, get rid of all the dirty false-god names,

not so much as a whisper of those names again...

And then I'll marry you for good - Forever!

I'll marry you true and proper, in love and tenderness.

Yes, I'll marry you and neither leave you nor let you go.

You'll know me, God, for who I really am.

On that very same day, I'll answer -

I'll answer the sky, sky will answer earth,

Earth will answer grain and wine and olive oil,

and they'll all answer *Jezreel.

I'll plant her in the good earth.

I'll have mercy on '*No-Mercy'.

I'll say to '*Nobody', 'You are my dear Somebody,'

and he'll say 'You're my God!' "

Hosea 2:14-23

*Jezreel, No-Mercy, and Nobody were the names of the three children that Hosea's wife had...

Verses are taken from the contemporary translation: The Message.

If you want to understand this better, I suggest you read Hosea yourself. I also suggest that you start in Genesis...then read 1&2 Samuel, and Judges, and Psalms, and Proverbs, and Song of Solomon....and Luke, and John, and Hebrews, and Revelation.

You may not like what I just said, and it probably isn't what you think of this 'holiday' at all.

But that's ok. When Valentine's come to mind, I think of the love my God has for me, and the great and painful lengths he went through to show me his love, and how much more so he wants mine in return.

And to me, it is a beautiful thing.

*******

...of course, getting flowers and candy and hugs and kisses aren't such bad things either ;)...

We like, we like to party....

Last Wednesday my best friend turned 20. That's right, we've reached the year where crossing the invisible "I'm a Legal Adult" line is far behind us and now...we're just getting old ;) HA!

To celebrate Bella and I ran around a rather amazing and spectacular thrift store called Savers, and later ventured into the mall and F21. What did we do there? Well, we bought clothes (or in my case, purple polka-dotted pillow cases), but really we were there to play one of our favorite games....FINDTHEUGLIESTPIECESOFCLOTHINGANDWEARTHEMALLATTHESAMETIME! It's a fabulous game and Bella and I are the winners. Always.

"Dear stirrup pants,

PLEASE go back to the 90's where you belong. Our feet, no matter how unruly, do not enjoy being strapped to our pants.

Sincerely,

Emily and Bella

Concerned citizens and fashion police.... ;)

What can I say? I've always wanted to be an awkwardly bald, pepto-bismal-pink mannequin...
no, really!

Here are some of our beautiful outfits.

This poncho was so large and boxy....I think you're jealous.

Oh look! It's a double rainbow! I just might cry!

She's so pretty in pink! Just waiting for her some guy to pick her up in his pink tux so they can go to their prom...in the 80's.

don't you just love the neck line?

I have no words.

I do actually think that we lost at this one. Despite the homeschool-stereotype fabric pattern, the colors and the dress are actually pretty cute on her.

Happy Birthday Bella!

Can I have coffee?

Today I brewed my last cup of coffee. I have been watching my supply of Starbucks House Blend deplete day after day, but have procrastinated in replenishing my stock...
Now I have no coffee...

hairbrained ideas

On Saturday I got to do what I love best, dress hair. My bestest best friend of mine hasn't had a haircut since August. She loves growing it all out and then cutting it dramatically. I don't know how she does it, I personally can't go for a such a long period of time without doing something to my hair(as it is I have managed not to cut it for a good 3 months...I am going crazy!).

She emailed me a few days earlier with various pictures and sketches of what she was thinking.

I was excited. I love it when people come to me wanting dramatic change! It makes me happy.

This is her prior to it all. Look at ALL THAT HAIR! (I have to admit I am jealous of her. Her hair seems to grow so fast...mine doesn't...)

Shampood and ready to go. I have to say the worst part of doing this at my house is making my friends lean over my kitchen sink...but I hope to change that soon.

Here we go!

Look at that!

That thing that she is holding in her hand is a neck duster, you may have seen them in old movies, or barber shops. It is fun to play with :)

"Let's make a wig, and name it Marv!" - Bella

Yes, we probably could have made a wiglet with the amount of hair I cut off.

The new style. Lotsa lotsa layers.

The end product. Resulting of much razoring and point cutting... *says in best aussie accent* "Isn't she a beauty?"

After about 15 years of pondering bangs she finally decided to go ahead and take the plunge. She hadn't had bangs since she was in first grade, and they were your customary straight across fringe.

"These are not your 1st grade bangs." I promised her.