Em-powered

I tell people that Thursdays are my favorite day of the week. This is true because of Fridays like tonight, where I am left without plans and choose to spend my evening watching a friend tie flies and psychoanalyzing the hoarders on Discovery channel. My reason for loving Thursdays is as follows: I can anticipate the weekend's greatness without the disappointment that none of my lofty plans will come to pass. Where I envisioned corn mazes and an official True Aggie moment, I got "Anne of Green Gables" and an 11:00 curfew. I hope this doesn't sound pessimistic, because I truly relish my weekends, even amidst their lack of excitement.

So tonight, I blog-stalked. My usual favorite left me with tears in my eyes, and I'm here with her resolution in mind. I want my soul to speak the beauty that it knows, something my clumsy frame and awkward sociality do not accurately portray. I'm a beautiful woman, with so much potential and an aching desire to tell the world how great I think it is.

Life fascinates me. There are many moments when I catch myself in a sort of out-of-body view of the world. Since I spend my days working with some children who are unable to control their speech, movements, or both, I am constantly amazed by my ability to think, move, and reason through my days. Human-ness is incredible, and I'm blessed to be able to appreciate both the world and my part in it.

That being said, there are times when I don't feel right. I get angst-y and restless and irritated by others' imperfections (while, at the same time, being fully aware of my many less-than-perfect traits). Call it hormones or premonition, but I'm in one of those slumps right now, unable to figure out just who is this girl named Emily. I'm feeling a bit lost, and I think a list might help re-establish who I really am.

I love to learn. There is nothing better than cracking open a new book or delving into a subject about which I was previously ignorant.

I am a domestic diva at heart. I'm set on creating a picture-perfect home, complete with my homemade delicacies, hand-knit afghans, and floors that shine like the top of the Chrysler Building.

I crave personal time. My love language is definitely quality time, and I am obsessed with measuring and allotting my time for the people whom I love the most. I appreciate one-on-one interactions much more than large group outings, even though I'm a more social person in large groups.

I over-think everything. It's a nasty habit and a constant setback, but I'm very aware of it.

I'm a little bit confused about who I am, but each day I give myself a blank slate with which to create a beautiful story. I am Emily, and I am em-powered by all the things that make me uniquely me.

A Life of Writing

I shouldn't be doing this. There is a huge stack of files sitting next to me, and I should be thumbing through them instead of purging my mind of its many random observations. I can't focus on codes at a time like this, so in this moment I'm choosing to write.

I realized yesterday just how in sync my life is with those grandiose plans I made for myself. I've been given remarkable opportunities to serve, and I relish the ways my mind has expanded to see the need around me, equal to or even greater than the needs addressed by all those NPOs and "Give-a-year" foundations. I've found diversity in a place I originally thought was full of white privilege. I help students realize their potential, and in doing so, I've realized my own. Each day I find something or someone new to love, from crimson burning bushes to the lopsided crown of a birthday boy. I inhale the day with a deeper awareness of my own humanity, of the pulse in my chest and the incessant string of thoughts in my mind. Like a sponge, I absorb the world and secrete my own flavour of Emily-ness.

This. My writing. This is why it all makes sense.

The Dawn Knows No Reprieve

I'm a girl of the night. I love sunsets and windows that reflect the last rays of glorious orange sunlight. I always feel an ache when I notice the shortening of summer days, but I relish the emergent early darkness with a different kind of love. Tonight as I left a class up on campus, I looked out across beautiful Cache Valley and stared at the brilliant hues of twilight. Something stirred inside me, and a smile lit up my face amidst the darkening skyline. Combined with the crisp fall air, I'm returning to that all-too-familiar wonderland where bustling city streets sweep me along and fabulous green outerwear colors my life. I recognize that none of it is real, but it gives me a smile, nonetheless. Even if I'm not in a fantastic big city, I'm able to capture those moments between campus and the parking garage as something grander than the life of a simpleton. I am definitely not simple.

As I give in to the persuasion of my comfortable bed (and as the after-effects of too much Dr. Pepper wear off), I'm taken away from the night that I love. Don't worry, the soft glow in my window just means that I'm wringing out every last ounce of goodness from my supersaturated day. I love life.

An Itty Bitty Pity Party

Allow me to complain for just one post.

Most of the time I'm fairly forthcoming about my imperfections. I'll be the first to admit all of my major (and minor) flaws to a crowd, and I'm pretty quick to laugh at all of my quirks. I don't even have a most embarrassing moment, because I'm both easily embarrassed and easily assuaged from those feelings. I've pretty much learned to roll with life's punches, but that doesn't mean that there aren't things I'd like to change about my circumstances.

I'd like to get asked on dates.

I don't think any of my guy friends know just how flattering it would be for them to take me out, even once. I can spend hours with the opposite sex without them ever realizing that I'm interested in them, let alone that they could initiate some sort of reciprocal friendship (or the potential for a relationship...) without me demanding an engagement ring or some sort of long-term commitment.

When I see all of my other girlfriends getting asked on multiple dates by multiple guys, I often wonder where I'm lacking in the whole flirting/being attractive department. I am constantly trying to be the best version of myself that I can be, but that version doesn't include someone with a high-pitched phony laugh or a trendy hairstyle/wardrobe. The real Emily only knows how to love and care for people like they're already the most important people in the world. I don't know how to impress them to think the same about me, though. I don't mean to put myself on a pedestal, but I often wonder if my maternal caring- and nurturing-side is scaring off the boys from wanting to date me. After all, who wants to date their mom?

I don't think I'll really ever know the answer to these questions. Please don't think for a moment that I'm not happy with my life, though. I have the most incredibly caring and kind guy friends that a girl could ask for. Now, if only I could get a date, I'd be set.