900th post :: just a chatty coffee blogger date

900th post :: just a chatty coffee blogger date

March 26, 2013

Today is my 900th post. Four and a half years, 900 posts. That's a lot of typing, especially for someone who blogged at a minimum for so long. I really feel like I've just gotten into this in the past two years, and have learned so much about editing, html, social media, and networking because of it. After 900 posts, let's just have a little coffee date, or a blate (blogger date) as I've seen a bunch of bloggers jokingly call it. I'll share my hopes and dreams, and you can share yours. 

Let me preface this with this...after hearing what Lisa Leonard spoke on at Blissdom, I want to blog what I feel and not appologize for it. If I can say what I feel, then what is the point of this whole online journal of mine. 

Lately I've hit that point where more IRL people read my URL. It's weird to say the least. For years I've blogged openly, but never really told people I knew that I was blogging. People look at it weird. Yes, I admit, it is weird to have tons of friends that you constatly talk to over Twitter and IG but have met very few in person. But it's a good writing release, I can get things off my chest and at the same time see that others have gone through, or are going through what I'm dealing with. In the most psych major way possible, it's like therapy to me. 

On the same side of that, sometimes I think bloggers get me more than some IRL people. Sometimes it seems that bloggers know that everything shared isn't everything. There is more to me, more to my views, more to the relationship with my husband. Just because they aren't discussed on a daily basis doesn't mean they aren't a part of me. I don't share a lot of personal stuff every week, I do share...but not every single week. 

For instance, the pending move/not move is weighing on me massively. This is the first year I've taught that I didn't move. I absolutely loved walking into a classroom I'd been in, a teaching environment I was familiar with, and lesson plans I had already written. It was a sense of ease that I hadn't experience before. Now with the potential move I could be anywhere teaching anything. I'm honestly fine either way, on a non-work level I would like the excitement of a different city. Especially a few of the ones we are looking into. Where we are is just too small town with not much to offer, but if we stay I'm fine with that too. I just know that where we are now is a "the world is my oyster" situation, so to not dream and think about living elsewhere seems kind of dull. When we walked into this situation 2 years ago I vividly recall standing in the kitchen with Jeremy and him placing his whole graduate school decision on me and saying that if I didn't think I was up to it we wouldn't do it. I agreed, I know just how smart and determined he is and I didn't want to take a chance from him. At the same time, I wanted excitement, and no matter how miserable getting settled somewhere else is, it's new and exciting to some extent. 

I really didn't think I'd be where I am now. I really saw late 20's as more of a settled down with kids thing. Jeremy always tells me I'm much more nostalgic than he is about the whole 5 year plan idea. I seriously had a 5 year plan though. Parts of where we are now were present in that plan, others not so much. I'm with him though, and that is the roller coaster ride I signed up for. The man saw me through grad school and now I'll support him through as well. 

Honestly though, having a husband a year out of thirty is weird at times. Not for me necessarily, but the way people view him is weird to me. I see a man who came a long way and conquered a lot to get where he is, yes he is almost 30 and finishing school, but that is because he had zero support from anyone and had to do it alone. I laugh when people try to tell me things about a man I know so well. I laugh, because it is funny to me that other people think that things that are so normal for us are something to make a deal out of.

I don't know, it's just weird how people treat us like children...because we don't have any. When we've focused on our education and being settled before adding extras in, on purpose. Nothing with Jeremy surprises me, but that doesn't mean I'm not proud of him. I just don't gloat about it. The only person I care to know how I feel about Jeremy is Jeremy. The only people who actually would understand why I would be proud of him would be me, and maybe a few others who know what he came from. Guess the problem here is that I am not impressed with common occurrences because, well, I wouldn't expect any less of the man. I know what he is capable of, and his determination makes me look like the laziest human on earth. 

So I guess what I'm saying here is that you don't hear me talk about him much, because I talk about him to him. I don't feel the need to yell it to the world, because I've whispered it to him. 

Maybe it's just the situation we live in now. Where we live is vastly different from where we lived and grew up before. The things people judge you on are different, what they care about is so different. At least through it all I have a hubby who is on my side, and knows I am on his side as well. 

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In the same way that I think people's view of Jeremy is so different from who I know, I see the same thing with me. I think what caused this is basically the fact that people where we are now only know the past 2 years of us, unlike our hometowns who look at either of us and see the real thing. 

People here see me as brass and outspoken. Most see it as negative. They don't see what made me who I am, or just how toned down I've become. Granted I will speak my mind, I was raised to do so, but at the same time the Emily you get now isn't nearly as much as the Emily you would have seen at 20. I was a tough cookie at 20, heck I spent that year trying to hold my own and hold onto what I thought was mine. Over the years I've mellowed out a lot, a lot. I still have a lot of mellowing to do...but you can't expect perfection overnight. I assume that by the time I'm dead I will have worked out the last few kinks. 

Honestly, sometimes I feel like giving people a taste of colleg Emily, just so they know what they're dealing with ha! I'm a work in progress, everyone else is too. Being home where people actually know me though, that has led to a nice feeling of normal that I haven't had in awhile. 

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On the other hand I think I've devised a way to go to Blissdom next year. I want to focus on what I love doing and do my best to ignore the negative. I want to grow my little blog, and grow myself as a writer. I'd like to guest post more, tweet more, and take more pictures of food. 

If you're still reading and you follow my blog through Reader, Bloglovin, Twitter, FB, or IG I really honestly thank you. If you read be sure to leave a comment letting know who you are, I'd love to visit your blog, or follow you on social media some how. It is so fun to connect with others, so let me know who you are:) 

On the other hand, are there any topics you'd like to see me blog about? Or questoins you have? 

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Please Mister Postman

Please Mister Postman

February 10, 2013

We've lived on this little college infested street for nearly two years and I think, like everywhere else I've lived, that I've learned a few lessons. I've lived in an apartment, a town house, and a rent house aside from the apartment we live in now. I'm not even counting the dorms and what torment that brought on. My first semester of college Lemert (the worst dorm on earth) had a centipede infestation. Glorious! 

This particular month and a half in college land has really got me thinking about the next place we will live. I may, or may not spend time in red shoes tapping my heels together daily in hopes of putting our Monroe house somewhere else. 

Apartment living as a single girl is totally different than as a married chick. Granted my personality hasn't changed at all, I did bang a groom on our ceiling one when the football players who lived upstairs were doing something that sounded a lot like flag football in their living room. The worst I had in my last college infested apartment experience is that in 1 year, from October to October, my car was hit and run no less than 5 times. You think I'm kidding, I know. Seriously, my front bumper was hit 5 stinking time. 

Lessoned learned: College kids can't drive. 

Then there was the time when my roommate moved out and the apartment manager had a opening for a one bedroom loft townhouse closer to campus. There were mostly married couples there so it was extremely peaceful. My biggest worry was that Ellie would get out and run towards the road, we didn't have a real gate...it just looked like one. It was a very peaceful four years, except for that time it was pouring rain and I forgot to lock my car. I managed to leave my entire backpack, brand new engraved iPod, and my purse in the car that night. When I got up I was convinced my boyfriend had surprised me by cleaning my car. It wasn't until I got to campus that I realized my backpack and purse were missing that I knew someone had robbed me blind. They even took the air fresheners out of my air vents. Cleanest my car had ever been. 

Lesson learned: People are constantly waiting to see if the people living in the "nice" townhouses will make a profitable mistake. 

I still think some kid is running around with a purple Aldo bag and a pink backpack. 

Then I got married and we found a house to rent in a nice quiet neighborhood. We were close to campus, close to work, and the setup was ideal for small dog owners. I could have lived there forever, with a few updates and renovations. The carpet and wallpaper was scary. We were the youngest people in this neighborhood and everyone in several houses in any direction were retired. For the first time ever, we were the problem. It only took two times from ole Bob next door having a fit about the girls to get bark collars and begin training for barking. Funny thing is that the neighbor to the right of us hated the dogs, the one on the left loved them. Oh retired neighbors, how I love you. 

Then Jeremy moved and I was left living with two of his guy friends until I graduated and moved to Thibodaux. Not ideal, let me tell you. We all got on each other's nerves like nothing else. Ladies, if you ever you are taking your husband for granted, just go live with some single guys for a hot minute. I'm not a roommate person at all. It was painful for all parties involved (haha). 

Lesson learned: bark collars are needed, and even the best living arrangements can go south.

Then we moved to south Louisiana. I didn't look around for an apartment much after we were told we wouldn't have to pay a dog fee here. I jumped on like I had found the end of the rainbow, most apartments I had talked to wanted upwards of $1000 for pet fees since we had two pups. 

Then our neighbors, whom I loved more than any other neighbor I've had, made the biggest apartment dwelling mistake one can make. They set us on fire. We were literally minutes from losing everything we had when the firemen showed up. Our attic took a huge beating and we didn't have electricity for quite some time in our bedroom and the hallway. We still don't have electricity in the hallway. Good thing though it that the dogs survived the terrible smoke and we escaped with easy to handle smoke damage. It took very little effort to clean the smell out. We had dodged a close one. 

That incident turned me into what our friends on this street joking refer to as "the fire marshall." I can't stand the sight of fire pits, and I don't mind telling off every 20 something on our street because of it. Our new neighbors actually got one and set it aflame in the same spot the one was the caught us on fire. I marched outside in my polka dot rain boots and demanded they put it out. At first they disagreed, but once I assured them life would be much easier if they never lit it again...and gave a full run down of the damage while pointing out all the new wood and siding...they ended up complying while nodding and repeatedly saying "yes mam." 

It doesn't take much for the teacher voice to crawl back out. 

Now many of you are aware that it is Mardi Gras, as we speak. This means two things are happening on our little street. 

1) There has been a mass exodous to New Orleans for the weekend. 

And...

2) Those who stayed are less than sober. 

Which leads me to that picture above...some drunk kid took out the mail boxes. I was cracking up with I saw it and ran in to grab the camera. This just further proves my point to Jeremy that we need to move and get a house to rent. While I was sitting outside on the pavement trying to get a good shot I found a possible culprit. The guy driving that black truck seemed a little taken back that I was photographing the mailbox conundrum. He started to back out, then stopped, came forward, then backed out super quick and high tailed it off the street. Considering how I police the ridiculously immature kids that live around us, and under the same land lord, he probably thought I was going to rat them out. 

But I'm not, while I think they are incredibly stupid, I'm just going to sit outside next to my slowly dying rosemary bush (that's another story) and wait on the fun to unravel. Nothing makes our little ( literally) land lord more irritated than property damage. 

There are two lessons to learn from this:

1) Don't drink and park, I'd hate to see how they were driving at that point.

2) No one seems to be getting their deposit back this year...except the few of us who havent driven into anything or burned it down. 

How do you like where you live? 

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Calecas, Cialis, However you say it.

Calecas, Cialis, However you say it.

January 16, 2011

So Saturday we drove down south separately. After having not driven more than a mile, literally, in months, and having never driven in Baton Rouge...this trip was something else. I hate driving with a capital H. After we got to the red stick we got separated even farther apart and because of conflicting gps systems we took different exits. That did not make me happy one bit. 

I finally wound up here.

Which was only the beginning of my love/hate feelings for this whole deal. 

J and I quickly found each other on campus and we ran off to begin the long check-in process. Upon first glance you would think all the dorms are just full of sunshine and daisies, but in fact they are not. As we quickly learned. I kept thinking "wow this place is so nice" until we drove up to Jeremy's "dorm" and I told him "Are you sure this is it? It's a police station." 

Why yes it was it. A ghetto dorm attached to a police station. At least we had paid for a single room so he could escape the super ghetto in his own little semi ghetto space. After we walked in and were attempting to figure out where to go a guy walked in behind up and promptly attempted to kill me with his dorm fridge. He was lucky Jeremy caught it before it shattered on the ground. At least we thought he was lucky J caught it. He immediately started fussing at Jer not to touch his fridge. Okay. First crazy down. Check.

This ghetto dorm is called Calecas by the way pronounced Ka-leak-us. I decided to continually call it Cialis. There was one called Babbington. I thought it would have been fitting if Babbs would have lived in Babbington.

Next we walked into the common room to completely check in. If you read Twitter you know what the common room smelled like. My jacket still smells like old ratty crawfish if you want a sniff. Gross. We completed out check-in, or so we thought, and ran off to his new abode. 

But for some odd reason there was junk already in the room. Yes, the single room we paid for. Meaning he lives alone. So off we went to the stinky common room so my jacket could further soak up the sent like a box of baking soda. While begging for a room change Crazy numbers 2 & 3 made their grand entrance. 

Crazy #2 came in offering everyone navel oranges. She was an odd one for sure. The kind of odd I tried to escape in my dorm days years ago. After we turned down her offer she asked for a pen "to open her orange". Hmm. I didn't know Bic made orange peelers.

Thus brings us to Crazy #3. #3 made her grand entrance just as I had finished beggin' mercy on our sad-married-not-your-common-dorm-dweller-selves and demanded her room be changed. Or in her own words "Can you get rid of her then?" The RA then proceeded to tell us how she was sure J would get a room because once people see this horrid place they refuse to live here. Oh and we totally understood. 

You see, on our way back to the office Jeremy made it very clear he was feeling sorry for me at first because he was going to experience all this new, cool stuff and I was stuck in old North LA teaching until graduation. But that changed once he saw his room. He said he wanted to find the dean and tell them to take me, we had the same GRE score and were both Psych. major...so it was a fair trade. He even contemplated getting his old job back.

All of our determination and drive to get him through this program went out the window when we saw the peeling paint of what was obviously a dorm that had seen its fair share of hurricanes.

We were contemplating getting a hotel and coming home when the minute I called my Mom to cry about the horror they changed his room to a single, twin beds, but a single none the less. Praise the Lord! 

So we packed him into his paint peeled room.

Joked about the crazy people we encountered. Did the traditional dorm kid pilgrimage to Mecca aka WalMart and filled his fridge full of the traditional foods of Ramen, Coke, and Oreos. Finally we drove to Applebee's and used the gift card the Special Ed. Department gave him as a farewell gift and had our last date until who knows when. 

This morning we got up, filled my car with gas and went in search of King Cake. Now, as a lover of south LA King Cake I am here to tell all of you....if your cake taste like a cinnamon bun you do not have a real King Cake. 

I got the strawberry cream cheese filled one. Yum! After that we headed back to the dorm and had a breakfast date of cake, donuts, and coffee.

If you were wondering, we ended up staying in the dorm last night. And yes, we both slept in that twin bed. I woke up at 4am plastered to the wall begging Jeremy to roll over haha. 

When I left I decided to meet my long time friend Brittany at What-a-Burger in Baton Rouge to meet her new little man Cayden and visit with her, her mom, and see little Mr. Caleb. I just wish I would have taken a picture.

Which brings me to now. Searching for positive while I feel like I am missing something majorly.

Which is also way I chose Proverbs 31:25-26 as my 2nd scripture to for SSMT this month. 

²⁵ Strength and honor are her clothing; 

      She shall rejoice in time to come. 

       ²⁶ She opens her mouth with wisdom, 

      And on her tongue is the law of kindness.

If you read Beth Moore's SLI you remember we repeated verse 25 constantly with the NIV translation of "She is clothed in strength and dignity." I loved that verse. But I liked how the NKJV ended it with "She shall rejoice in days to come" instead of "she will laugh at the future" like other versions had. 

As much as I would love to curl in a ball and just act like a baby I cannot. There are things to do on my end of this deal to ensure I can actually move during the summer. I must daily clothe myself with strength and dignity to make it through this is I ever want to rejoice in the time to come. I also have to practice the law of kindness (which a lot of my blog friends will remember from the simulcast we attended in the Fall) big time, there is no need for me to be short with people because I am not 100% happy about the current situation. I have to be kind and speak wisdom. Honestly kind, not see through nice. 

Well that is all for tonight. I am going to now call my man who is 200 miles in the opposite direction. Night.

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