*my favorite pieces of writings I have written over the passed four years.
May 22, 2013
since the start of my summer (which now has been a month), i have wanted to get my body into shape – it’s not that i wanted to become stick thin, i just wanted to look a little toned and healthy – but i have recently discovered that a healthy journey has now turned into somewhat of an obsession. i look in the mirror at least three times a day checking to see if i have made any progress and sometimes (I HATE TO ADMIT IT!) but i count my calories while i am eating, which if anyone has ever done this, in my opinion i think it is a complete waste of time, because c’mon you’re gonna eat that piece of cake anyways.
but, while i looked in the mirror today i couldn’t help but say to myself “emily what the hell are you doing?”
i have taken this healthy journey of mine and turned into something of judgement saying to myself “emily, those curves should probably be gone by now” or “okay, where are my abs that jillian michael promised me?” i used to workout for comfort but now i workout as a competition between myself and my weight. which, counting calories is no way to live in my opinion, so why the hell have i spent the passed month living this way? i enjoy working out – as a matter of fact i love it and i firmly believe that everyone should have some kind of workout regimen no matter their weight and no matter their age. working out and eating fruits is good for you – but it’s also good for you to splurge on sweets and foods that make you happy – but in moderation.
because honestly, i just love food too much to quit is and occasionally i love to have a nice chocolate doughnut at 2am – i mean who the hell ever told me i couldn’t eat the foods that i love every once in awhile? i mean yes, i have curves and i understand that there are some women who don’t have the curves that i do but that doesn’t mean i should love myself any less. everyone is different and everyone’s body handles things differently and have different types of metabolism – but just because you don’t look like a super model doesn’t mean you’re any less of a person.
i mean, i love my doughnuts and my chipotle and my fried chicken way too much.
i don’t know why i have obsessed about this for a month now – life is too short to not enjoy the things that you love – food definitely being included.
March 12, 2013
Like most kids today, when I was in middle school I was the victim of bullying. It wasn’t severe and cliche’ “give me your lunch money or i’ll beat you up.” It was more subtle words that were spoken like “what are those red bumps on your face” and, since I was the tallest one in the class I spent my whole sixth grade year being called giraffe. I used to walk with my head down most days, and sometimes I would cry.
Now at the age of 20, I know better.
My friend’s two year relationship with her boyfriend ended recently; mostly because he had changed and became really shallow. But they remained friends, and there was one point in high school where he and I had been good friends, but that was three years ago. But, during their relationship there had been a night when my friend and I had sent him a snapchat of the two of us. I don’t remember what we looked like, but by the history of my sent snap chats I can assure you I wasn’t taking a serious picture.
But that isn’t an excuse for him to have told my friend he thought I had looked ugly in the snapchat.
“her face… it’s just… eww.”
And now since I am no longer the low confident adolescent girl I was in the sixth grade here is my letter to the nasty immature boy who decided to call me ugly: you are no better than anyone and you have no right to decide who is ugly and who is not. the fact that you are sitting here calling people ugly, I already know that I am better than you anyway. I would rather have a few red bumps on my face than a shallow heart. I know how to love and see the good in people, while you are empty. I am more of a person than you ever will be.
I know that I am not perfect and I know that I am not a model, but I am glad that I am not because that is who I am. I am glad that I can eat doritos and thin mint cookies and I don’t give a rats ass about it. I am glad that I don’t feel the need look perfect every single time I go out and I don’t feel the need to wear short mini skirts to get boys to notice me.
I am proud of who I am. If you think that’s ugly than you need to re-evaluate a few things
March 1, 2013
i know it seems cliche’, and i know several people will disagree but i thoroughly enjoy the movie titanic and I somehow to seem to fall in love with it a little more each time I watch it. I know it has a predictable ending and is depressing but i think sometimes people seem to underestimate just how beautiful of a love story it actually is.
i first watched it from beginning to end when i was in middle school. i never really understood the hype at first and when the ship hit the iceberg i was just ready for the movie to be done. But it’s actually a pretty long movie to say the least. and when rose went back down in the FREEZING cold water to go save Jack, I remember turning to my mom asking,
“why would she go back to save him? she could die why doesn’t she just go to the life boats.”
and then my mom looked at me and said simply, “emily people do extraordinary things for the people that they love.”
Today as I was eating my lunch and saw that titanic was on I turned on the channel. It was at the part when Jack tells Rose to take the lifeboat, and lies to her telling her that he will make it okay, that he and Cal have arrangements to get on another lifeboat. This scene has always been one of my favorites, as I have watched it over the years. I am no longer the niave titanic movie watcher I was in middle school. In fact, I usually cry at this scene, watching Rose look up at Jack with tears in her eyes. You can literally see her pain. You can feel it, even.
And then she jumps off. And she runs to him and they embrace each other so strongly that you can feel the love between them. Most people would think that this scene, this whole entire movie is a corny romance but I have always wondered what it would feel like to feel that love, feel so strongly about a person that you had to jump off that boat, you had to embrace someone because you simply felt like you couldn’t live without them.
Then, as already predicted Jack passes away, and yes this might seem corny but every time the ending credits roll I am sobbing. I ache for Rose and I ultimately wonder how she even survived without him. At the end she speaks of how she didn’t even have a picture of him, that she got re-married. It just pulls on your heartstrings that she had to say goodbye to the love of her life.
The ending credits are rolling now, and I am sobbing wondering what it feels like to have a love so strongly as the one Jack and Rose had.
And for all those who have had to say goodbye to their own.
January 3, 2013
sixth grade was not a good time for me. i had curly hair, thick bangs, acne and majorly crooked teeth. and, like every other sixth grader i had a major crush on a cute boy. he never liked me back, though. he preferred the tall blonde girl who always wore sparkly pink lip gloss and who could start a conversation in the blink of an eye. I was crushed when I found out I didn’t have a chance. I guess he didn’t like me because I had an obnoxious laugh and I sucked in math class, and I enjoyed spending time with my dog more than anything else.
seventh grade was somewhat better even though my acne got worse. and since we were in the middle of junior high our teachers must’ve decided it was time to talk about the birds and the bees in health class. and, along with the birds and the bees came the talk of puberty. our teacher made it clear what the signs of puberty were, for whatever reason. “some signs include voice changes and acne.” acne. i cringed at the word.
after class, i walked with my head down, trying to hide my red blemishes that covered my chin. i kept it down while opening up my locker at the end of the day. i grabbed my books and put them inside my book bag, but i guess my curly haired classmate didn’t seem to notice my sad look. either that or he didn’t care. he came up beside me and leaned on the lockers. “hey emily!” he yelled. i looked up, frustrated that i couldn’t hide my blemishes anymore. He said, “i know that you started puberty already because you have zits all over your face.” He walked away and my eyes swelled with tears. I felt ugly.
high school was better. my acne was mostly gone thanks to antibiotics and proactiv. I was still the minority, though. I didn’t drink so I was a party pooper. I didn’t sleep around either, so I was a prude. I didn’t have a designer purse or drove a BMW so I was poor. I wasn’t a cheerleader and I didn’t look like a model, so I was considered average. I had spent the four years of my high school career wondering what was wrong with me, or what I should change about myself to get people to like me. Maybe if I wore my hair like this, so and so would like me. Why don’t boys want to date me?
looking back know those thoughts and the people who made me feel that way, are in fact, excuse my french, extremely shitty.
now as a 20 year old i am probably one of the quirkiest people that have ever lived and i’m perfectly content. i think back to the sixth grade and the boy who didn’t like me back. now i think of it as his loss. and to the tall blonde girl with sparkly lip gloss I am glad that I wasn’t her. I would never want to look like a barbie doll. I look back at myself at my locker in the seventh grade, with pimples and all. If I could talk to the seventh grade me I would tell her that having pimples doesn’t lessen your self worth. Having insecurities about yourself and overcoming them helps make you a stronger person.
but mostly I would talk to the high school me and I would shake some sense into her. let people think what they want to think. if they are going to make assumptions about you without even knowing you, then they aren’t worth having in your life anyways. if you don’t want to having a beer, then you don’t have one. you don’t sleep around because you have self respect. and who cares if you don’t have a coach purse I am sure that the one you have is just as good. and who cares if you aren’t stick thin. you’re you and that’s all you can be.
20 years old and i am still figuring out the world, even if i am a few years behind. i am completely happy with who i am as a person. i wish what i know now, i could’ve known in high school. I probably would’ve laughed more. I probably would’ve done things for my own benefit instead of for other people – of whom i didn’t even like to begin with. truth is, people are always going to talk about you. you just need to stay true to yourself. in the end your happiness is all that matters. just remember to always love yourself and silence everyone else’s nasty words.
February 15, 2009
I was sitting in a worn down table booth, waiters and waitresses were bustling in and out of the back kitchen door. Their hands will filled with glasses filled with Coke, and delicious meals. I was looking around and saw pictures of the ocean, and portraits of red lobsters on the walls. My parents were sitting across from me. It was the first time we had had seafood together since our last vacation to Florida, nine years ago, it was also the first time I had eaten at Red Lobster since I was 11. I had been with my Grandmother.
I was looking through the menu: Carribbean lobster? no. I didn’t want that. Scallops? no, I didn’t really want that either. I settled for chicken tenders and french fries with a salad on the side. I wasn’t really that hungry.
After I ordered, and the waitress was out of earshot, my Dad leaned over the table and said “Emily you should have gotten the shrimp, or the lobster.”
I looked at him with a sour look on my face. “ew. I’ve never tried lobster before, and I’m not really in the mood for shrimp.”
My parents laughed and said, “You loved it in Florida. That’s all you ate. We thought you might turn out to be a lobster sooner or later, you ate so much of it.”
I hadn’t remembered it until they had mentioned it. And then a thousand memories came flooding back to me. It’s almost as if I had zoned out. I wasn’t in Red lobster anymore. I wasn’t surrounded by the chilly air of Ohio. There was no longer snow flakes drifting down from the sky outside the window.
I was 8. my brother was 13. He was sitting across from me and my Dad was beside him. My mother was to my left, and I looked to my right. I saw a large balcony filled with people. Each person was laughing and looking out at the amazing view. The ocean was just behind them. It looked as if it went on for all eternity. Almost as if, if you went to far into it, it would end. You would be at the edge of the earth, and if you went to far on the edge, you might fall, into somewhere completely unknown. And then the sky was filled with puffy white clouds, not enough clouds that it was cloudy, but just enough to make you realize that in an hour or so, it would be dusk, and the sunset would set in.
I looked back into the restaurant. It wasn’t all that crowded inside, and I already had my meal. I don’t remember what I was eating, but my dad’s plate was filled with red lobster. He was cutting it, and dipping it into butter. He smiled at me. “Do you want some? You should try it. It’s really good.”
I took the small peice of fish and sunk my teeth into it. It was delicious.
And then the scene changed. I was still 8. My brother was still 13. It was dark, and my feet were dirty and were filled with wet sand. I was holding my mother’s hand, and my Dad and brother were walking in front of us. I could hear the waves crashing onto the shore. I remember how I wanted to sit, and just listen. Listen to the calming waves, and maybe even fall asleep. And then I looked over my shoulder, and saw the bright light circling. It was a lighthouse. It was colored with white and black swirling stripes. No body else was walking on the beach, except two people sitting on a nearby bench. I looked their way.
My mom squeezed my hand as she said “Don’t look over there.”
I looked up at her in complete confusion. “Why not?”
Then my brother screamed, “EW! THEY’RE MAKING OUT!”
I never fully understood what making out meant until I was much older.
Then a small object startled me as it scurried past my toes. It was a crab. I wanted to chase after it, but my mother wouldn’t allow it.
The scene changed once more, and I was in a car I didn’t recognize. I was still in Florida, and I was in the backseat with my brother. We were listening to the radio. A song I didn’t regonize was on. The woman had a beautiful voice and it rang inside my head “I feel so alive. This is all I wanna feel tonight.” And then I looked outside the car window. We were on a bridge, and the ocean was swaying beneath us. I remember hearing that song every time we drove over that bridge.
The scene changed for one final time and I was back in red lobster. Except now I was 11. I was in the same red lobster I had been with my parents except I was sitting in a different booth. My grandmother sat across from me. She had looked different then the last time I had seen her. The last time I had seen her, she looked tired and she didn’t seem happy. She was so very tired, and she never wore her usual make up, and she never wore her sweet perfume any longer.
Except now in this memory, her black hair was combed and hair sprayed. She was wearing her favorite orange blouse with jeans. She had her makeup on, and her usual eye liner she wore to bring out her chocolate brown eyes. She was wearing her favorite rose necklace and her bright red lipstick. I remember it took her forever to find what shade of lipstick she wanted to wear. And then I took a deep breath as I was coloring on the Kid’s menu. I smelled her sweet perfume. She was my grandmother. The grandmother I missed so much.
And then I was faced back to reality. I was in Ohio. To my right, I saw no people outside, no bright sky, and most importantly, no ocean. There was no crab crawling at my feet, no light house behind me, and there was no one making out nearby. I had no kid’s menu in front of me, and my beloved grandmother was not in front of me…