I’m Not Who You Think I Am

What if you could hear everything that goes on inside ofGoogly Eyes my brain all the time? All the things that make me who I am at my core, but are truly hidden from the public (and private) at large. The question of being “true to yourself” has been lingering in my mind lately, am I the person on the outside that I think and feel I am on the inside? If I took away the boundaries I’ve set up for myself, would it surprise, impress, frighten, or entice you?

In a relationship, are we better off “baring all” or keeping much to ourselves for inner contemplation? Does the air of mystery fade no matter what unless you keep moving on and re-creating a mystery anew?

When I’m feeling judgemental towards myself and decide it’s a good idea to get up close and personal with a mirror or bathroom scale, I find that often every mirror and scale are vastly different from one another. I can never get an accurate read, I just have to succumb to judging myself via what is going on inside of me. Human beings are in a way, like this mirror. Always reflecting a slightly different part of ourselves but never the whole.

I want to be who you think I am, I want to be who I’ve told you I am. But I also wish I never told you any of that, so that I could just be myself.

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I’m Not Who You Think I Am

What if you could hear everything that goes on inside ofGoogly Eyes my brain all the time? All the things that make me who I am at my core, but are truly hidden from the public (and private) at large. The question of being “true to yourself” has been lingering in my mind lately, am I the person on the outside that I think and feel I am on the inside? If I took away the boundaries I’ve set up for myself, would it surprise, impress, frighten, or entice you?

In a relationship, are we better off “baring all” or keeping much to ourselves for inner contemplation? Does the air of mystery fade no matter what unless you keep moving on and re-creating a mystery anew?

When I’m feeling judgemental towards myself and decide it’s a good idea to get up close and personal with a mirror or bathroom scale, I find that often every mirror and scale are vastly different from one another. I can never get an accurate read, I just have to succumb to judging myself via what is going on inside of me. Human beings are in a way, like this mirror. Always reflecting a slightly different part of ourselves but never the whole.

I want to be who you think I am, I want to be who I’ve told you I am. But I also wish I never told you any of that, so that I could just be myself.

Summer Lovin’

Summer really does go by in the blink of an eye, doesn’t it? It’s already July 23rd! This past week, I had three days off (Friday, Monday, and Tuesday). Naturally, when Wednesday came around, I should’ve been well-rested, well-fed, one with nature, and the very essence of relaxed. However, that did not quite happen. Everyday felt like a mad dash to accomplish, achieve, get to the finish line, and in record time at that. Everything I was doing looked, to the everyday observer like a magical adventure but I realized that sometimes the greatest adventures, the deepest connections, and the most memorable moments happen when you’re just a “stone’s throw away”.

First I drove to the Mountains…

After an action-packed Friday involving working at the farm, and meeting with a man about a horse, I hopped in my car and drove myself to the Catskills, in New York to visit my friend, Colleen. She is doing a Plant Medicine training and needed me to be the guinea pig. I figured, what the heck, a day in the sun in the mountains of New York, walking along the river, and then ingesting some plants to heal me of all my ailments…what could be better!? As soon as I arrived, a wave of homesickness overcame me and I wanted to cry and run back to New Hampshire! My darling love was home babysitting his nephew, who I would’ve loved to watch along with him, and I really missed them both so very much. I also wanted the chocolate waffles that he made for him, which I somehow never get as MY weekend breakfast! Desmond It didn’t help that I was five hours away, I didn’t know anyone, I was scared to walk outside by myself because I didn’t want to be on the next “Disappeared”, and the food was not as tasty as the resort spa food I was expecting.  Thank goodness I came equipped with rice cakes…

I also thought I was going to be stuck there forever because my bank account had spontaneously combusted the day before causing my debit card to malfunction, and I was low on cash. After my friend presented her client (me), I sped home, hoping to duck under all police radars and dove into my warm cozy bed. It’s one of those experiences that was not at all what you thought, you don’t entirely regret it, but you are so happy to be home, it’s silly.

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My Second Adventure…

After a semi-relaxing Sunday, in which I spent unraveling my driving muscles, and dodging killer bees on a hiking trail, I embarked on my second journey of the vacation….a place you can never go wrong….the beach!!! I went with an old high school friend that I have been catching up with, and the whole crew, kids, moms, aunts, nieces, nephews, you get the idea….

The journey from doorstep to beach lasted from 10:30 AM to about 2:30 PM. And in case you’re wondering, yes, we did go to the beach in Timbuktoo. I prefer that one over the one in Kalamazoo because the water is warmer. After a car ride that may as well have been to China, we dove into the waves and enjoyed the sunshine and then drove home. I was busy daydreaming about my new bed, which I did not get to until about 10:00 PM. In case you’re not aware, I am the kind of person that wants every step of my day to be planned, and ideally get me to the point where I am eating dinner by 6:30 PM and in bed by 9:30 PM. Needless to say, this mission was NOT accomplished on Monday. Was it worth it? Yes, I think it was very very worth it. Cause look how sexy we look in our bikinis! Who wouldn’t want to flaunt this?! Beach

The Errand-Packed Day

A day in the life of normalcy was on the docket for Tuesday, working on the farm, stuffing my face with berries, walking with a friend, going to the laundry mat, and of course getting my ducks all in a row to plunge back into the workplace on Wednesday…

The day went sort of as planned, but was more of a mad dash to complete everything before five o’clock. When all was said and done, and I was finally ready to relax….I shut the cabinet that holds the sheets, food processor, pillow cases, and wine glasses (we have a small house and storage options are efficient and well, limited), and I hear my most loathed and dreaded sound, shattering glass. Yup, Emily has just broken the second of the pair of sentimental martini glasses that belong to her boyfriend. Had this been the first, I may have remained calm. Had this been the only glass I’d broken, the only chopstick I Wine and Martini Glassdropped down the porch cracks, the only playing card that I plunked into the water, and the only oil splatter I had ever gotten on the futon, I wouldn’t have minded….but I’m a constant hazard to anything nice, including people. To solve the problem, I decided to go out right there and then and purchase a new martini glass PAIR. I searched two stores and turned up empty, and then I finally came across one at a small, kitchen supply store in town. The glasses were two different prices, and when I inquired of the cashier why this was the case she said, “Oh, you understand how retail is…things come in at different times and we can’t run around re-pricing everything.” I was a little awestruck and appalled, so I kept my mouth shut, well it was dropped open in disbelief, but at least I didn’t make any wise retorts, per my usual modus operandi. I can’t name the cashier, nor the location, for preservation of privacy. Anyway, after spending an arm on one, and just a leg on the other glass, I drove home, made the most Farmdelicious dinner with my FRESH, Organic farm produce, arranged my beautiful, freshly picked flowers, and thanked every fiber of my being, every lucky star I ever had, every ounce of everything to thank, that I was HOME and able to relax!

Then I went to bed and woke up at 5 and the rat race begins again. Who knew you coulBuffd have a case of the Mondays on a Wednesday!?!? You can just start calling me Wonderwoman from now on…..

 

Camping: Not for the Weak

I’ve decided that July is my favorite month of the entire year. First of all, it hasn’t even started yet and it’s already amazing so that gives it ten automatic bonus points. Secondly, it’s a HOT month and it’s got Independence Day, strawberries, ice coffees, martinis on the deck, fireworks, parties, a visit from relatives, just about everything a girl could ever want. This past June was pretty great as well, action-packed as I got to visit my boyfriend’s sister and husband in New Jersey, got some nice vacation days, and yesterday….went camping.

Hiking with Honeybee

I’ve camped a lot in my life; we always were washing our hair in a stream when we camped as kids, I camped with my high school at least once or twice a year, and sometimes we would even opt to camp out in a tent in our backyard while growing up. I was responsible for choosing our Senior Trip destination, and it was a trip to the White Mountains to stay in a remote hut on the Appalachian Trail. That all being said, I figure….I’m an all-around-kinda gal, the kind who can bike, run, walk, hike, camp, go out to a club, and hit up a Broadway musical with ease. I pride myself on the ability to blend in like a fox no matter my surroundings. However, this past weekend, in my attempts to prove myself unbreakable, I learned something new about myself (hint: it wasn’t how many litres of blood could be sucked out of my body by mosquitoes before I pass out and have to be brought to the ER). Amelia Goes Camping

The first lesson I learned was how little in life I can get by with. I already knew this, considering my paycheck is 350 or less a week, and I haven’t bought myself a new article of clothing in who-knows-how-long, but I re-learned it in our 1500 sq. ft. campsite where we had limited resources, and had to walk to toilet and hydrate ourselves.

Secondly, I learned the term “pit toilet” is not something that will ever be part of my vocabulary if I wish to remain OK. The campsites I have been to with my family, friends, and with school must’ve been the Ritz Carlton of campgrounds, because this one had nothing but a “pit toilet” (aka outhouse, poop shack, primitively basic shitter, three-holer, etc.). It was not really OK with me. Neither was peeing on the ground, so I opted for the “toilet”. Call me a Republican, but oh, how I longed to flush.

HatchetI learned that I can DO IT! Being in the outdoors for an entire evening, at my crotchety old age was a big accomplishment. I have stomach issues, I have sleep problems, and I have antsy-over-accomplishing disorder, so for me to settle down, sleep on the ground with little more than a blanket under me, swat bugs with my hand every five seconds and RELAX while my boyfriend rowed me around in a canoe was a major CHECK PLUS! I felt I had truly proven something to myself, and more importantly, how tough I was to the love of my life.

Major life lesson: Camping would be AWESOME if I could do it in my backyard, in the privacy of my own home, and with my stove, sink, and shower. In short, I absolutely LOVE being home! I also LOVE the big, bad outdoors and I hope someday the two are merged in a marriage that you only see in the movies. For that to happen, I need a home on a lake, or in the mountains by a babbling brook. Fortunately, because July is so busy, I’m getting my fix of mountain, camping, lakes, and plant medicine for the next 4 weeks. I’ll have to compare my blood pressure before and after all of this nature.

You know, I reckon I couldn’t be luckier. I’m gonna go get my bandana and play my harmonica. Sit tight ya’ll. 

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Be Careful What you Wish For

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I have had a lot of wishes come true in the past several years. A LOT of wishes. I’m convinced that the fact that true love exists in my life right now is because of all the hard core wishing I did when the clock struck 11:11. But I have a wish right now that is not coming true, I think it may because I am so frazzled and unsure about it when wishing it. I need to get a little more clear, but there is JUST SO MUCH TO WISH FOR RIGHT NOW my brain goes a mile a minute when the opportunity arises! I swear to God, I wish I could clone myself so that I could be my own best friend and personal assistant. We could all be wishing together, in unison the most perfect wishes and we would be the richest ladies in America with huge boobs and blonde hair!  Oh dear, excuse me for a moment, I have to go shut off the narcissist alarm –it’s going off in the other room.

You’ve heard your grandma say it, you’ve heard your school teachers nag it, you’ve heard your parents chime it, “Be careful what you wish for….you just might get it.” Of course the Rolling Stones always said, “You can’t always get what you want…” which seems to be an opposing principle, but I tell you what, they are right. “You get what you need.” 

Lately, I’ve been feeling overworked and underpaid –a feeling a thought would have no room in my life, after my last job in North Carolina. But now, it’s back to the daily grind with a schedule that has me tossing and turning, and running and leaping. My body hurts, my brain hurts, even my fingers hurt as I type this. I have 500 patients names committed to memory, am up on the office happenings from now until October but I haven’t even had time to go get my New Hampshire license yet. So, as my eyeballs get used to the fluctuating temperatures involved in either pouring freezing cold, solitary tears to dishing out warm, sunshiney smiles and hugs to our patients, I have been craving some more time alone to be at ONE with myself and you know, life in general. AKA get my latest and greatest hilarious life experiences updated on my Twitter, Facebook, and Pinterest. Ok that last part was a joke, I hate all those things. I can’t delete my Facebook, however, because there is no other multimedia distraction in my life that allows for pictures of people’s sleeping cats, burping babies, and what kinds of latte they chose to order today.

Right as I wished for alone time…suddenly people were cancelling on me left and right (ok, so that is the less unusual sequence of events), and now my boyfriend is gone THREE nights in a row working ultra late (until midnight!) to make some extra dough for our happy pappy household fund. Which goes hand and hand with…

I walk around moping about how I have no money for days on end, putting my last three dollars from my debit card, into my gas tank, and counting out 1.95 in pennies to buy a Quinoa Health Bar at the health food store. Seconds later, I’m staying late at a report that we have for our patients in the morning because my co-worker’s son is sick, I have a marketing meeting that takes up nearly my entire lunch break, followed by an additional late night at work Thursday evening, and a later Friday morning than planned. Thankfully, my boss believes in rewarding me with free martinis after our Thursday night SURPRISE report. My friend needs me to work at the farm, and I was able to move TWO appointments so that I can fend off payments until next week. Image

Now I’m complaining about too much work and too much alone time! Haha!

I’ve spent most of my life wishing for something, running towards it and having my wish come true. Only to realize that I need to tweak my wishing just a bit in order to get what I really want. I’m a firm believe that what you seek, will come to you. If you are working hard to make it happen, and not resisting the many forms it may find you in. So now, for my next two wishes….

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What, did you think I would ACTUALLY tell you what they were? Don’t take me for a fool 😉 

Emptying the Trash

Mac Book Air

I had the rare opportunity for some alone time this evening, in which I did a lot of computer work. I have a lovely little Mac Book Air upon which I sit like Miss Muffet on her Tuffet. I am now questioning whether or not I should have sat on it as hard, because it’s having some issues with being as slow as an old dinosaur. Coupled with the observance of my boyfriend’s iPhone 4S slowly downloading it’s way into the dead cellphone abyss, I have come to the conclusion that the reason these contraptions are not operating full force is because of Planned Obsolescence. For those of you who did not take Economics of the New World, “Planned obsolescence or built-in obsolescence is a policy of planning or designing a product with a limited useful life, so it will become obsolete, that is, unfashionable or no longer functional after a certain period of time. Planned obsolescence has potential benefits for a because to obtain continuing use of the product the consumer is under pressure to purchase again, whether from the same manufacturer (a replacement part or a newer model), or from a competitor who might also rely on planned obsolescence.” Thank you, Wikipedia. 

In essence, it’s the idea that rather than create repairable, long-lasting durable machines and devices, manufacturers create products that will eventually fail so that you will have to keep on purchasing and upgrading until one day, YOUR programming fails and ceases to exist. I’m hoping for a coffin with wi-fi, but I’m not getting my hopes up.

Since my computer is reaching that point of worrying me, I have become proactive and begun ushering my files off to a safer place, better known as my G-Drive. And no, that’s not the same as a G-string.

The G-drive is a magical place where you can discover and re-discover yourself. It’s like opening a box of reports you wrote in high school. A great self-centered, ego-boosting learning opportunity.

Looking through my G-drive, I found oodles of pictures that I had forgotten about. Places I forgot I went, people I forgot I was friends with, or made out with, and enough pictures of me sleeping in various places to fill a small art museum. What can I say? A girl needs her beauty sleep.

I thought about why on earth I have hung onto these photos, and documents for so long. Some of them seemingly so silly. I can’t seem to get rid of them, and I can’t seem to escape the desire to print out every journal entry I’ve ever logged and pour over it. I want to hear the words of the past Emily and see her thoughts. How have I changed? What silly things did I write about then? Did I have a blog about my likeness to a clumsy cartoon character?

People are always telling us not to dwell on the past. Not to live in the past, but I think, actually, that the past may hold some valuable answers for some of us. Answers about thought patterns that we may have carried throughout our lives, emotions that we seek to trace to their origin. There is a reason history books exist and it’s so that we can learn from the mistakes of those who came before us, so we can see an accurate depiction of what was, rather than just the blurry memory in our brains retelling stories. I found the entire archeological self-study to be fascinating and much needed on a Tuesday night spent alone.

And I dug up little gems like these….

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Sorry, Mom.

When I grow up, I Wanna Be a DINK (Dual-Income-No-Kids)

To start this entry off, I first feel I need to offer the sincerest apology to my mother. For whatever trauma I put her through in my childhood, and for however much that terrorizing of her life continues on in my adult years. Secondly, I need to apologize to her because as far as I am concerned, she is not going to be a grandmother.

When I tell people I am not having children, they feel it is their duty to convince me that my opinion is wrong, an work to persuade me otherwise. I’ve decided to stop sharing my disdain for children, and instead just know and understand the truth for myself; standing firm so as not be swayed by any cute dimples, or tiny toes, baby soft skin, or the smell of freshly bathed babies.

Des ShouldersI’ve done my time with kids, from having three younger brothers of my own, to working in a day care center, nannying, to babysitting his, hers, ours, theirs, as often as he, she, and we saw fit. I even volunteered to do stuff with kids! Camp counselor, big day-long events involving hordes of screaming children, and just plain old charity babysitting. Because of this, I feel like the person who has not birthed just one or two, but hundreds of tiny tots and to be honest, I don’t think I have the capacity in me for any more.

This weekend, we watched my boyfriend’s adorable five-year old nephew. He is a really wonderful, polite, engaged, and well-behaved youngster, but despite that, I felt completely worn out by the end of the weekend. Typically, I like my weekends to focus on rest, rejuvenation, and relaxation after a stressful and very out-of-whack work schedule that I must maintain throughout the week. We did everything from go to the beach, took him to see the turtles at the garden supply store, attempted long mountain excursions, and indulged his every whim for M & M’s, gum, pizza, and any movie watching that he requested. I think he watched the same episode of Spy Kids 5 times. I found myself not wanting to say “No” to what he wanted, but at the same time, the more you say yes, the more drained you get! Is all this true for ACTUAL parents too? Or is it different when they’re your own?

Boys have always been a challenge for me, I want to understand them, but the superhero, knife, sword, gun thing is just so hard for me to engage my brain in. I need to educate myself more on these topics for next time, so that we can have a really deep and meaningful conversation about THOR and his distant, unsavory relative, Godzilla. Des M and M's

Kids have a love hate relationship with food it seems. They are hungry when they are hungry and will not let up letting you know that, until the tormenting monster within their stomachs has been sufficiently fed. It also seems like they also do not like any of the choices that you give them. I can’t imagine why a kid wouldn’t like side salads, plain, unflavored oatmeal, and bland toast, but our loaner miniature man was not interested in eating any of the things we usually eat. I suppose it’s because we eat to maintain our top-notch physiques, all the while feeding our emotional selves and kid’s eat because….well….they need a break from sword fighting. This particular superhero of a child rarely took a break from eating (toast, oatmeal, 2 bags of popcorn, a cookie…all before noon), yet still managed to maintain a rapid caloric burn and I found myself jealous of his toned muscles, fast metabolism, and exercise endurance. Unfortunately, our cabinets are empty now and it doesn’t look they’re going to replenished until my tax return of next year.

I thought I was emotional, dramatic, and overly needing of attention until I realize that a child takes those notions to the next level. I think it is their job to inform you of, and narrate each moment, complete with a question and answer period mostly involving the question, “Why?”. The chair is too hot, your breath smells, I don’t like this, are we there yet, where are we going, I want this, and that, and it’s hot, I’m thirsty, my legs are tired, you’re a doo doo head. If I took everything they said personally, I would not be feeling so great about myself and probably would never amount to the person I see myself as in my head as my every flaw is magnified by their every need that I am not immediately attending to. I’ll admit, my need to feel accepted by children is a rather obsessive one, and that is something I have to work on, and work out in my own time.

Although I have friends with kids who have rockin’ bods, I have a feeling I would not bounce back so easily and baby weight would turn into my developing into a behemoth. I think the stress of having a child would send me on a chip-eating, ice cream-scarfing frenzy that I would never be able to resurface from. Not to mention the number of cocktail hours would skyrocket as I sought to manage and grapple with my terrible parenting. Wanting to maintain my girlish figure (which is fading on it’s own regardless of being sans-child) is a large part of my reason for not having children. I also do not think there is anyway I could mentally, physically or emotionally handle the giant balloon that my stomach would grow into and the accompanying aches, pains, and downward spirals. I cry when I get stung by a bee and when I have gas, I don’t think labor is really for folks of such a feeble constitution.

Perhaps the overarching reason I have no desire to have kids is because I am a bit selfish, and just a bit too exhausted by own life. I’m becoming even more so in my old age. I’m just now learning to savor moments to myself, and to really develop a true, loving, honest, and committed relationship to someone. I have all of these personal challenges I want to strive for, and I think that for me, having a kid would just hold me back from the things I want most out of life. I want to learn more about how to feel child-like MYSELF and smile more, laugh more, enjoy more, rather than add to my wrinkle repertoire by overly concerning myself with every detail of a tiny beings life. I know the kind of person I am, and I would never want to instill my OCD attributes on someone else. I feel parenting is a huge responsibility, and while I know so many people that are good at it, I know so many people that are not so wonderful at it and their kids turn out crappy. I would never be able to live with myself if my child hated me, or resented me for the way I had raised them, or developed into some menace to society, who then resented me for the way I raised them. It’s so liberating to be able to live in a world in which children are actually something you can decide upon rather than just extra farm hands.

I guess, when it boils down to it, I want to be the one to say “YES” to everything kids want, and to give them love, without having to bear the actual little thing into this world. I’ll leave the task of making my mother a grandmother to my three loyal brothers, and I will stick to being “Auntie Em.”

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