World, Emily. Emily, World.

one fourth of the Chapman crew was at Jeanne's tonight. It was fantastic. I'm glad I am who I am now and that they all still like me. Since I am all kinds of different. No longer the silly in-need-of-affection scenester. The new live-for-today, comfotable-in-my-own-skin me is who I love. Hello world, I am Emily.

a wham of a sham

I am one of those kids whose Sidekick's are attached to their hands at all times. One who can be having a conversation on AIM, mass-texting directions to a party, and sending an email to her boss saying she's "sick" and can't make it the next day, all while also updating her Twitter account with the latest nonsense on her mind. I also am one of many Sidekick owners who feel completely lost without it. I call it "Sidekick fever" and it is not pretty. All that being said, I dropped mine in the toilet on Saturday night. And before you ask (or think, rather) "had you flushed?!"-- no. I had not flushed. And yes, I stuck both hands in a piss and toilet water cocktail to fetch my link to the very big, outside world. I tore that thing apart (while cursing everything under the sun) like Paris Hilton's dignity. After drying out for two days it still wouldn't turn on. Piece of shit. This morning, seeing my obvious symptoms of Sidekick fever, my mother told me that she had just donated a purple sidekick to her TIP program (cool program, look it up: http://www.tipsandiego.org/ ) and could call to see if it had already been turned in. I drove to Carlsbad and practically took down the door to the police station that the TIP office is in. Kathy, the lady at the desk, handed me the phone with a smile and I thanked her about a million times. So many times that I actually didn't even look at the phone until I got into my dad's truck. It was not a Sidekick, but a brand spankin' new T-mobile G1. A phone that sells for $399.99. And I got it for free. Free free free freefreefreeeeee. So yeah- goodbye Sidekick, hello G1.

On a side note, my father and I washed and waxed my car to an almost beautiful shine today. Everything but the roof is done. We'll finish it next weekend. And the ShamWow is Bologna.

bubble talk

I recently moved back in with my parents. Truth be told, that sentence was painful to write even after having been here for close to five months. I find it funny that while living in Orange County, more specifically the city of Orange, I thought I wanted to be elsewhere. it turns out all I want is to be back there. Not for the people necessarily, (although they're great) but I like the atmosphere.

Quick recap goes like this: grew up in Oceanside- moved to Orange for college- into the dorms I go, Hello Henley!- I hate my roommates, but not as much as they hate me... Move to my Aunt Molly's condo in Orange- found new roomies, back to the dorms- decided Chapman wasn't for me, left and moved back in with Molly- Move in with Boy and Gramma in Tustin- Boy and I break up, move in with BFF Alexis in Orange-BFF and I break up, move back in with Boy and Gramma- Gramma sells house, move into an apt with strangers in Huntington Beach- move back home to Oceanside to pay off student loans while I still can. That's pretty quick considering all the mumbo jumbo that went on during each one of those stays at each one of those places. Safe to say, I'm an EXPERT mover.

So here I am in Oceanside and it's not too bad. My mommy makes me yummy veggie meals I can eat. My daddy fixes my car when it needs fixin'. My brother wants me to go to bars with him constantly. Things here are great. But The Bubble is staring at me from the other side of Camp Pendleton. Just staring. It knows It doesn't have to say a word. Just the look on It's metaphorical face says "Emily what the hell are you doing over there?" and while I keep asking myself the very same question, I thought I'd start blogging to keep my head clear. I need more room in there for memorizing phone numbers I see on 'For Rent' signs anyway.