Weight

Weight Weight Weight Weight. How much? How much do you weigh? How much do I weight? Do I weight less than you? Who weighs more? Weight. 15. 15. Freshman 15. Did you gain it? Did it happen? How would you lose it? Before you get to college you start reading in Seventeen magazine at the age of 15 that there is a thing called the Freshman 15. The 15 pounds some people gain at college and how you can lose it. Thousands of pills to pop, drinks to drink, powders to mix. Patches to stick to your tummy, fabric belts to lose a little tummy fat. What happened to eating right? What happened to exercise? What the hell happened to stop looking at a number on a scale and start looking in the mirror? Who cares how much you weigh as long as you are healthy, fit and confident with how you look? A few weeks ago I went to the gym and saw a plus sized girl running on the treadmill, not only did I think 'good for you!' I also was embarrassed because she could run for a longer time than me. So step away from the scale, the BMI, the diet pills. Unwrap your tummy belt, throw away the powder, rip off your patch and stop obsessing. Go for a walk. You will feel better if you eat right, and exercise. Even if its a 30 minute walk a day you will feel better. Because it isn't about a number. It's about how you feel. And if you feel good than you are worth a million bucks, who cares what other people think or what society says? Do what you need to do to feel good.

Election Day

On Monday November 5, 2012 I met Vice President Joe Biden. I even got a hug from him. Right then and there I realized why I was doing what I had been doing for over two months. Because suddenly I realized I had a purpose, I had a chance to change things and I seized it. I felt like after meeting Biden I could do anything, like I could fly. Go ahead about eight hours and I was crying myself to sleep. What if we lost? What would happen? What if? My confidence was gone. Fast forward about seven hours and I was taking a test (probably failed it) on election day in Communications. One hour later at 10:21 I was phone banking. I was calling people asking a much simpler question than I ever had before: 'have you voted yet?' It was no more 'are you supporting President Obama in the upcoming election?' or 'How about Kaine?' 'Do you need a ride to the polls?' 'The laws in Virginia have changed and you need to bring one form of ID with you, do you know what form you will be bringing?' It was a simple, desperate attempt to get people out there and get people voting. Because despite all my hard work, effort and time on the election it was in the hands of the people it belonged to the whole time. Americans. And there was nothing more I could do. After an hour and a half of phone banking at 12:09 we left to canvass. We knocked on apartments first where it seemed nobody was home (it was low income housing and everyone was working). One woman told me she wasn't voting. But for most people I simply left a sticky note on the door pre-printed telling them to go vote! I talked to a woman who wanted to vote but said she had a phelony charge against her and couldn't. I gave her the voter rights advocate hotline and I assume she called it. I stressed to her how important her vote was, especially in the state of Virginia. The day went on while we picked up packets, drove around, got out in neighborhoods, knocked on doors, left stickies and talked to people who were enthusiastic about voting. We began asking not only the people on our packets but people on the street too. 'Have you voted yet today?' Time ticked by very fast at times and slowly at others. We picked up our last packet for the day and possibly the last one done in Virginia as the sky was turning pink. The time was 5:25. The name of the street was Hunt Ave. a street where the most murders happened in all of Roanoke. We were told never to go there, especially after dark. We just figured we wouldn't tell anyone where we went. People on that street were scared to come out of their houses so we had to talk through the door, yelling 'Have you voted yet?' But still everyone was friendly. We, on the other hand were getting cold. The pink in the sky was gone by the time we brought the packet back (each packet gets done three times to try to access the people who weren't home, but our last one was done once, by us because nobody wanted to do it). At around 6:00 we showed up at the most crowded polling location in Roanoke, Wake Forest Academy. This was where the fun really began. It was freezing outside and the people in line had to stand for over 3 hours to vote. Our job was to keep them there. We had coffee, hot chocolate, cream, sugar, donuts, hand warmers, water, etc. to keep them in lines. We had to pep them up, get them excited about what they were going to do! And in the three cold, dark hours that I held that line, Biden meant nothing. These people were why I was doing what I was doing. Because even though the sun was long gone we had our own light, a fire, because people were excited to make a difference. People knew their vote mattered. I gave so many hugs I lost count. So many people thanked me for what I was doing, which meant more than when Joe Biden thanked me. This was why I was here. This was why I was doing what I was doing. One woman named Vicki wanted me to stay in line with her until she went in the building and I couldn't go any further. A man thanked me repeatedly for what I was doing. The lines were so long people in cars were backed up and their names had to be taken down so they could still vote for curbside voting. One woman was in the car with her mom and her mom asked me 'Why are you voting for Obama?' I listed some of my many reasons and she said she was glad I had my own reasons and didn't just vote like my family just because. Another woman in line pointed at the Goodwill across the street and said to me 'You see there? I work there! I spend my whole day on my feet! I saw this line all day long!' She was so proud of herself. Another woman asked me 'When is your next meeting with Obama?' I was slightly perplexed but quickly explained that I haven't actually met him. Once the FO's left volunteers seemed to think I was in charge and began asking me all kinds of questions like what States Obama had won, where should we put the new boxes of donuts, etc. Even people who were higher up came to me to ask questions. The woman distributing car ballots asked me how many cars were in line and where the voters should go. Men came in to count ballots and they asked me where I would let them park. It was freezing cold outside and most of the other volunteers had shut down and were just trying to stay warm. While I was running car to car offering coffee and donuts, and just a good chat to keep them in the voting line. When one woman said she didn't want to wait any longer I gave her a long lecture of how in Virginia her vote was so important. She stayed. So while meeting Biden was a life changing experience it was the voters that made me feel better. That made me realize exactly why I put in so much time for this election. They were fired up. And they kept me going, when sometimes (especially last night) I didn't feel like I had anything left. I was running off 300 calories for the whole day, a ton of caffeine and through the roof adrenaline. But pretty soon all I had was adrenaline. And after three hours in the cold I had nothing. I couldn't give any more. I couldn't be in the cold any more. So after a while we got a ride back to campus and began watching the election results come in. It came down to Allison and I holding hands standing while CNN made yet another prediction. We were expecting they would predict Obama would win Virginia but they predicted he would win the election. None of the college dems could stand. We were all leaning on whoever we were hugging for support. We cried, and sobbed and could barely breath while we held each other. Because everything payed off in the end. And in a heartbeat I would do it all over again. November 7, 2012

Dear God

Dear God, Sometimes I feel like I am going insane during this campaign process. I feel like I am such a big part of the campaign. Many years in the past the presidential election relies heavily on voters in Virginia. But not just Virginia but NOVA, Northern VA. I have been assigned so many times to call people in NOVA I feel as though if Obama loses I will have lost too. You know how you are supposed to guide us through life? As if your hands are on our shoulders? Well I feel like Obama is standing with his shoes nice and shined on my shoulders. Not guiding me, but standing. Depending on me. Needing all of us to pull through. And while many people speculate that the crazy people are on the Republican side this is not true. One woman said she prayed to you and you told her to support Obama. No amount of praying or asking for guidance from you will tell these people who to vote for. This is the decision they need to make on their own. Yes, its scary. And while I am not praying for help or guidance because I've already cast my ballot and put my very heart and soul into this election, I am asking that the president who is elected will guide our country. Will help our country move forward not backward(not trying to refer to Obama here), improve our education system and economy even more as well as bring our country together to help form a more perfect union. Because you God cannot tell us who to vote for. We have to follow our hearts, minds and beliefs. My beliefs happen to correlate with Obama's. My mind and thinking is quite a lot like Obama's, as well as my heart. Because well, God, let's be honest, Obama is a pretty spiffy looking man. Amen. 11/5/12

Professional

I am a professional. Most likely not of what you think. There was him first. He liked me after I was done liking him. No words needed to be exchanged. Then there was him. He broke my heart first. And then I broke his. And then there was the third one. I never liked him. He didn't understand. He does now. And now there is him. And he is my friend. And I care about him. And I know he likes me. But I don't like him. He is one of my best friends. But we just can't date. He isn't the kind of person I would date. I can't. I don't like him. He likes me. And now tonight I will get my diploma. Because after the fourth one you become a professional. A professional heart breaker.

Confused

So many choices. This college? Or that college? This is your choice Emma. Are you well enough to go to class? This is your decision Emma. Do you want to be this? Do you want to be that? What do you want to be when you grow up? Your choice, Emma. Your Choice. Who do you want to be? You should just go talk to him. Get it over with. Say Hi.

This is ridiculous. Have you been to a party? Have you gotten drunk yet? It will be fun trust me. I thought this was my choice. Did you see him over break? I don't think you should see him ever. Did you chose your college yet? What did you decide to be when you grew up? Did you ever talk things out? Did you go to a party and get drunk? I thought I had to decide. Not have others chose for me. Who I am. What I should and shouldn't do. Who I should and shouldn't be. Why me? Some choices I don't want to make alone. But I have to. But the choices and decisions I want to make on my own, others try to decide for me.

Puzzle

Will I fit? Will I mold? Will it come together? Did it reshape and reform because I was gone? Was the hole repaired? Was it mended? Did I no longer fit? No. The hole was still there. And I fit right back, snugly in. Just like the piece was never missing. Like it was two months ago. Like it will be forever.

"Who Will You Be Supporting In This Upcoming November Election?"

The question gets asked over and over again. First if the person is available, then telling them I am a volunteer for Organizing for America and finally asking them who they will be voting for. Some people freely say, others don't. It becomes a pattern. The strong democrats pick up the phone. They want to talk about politics and they are so happy and upbeat as they say 'Obama of course.' The republicans, whether leaning, moderate or strong either seem to never answer the phone or if they do they seem resigned to say 'Romney.' As if they wish they weren't. Others still ask who I am voting for to find out who they should vote for. All I can say there is 'woman you are 78 and if you don't know who you are voting for at this point in your life, I can't help you.' Its so strange making these calls. Some people hang up others prefer not to answer. And when I hear a woman say she is voting for Romney I want to ask her a serious question. "Do you use birth control?" "Do you want your RIGHT to have access to that taken away?" "What if your daughter became pregnant and it was an at risk pregnancy where her and the baby could die. Do you not want her to get an abortion?" These questions bother me. Take my friend for example. She is on birth control. She is the strongest republican ever. Does she want that taken away? I want to ask her. I do wonder what she would say. I don't understand Women for Romney. What is he doing for women? Nothing. Well, I take that back. He is doing something. Taking away what women have a right to. Next he'll try to make it so they can't vote! "Who will you be supporting this upcoming election?" I seem to click republican one too many times. "Thank you for your time, have a nice evening." I finish, when sometimes in reality I want to say something else.

Cat and Mouse

I was the mouse. You were the cat. Swat swat goes the cat. The mouse goes farther into the corner. Bat bat goes the cat. The mouse goes farther into the corner still. But just out of the cats reach. Claws extended, hissing, laughing, got it this time. Playing the game, playing the game. Cat reaches. Stretches its paw are far as it will go. Reaching so far its eyes close just long enough. BAM!

I am the cat. You are the mouse. And now you're cornered. Your lies don't fly by me. You think you know what you're doing. You don't know anything. You were reaching blinding, lying, pretending you were tough. You pathetic mouse. Look who is small now. Not me. I am in control. I am not the victim anymore.

Broken (It hurts to breathe because every breath I take proves I can't live without you)

My heart breaks. But doesn't it always? Never ending perfect. Never ending right. Unanswered questions. Unsure. Unfair. Glossing over it all. I liked him. He liked me. We were too far away for him to start anything. Then somehow I found you and I like you. And you don't. But you made me think you did. So I am confused. It makes no sense. 2+2 equals four. I'm not stupid. And he doesn't feel bad or awkward, he thinks I should feel that way. He is okay.

When I find out who do I want to talk to? Him. The other him. The Vermont him. I want to talk to him about how you upset me. But he isn't even there. Because he doesn't want to talk to me. Why? Does it hurt too much? I need you. When I am broken. I need you. But you aren't there. And it hurts me. So we are both hurt. And I am broken. Broken by two boys. While I break another's heart because he likes me and I don't like him. And its hard for him to talk to me every day; at least thats what he said. He said its hard being just my friend. And I don't blame him. Because now I have to do what he is doing. But I realized, when I go home he'll be there. Friday night. And we can talk. Because even when I am broken, I need him. I don't need any other boy. I am still broken. Broken. So broken.

Talk To Me

I talk to you. You ignore me. How long will this go on? I just want to talk. Talk to you. But no, you ignore me. As friends, I want to talk. Not as a crush, not as anything, but friends. I talk to you. You ignore me. How long will this go on? I'll see you later. In December. Will you be embarrassed then? And wish you responded? Or will you not care? Because you are blocking me out. And boxing yourself in. And ignoring me. I talk to you. You ignore me. How long will this go on? I'm sorry I'm not where you are. I'm sorry you want me there, and that I went too far. Because right now while writing I'm wishing I were there too. Not for you, or anybody, but mainly just for me. Because its closer to home. But you are mad and sit in silence ignoring me. And we are back to where we started in the beginning of the summer. Nowhere. I talk to you. You ignore me. How long will this go on?

Alone

Alone I am. I am alone. Stuck in a room. I don't know how I got here. I don't know why I am here. I don't understand. I am lost. Alone. I feel like I chose to abandon myself. To tell my family, dump me here and go home. Go home without me. Leave me here. Alone. Alone. Alone I am. I am alone. Alone. Alone.

Tug Of War

Everyday is a tug of war. A tug of war of me against time. It ticks slowly on by, not caring, lazily letting minutes pass. Completely undeterred by the fear so many fear of time. For me it's college. I am on one end; the losing end. While time doesn't even have to do much pulling before I lose. Because there are 17 days left. And time is not on my side. And the more I try to pull the rope my way, the more time slips by and gives another tug. So finally I give up. I give in. I let time pull me; or drag me rather, across the line it wanted to all this time. And I lose, but by losing this game of tug of war with time, I've really won.

Written July 31, 2012

Graduation (Grass)

You stand. In two straight lines. Supposedly straight lines. Kevin; as always, is not listening. Riding around on some teacher's wheely chair. Nobody is sure where he got it. My head hurts, simply due to the fact of nerves, which I am hoping everyone else around me feels too. Everyone is sweating, trying not to ruin makeup and Jordan; of course, is attempting to keep the tassel from getting stuck on her eyelashes. The doors open and we move forward about five steps. Then we stop. Everyone's heart had been racing so fast. I almost felt as if I couldn't stand. Then people start shouting. "We're moving!" And everyone screams and claps. Then we walk through the doors of Harwood, for the last time as students. The hot sun glares down, but its still cooler than standing inside a cramped hallway for 45 minutes in line. People line the walking space and call out to graduates hoping they will look their way for a better shot. We march through the field and into the tent. People are everywhere and flashes blind you. Unsure if someone was just taking that picture of you, or someone else, you smile. Soon we sit down. My feet are killing me, thanks to my high heeled red shoes I have yet to break into. Mrs. Atwood starts talking to introduce the mornings graduation. And to go on about all the things we have achieved. I try to cross my legs to make my aching feet more comfortable, but fail. So I take off my shoes and gently rest my feet in the grass. And I feel okay. True, seeing on the bathroom divider "Don't worry, be happy. :)" was nice, but something about the grass in between my toes. The familiarness. The feeling we are all connected here at this place, by this grass. And everything will be okay. And I slightly revel in the idea that I am breaking a rule. A, you need to always wear shoes, rule. But sometimes you need to break rules, especially stupid ones. I wiggle my toes in the grass for reassurance, and I realize how good it is that there is grass. Written 6/24/12

Plastic

Plastic lips, plastic face
Plastic forehead, plastic embrace.
Plastic in cheeks, plastic seats.
Plastic to hold your butt up.
Plastic to enlarge your cups.
Plastic in the morning, keeping your sandwich warm.

Plastic in the rain to keep you from getting drenched.
Plastic in the evening to hold your food so wrecked.

God made plastic to hold things, not to go in you.
He didn't want it in your face or toes and boobies too.
God made plastic to keep us safe from water and heat and the like.

So smile and be happy because who you are is right!