Missing Lucy and other random thoughts

Okay, Okay. So I know I already posted today, but I'm completely bored and I'll do anything to get out of doing my math homework. Bleh. So, I'm in this Child Care class at school where they let the students run a daycare. It's totally fun. I know you're supposed to love all children equally and not play favorites, but I had a few. their names are Noelle, Brigden, Grant, and Lucy. They are so stinking cute and adorable and hilarious and everything a kid should be. Well, last week I was in Child Care when I found out that Lucy was going to be moving THE NEXT DAY to HAWAII! I was so devastated! Lucy was super shy and barely ever spoke and was way nice to all the other kids, but the thing I loved most about her was that her mom let her pick out her own clothes, so she would come to school wearing a pink, sequined top, flowered leggings, a purple tutu, Disney princess snow boots, and a plaid bow in her hair. Honestly, that's how she dressed like every day. It was adorable!!! So today, I woke up and started getting ready and I was so tempted to put on a Lucy outfit, but I'm pretty sure you have to have curly hair, adorable dimples, and be four years old to pull off that look.
Speaking of Child Care, I'm thinking of applying for a job there, to like work after school and during lunch and stuff. Shasha (my sister) is also going to apply at a daycare, so we're going to go get CPR certified this weekend. That should be pretty exciting. I'll let you know how it turns out. Also, I think I want to get a food handler's permit. Honestly, I love Child Care so much, I'm thinking of running a daycare as a career when I'm older. Well, it's past 10pm, so it's about an hour past my bedtime (totally an early bird, definitely not a night owl.) TTFN!

- Emily D

Autobiography in Five Short Chapters

I

I'm reading a magazine.

It advertises this shirt.

I burt the shirt.

It's cute. I love it. I wear it everyday.

I'm sick of it.

I throw it away.

II

I'm reading the same magazine.

It advertises those pants.

They're cute. I love them. I wear them everyday.

They don't fit too well.

I throw them away.

III

I read the same magazine.

It advertises that scarf.

It's cute. I love it. I wear it everyday.

Everyone else wears the same scarf.

I give it away.

IV

I'm reading the same magazine again.

It advertises those shoes.

They're cute. I love them. I wear them everyday.

They hurt my feet.

I put them in the back of my closet.

V

I read the same magazine.

It advertises this skirt.

I wear shorts instead.

Anti-Valentine

A blank piece of paper.
Daunting, intimidating.
So perfect, so pristine,
but incomplete in the artist's
eyes.

The inviting starkness of white.
The itch for the smoothness of paper.
But the need to preserve the unblemished clean.

Pencils scratch against paper,
straining to glide,
but still they scratch.
The luscious anticipation is gone.

Erasers screech across the
blemish.
Claim the paper to be white once more.
But traces of lead remain,
faint, but there.

What can the artist do?
Nothing but crumple up the
once-clean paper
and try again.
But, no matter how beautiful
other sketches may seem,
the artist can not forget
the undrawn masterpiece.

The artist can fetch the crumples paper,
smooth it out,
try again,

But remnants of the first draft
are still there
and now
the once-white paper
is wrinkled, maybe ripped.

And no amount of
erasing or smoothing
can fix that.

So that's my anti-valentine. Sorry it's up so late! Next time I'll try to get it on faster.

xoxo
Emily

Just talking to a sidewalk crack.

So, basically I have no idea what to do with a blog. What am I supposed to write? I guess I'll just write about my Creative Writing assignment. I had to spend fifteen minutes with a sidewalk crack. For the first ten minutes, I was bored stiff, then I had a little conversation with the crack. It went something like this:

Emily: Hello there little sidewalk crack.
Sidewalk crack: . . . .
Emily: I'm doing great. Thanks for asking.
Sidewalk crack: . . . . .
Emily: I'm hungry. I wish I had a peach right now. Do sidewalk cracks like peaches? Do they even get hungry?
Sidewalk crack: . . . .
Emily: You're not very talkative, are you?
Sidewalk crack: . . . .
Emily: It's okay. Being shy isn't a sin.
Sidewalk crack: . . .

It kind of continued on like that for the next five minutes. Fun, right?
Well, I talk to sidewalks. That's just one of the many enigmas that make up my life. Let me know if you can puzzle it out.

-Em