Going in a Different Direction

               When I was growing up, I had the best backyard anyone could dream of. It was like something from a 5^th grade -reading -level novel. Immediately behind my house, there’s a wash (once known as Cub Lake, but since has been drained) with ancient, tall trees on either side. Further along, if you were to walk down this wash, you would come across my neighbor’s tire swing, which my siblings/cousins and I have broken at least three times. Past that, there’s a meadow where there used to be a giant log we’d have to climb over to get to. The meadow is almost a perfect square, bordered with tall pine trees, and a flimsy wire fence dividing it in half, but bent down into the sharp grass, so you could trip over it if you’re running and not looking out for it. Beyond the meadow, there used to be an abandoned observatory we weren’t allowed to go in, but did anyway. The observatory has been torn down for at least five years, but it was pretty cool. Beyond that, if you go back up to where the road is, you’ll find the backside of the hill that’s in front of my house. This side, hidden from the main road, used to be covered in giant boulders that we would climb and find hidden “forts” in. It probably wasn’t the safest idea to squeeze underneath randomly placed boulders, but again, it was pretty cool, and the rocks had fossilized sea shells stuck all over them. Growing up, we would play in my backyard about everyday, especially in the summer.
            Today, in “adult land” I received an e -mail from my boss, telling me that she no longer has a position open for me as a late- day teacher. Her reasoning was understandable, they’re making cuts and she’s been getting pressure from the owners to downsize. She also told me that she really wanted to find a position for me, and that she wants to put me on the top of her sub –list, and wondered if I could still go to Flagstaff early to help them set up. I’m super heartbroken about this. I’ll try to shy away from getting too rant-y on this, but finding something like this out just sucks. I’ve been talking for awhile now about how I really, really miss my “kids.” How much I love being a teacher, and how awesome its going to be this year to see how they’ve grown, and meet the new students. I worked very hard all last semester to juggle my full load of classes, and working extra hours to help them out when they were short- handed. And just last May, I remember I was ecstatic when they asked me if I would come back next year. This was a job I loved, that I looked forward to, and ache to think about how long it’s been since I’ve seen my students. I also was depending on the money, even though it wasn’t much, it would have been almost enough to cover my housing for next year. Despite my joyful testimony about how I’ll be debt –free when I graduate, it looks as though this isn’t going to work out either.

            After my good cry, bowl of ice cream, and zombie –staring at the television for a good hour or so, I looked outside. The sky was gray and thunder was rumbling in the distance. I went downstairs and opened the door to my backyard. I walked down into the wash, and made my way slowly to the meadow. I noticed some changes, the giant log has been mysteriously removed, some of the trees have fallen, and/or died, but it was still my playground, as if an eight year old me just left it yesterday. In the back of the meadow, I sat on the hill right before the forest begins again, and stared at the marvelousness before me. The sky was a deep -sea blue -gray, the giant, ancient trees swaying back and forth, bark black from being damp, and millions of pine needles puffing out in a thriving bright green color. For a moment, I just sat up there and gladly transitioned my thoughts on the beauty of creation. There are no remnants save for empty space where the observatory was, and the boulders have been removed and instead there’s a track for dirt bikes and quads. But as I walked along the road, sandwiched between the forest and the hill outside my house, I could see a few kids chasing each other where the boulders used to be. I waved at a neighbor, letting her dog out, and stopped by to visit my Grandpa and his new wife, Vicki. This was the first time I’ve done that walk in the two months I’ve been home. It’s funny how easily we forget the things that enriched our childhood. I didn’t come up with any solutions for my problems from walking around in a forest, I didn’t become a vegan, or Earth –worshiper, or decide to pull an “Into the Wild” adventure (listening to Eddie Vedder’s “Society” from that movie). The only epiphany I had, was remembering that God is good. I am alive, well, and I have options. Maybe I’ll decide to stay home for the three weeks I planned to couch- surf, and instead paint or wallow in grief or both and come out with a very depressing macabre series. Maybe I’ll be such an awesome sub, that they’ll pay me double and it’ll make up for my lack of hours. Or maybe I’ll become a billionaire etsy seller, and never have to complete my senior year in college, and paint pictures of myself rolling in cash. Until then, the name no longer gets a “miss” with it, so… that’s awkward.

Miss Emma’s Art’s on Etsy!

          Here it is! I finally got my Etsy account up and running! You should probably buy one of each print to be on my good side. Haha… But really. It actually wasn’t as hard as it seemed like it would be, but we’ll see if it takes off. I think what the real challenge was describing my paintings in a serious- advertising way. It was awkward. Therefore, I shortened the amount of time I spent on it, and you’ll find out that every single one of my paintings work well in “every room of the house” and a majority are “great conversation -starters.”

            I’m also pretty lost as to which paintings to sell. I just added 8 of them so far- which Etsy informed me, is 2 short from what is recommended for a shop owner to start out with. So, I’m open to all and any requests. Seriously- comment to let me know which ones ya’ll think I should sell. Also, for the pessimists out there- tell me which ones you think I shouldn’t sell.

            Of course, If you live in my area (or my parent’s area) don’t feel obligated to go through Etsy, and just message me if you want a print! You can see ALL the available prints, modeled by beautiful Kelci on my “For Sale” page if you don’t feel like following the link to my Etsy page: http://www.etsy.com/shop/MissEmmasArt

"YOLO" from Show Low

             

                Well, another month has gone by without a blog from me, and you may have wondered to yourself: “Whats the haps with the Emms?” in those six consecutive words. I can truthfully answer that question for the first time in months with a shrug and a “Not much” which is awesome. Instead of an array of responsibilities and a strict schedule, I’ve been bouncing from odd job to odd job, and focusing on art, reading, Netflix (thanks again, Anna), and special Emma- Kelci time.

            This past week, I’ve been able to spend super awesome sister time, with my cute little- big sister, Kelci. During that time, I used my embarrassingly small knowledge of photography (sorry talented photographer friends), as well as some carefully -honed picmonkey.com skillz, and played “fancy girls night” where we took fun pictures of beautiful Kelci with my art and used them for my blog promos. I figured out how to get prints made of my paintings, and I now have a Facebook page, which, after merely six(ish) days, has accumulated 103 ‘likes,’ (in no small part to the harassment measures Kelci and I took to let ALL our friends know about the page, and the supportive friends who shared the page with their friends). Also, with undeterminable credit towards the mock “failed advertisement strategy” including the eccentric shots of lovely Kelci, and the “This Could Be YOU” slogan, I’ve sold seven of my prints so far. This much attention has been pretty shocking/ encouraging to me so far. Its awesome, but it’s also pretty intimidating. There’s a certain amount of professionalism that is now expected of me, and I’m a nineteen- year- old living in between YOLO and Hipsterville, Arizona; between the parents’ house and a dorm room. I also will be setting up an Etsy account within the next week, and I’m thankful that now I have the time to get all of these things ready to go before school/ work start back up again. Hopefully, I’ll be able to keep up with painting/ blogging along with all that, but don’t hold your breath during the school year, dear readers.

            R&R time has also been great to spend more time with God. Living with Kelci is always an awesome reminder of how much God loves me, since she’s been immersed in a culture that is always eager to share God’s heart with others as a means of casual interactions, for the past two years. I feel like she imparts something incredibly powerful about God every single day to me. Yesterday, she let me know that: “God does things through us, and then gives us credit for it” which lead to my head exploding. She also is probably going to be famous, so it’s important for me to brush over the fact that she beats me if I don’t “repent” before every meal. Being a teacher/artist is gonna acquire some of her connections and financial assistance in the future, plus most people will think that was a joke. Love ya, sis!

            I feel as though I’m getting a perfect break, and able to accomplish all that I’ve been determined to accomplish for the summer, while also growing in intimacy with Christ. It’s so so amazing to have this time, and I hope your summer is going just about the same. Love you all! Don’t do drugs!

            

Miss Emma's Day Off

          It’s been over a month since my last post, and I haven’t even bothered to get on this page since, so that on my Chrome settings, Buzzfeed is suggested over this site. I think that sort of sums up how this past month has gone for me. My problem with procrastination is that I somehow end up with nine major projects due in the last week of school, and think I am probably going to fail until the very last day, when I check my grades and see that, for the most part, I’m probably okay. I took my last final last Tuesday, about 5 days after the semester ended, so “burned out” is an understatement about how I feel about school at this moment. I’m still in Flag, just to couch- surf for the next three weeks until the Montessori school gets out. And I hope to blog/ paint/ do stuff that makes me happy, in my spare time. Today was to mark the first official day of “Summer Happy Time”.

            The cool thing about my job, is that I am off by 5:30 and have both Saturday and Sunday off. Not many hard working college students can say that. Because of school, my Saturdays consisted of campus food, homework, and a little bit of “cleaning”. Today (Saturday the 18^th), was my first real day off, as I didn’t have anywhere to be, no homework, I could sleep in, I found out that I got paid 2 days early, and it was all about being care free, catching up on sleep, and gathering my bearings. It started off just right- I slept until 12:00, and went downstairs to make myself a small parfait. I’m staying at my two friend’s apartment this week- both of whom are out of town, so it’s been pretty laid back and solitary. At 2:00, I decided to drive my dad’s car (which he loaned me for the next few weeks), so I could air up Lizzie McGuire’s tires. She’d been locked up at the Student Union for about a week because I refused to ride her with her tires flat. Walking to the parking lot, I suddenly got a “funny feeling” about my Pop’s car. And long story short –the beautiful silver Honda Civic that I’ve been essentially living out of, was gone. Towed. I wasn’t as hysteric as I thought I’d be, but that was sure to come soon. I returned to my friends’ apartment and explained the situation to their super awesome roommate, Ashley. She not only drove me to the towing yard (about 20-30 min away) and waited for an additional 30 min to wait for the people, and drove me to the nearest ATM, but she, too grumbled and ranted about how stupid vicious the parking situation in Flagstaff is. GO ASHLEY! The towing man on the phone was a little less than understanding, but the dude who showed up knocked down the price a lot when I used my extremely genuine and innocent tears when realizing the initial charge was more than half my recent paycheck.

            When we got back, I got a new parking pass, and drove to the Campus Coffee Bean to sit and get- over the shock of having something I rely on taken away so easily because of an expired piece of paper. I had to rely on a semi-stranger’s kindness and a complete stranger’s kindness to help me get back something that I don’t own, but that I needed. I was thinking about how nothing I own is ever truly “mine,” about how it was way less painful for me to spend thousands on a computer, but agonizing to spend a significantly smaller amount to take ownership of an expired parking pass. I was also reminded of the large IOU I’ve accumulated over the past semester of tithe money from my job. I remembered how I have yet to fill out a support letter for a friend’s mission trip, I was also reminded of the “freebee” painting I’ve agreed to paint for an old family friend’s worship center somewhere in Minnesota. This lead me towards a more optimistic approach: I was blessed that I had enough money to pay towing fees, I was blessed that the guy gave me a discount, I was blessed to have someone available to drive me to the tow yard, I was blessed that I was able to retrieve the car today, I was blessed to have emotional support, that this happened on my day off -so I wasn’t missing work, and I am blessed that my parents lent me their car for this transitioning time this summer. This, mixed with a little too much caffeine, and the sweet tunage in my dad’s car, inspired me to go out and find some canvas for my friend’s Worship Center piece. I found smokin dealz at Michaels, and drove back to my friend’s place with 12 high-quality canvases for $40, which is stupid cheap, for those who don’t know. I went from thinking/ feeling like a victimized little girl, to once again claiming my larger purpose, and offering all I have to God. I decided to turn this experience of a “screwy day” into something a little more productive. All because I decided to buy myself a yummy coffee drink. The End.  

Tattoo

            I think a lot of people in my generation would agree that tattoos are considered art. Our parents may roll their eyes, but we know better, kids ALWAYS know better than their parents- it’s a given. Having said that, I plan on getting tattoos- I feel they are a sentiment of my faith- my art- siness, and just a side effect of living in Flagstaff. I start this off whimsically, because I want to share a bit about a tattoo I’ve been planning on getting in an “easy- to- hide- but- not- sexy” place either above my knee or on my meaty bicep. I actually have a total of 3 tat ideas (because you can’t just have one) but this tat is probably the most significant one to me. So grab yo tissues, Fluff, cause this is gonna make you cry, and not just because I’m planning to permanently engrave on my epidermis.

            When I was getting ready for my high school/ community college graduation, I received a special letter from my mom. What made this letter “special” was because my mom died when I was nine years old from cancer. I tell this story, not to dampen your spirits or to encourage a long message telling me ALL about how knowing this about me makes you feel such and such ways. I tell you this because whether I want to admit it or not, this event has shaped most of my life since. One thing that I have come to realize through Christ is that in the scope of His story, this major event in my life is miniscule.

            My pastor brought this up last Sunday, and I think that it is a great illustration of what I mean. In 1873, Horatio G. Spafford wrote the famous hymn: “It is Well With My Soul” after losing all his money in the great Chicago Fire, as well as his four daughters to a shipwreck. In the second- to last verse he wrote:

But, Lord, ‘tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,

The sky, not the grave, is our goal;

Oh trump of the angel! Oh voice of the Lord!

Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul!

            Whether or not I find myself in unfavorable circumstances, the Good News of Christ should always be my comfort- my goal. My soul rests, not because of earthly comforts, but because of Jesus. Therefore whether I prosper or suffer, my soul is always well because the Lord has redeemed it from this fallen world. If Spafford could say that it was well with his soul after such extenuating circumstances, how can I, who have the unconditional love and support of 2 parents on earth, and 1 parent in the safety of heaven’s gates, can I dwell on the earthly loss of the later?

            In the letter from my mom, there is a particular line that will always be significant to me: “… when you have Christ it’s “See ya later” not “goodbye” that you say.” Even though I only knew my mother for the first 9 years of my life- half of which she spent sick with cancer, I cannot, and refuse to, mourn the years “lost,” because in the scope of eternity, most of the time I spend knowing my mother will be spent in a place where there is no sickness. This line, written when I was only seven years old, is in her handwriting, and I am getting it tattooed on my body. The funny thing is, I know she’d hate it if I got a tattoo, but when I see her again, I doubt she’ll be able to scold me about it- because I’m sure it wont be on my new body. But it will stand as a reminder in this harsh world, of my future and hope. It is a reminder of God’s love for me, because I know, somewhere in a heavenly log cabin, my mother waits to hang out with me, and in the meantime, in a log cabin in Show Low (YOLO) AZ, I have two equally loving parents, who are there to guide me through the hardships of this life.

            I don’t want to leave you with the impression that I don’t mourn the loss of my mom. It’s still a sad topic. But the joy of Christ is so much bigger and significant in the scope of eternity, that there is no other way I can possibly introduce it to the world. My mom’s death was sad, but I can’t leave it there, because it is not a tragedy- it is a victory and it is well with my soul. 

Dots

              The thing I hate most about patience, is at some point, while you’re trying to become more patient in life, you wonder: “When will I finally be patient, so I can stop trying so hard to be patient?” My failings with this spiritual fruit tend to become more evident while I’m pulling 10 -hour shifts at the preschool. Ladies and Gentlemen, that is a 7:30a- 5:30p day trying to get 3-6 year olds to “listen”. There comes a point, between wrangling children off of trees, and trying to explain why they shouldn’t use bathroom words, where my first response is to shoot a firm cry of “JUST SSTAAAAAHHHP!” when kids decide it’s a great idea to push each other in line, instead of stand statuesque with their hands behind their back and a bubble in their mouths. And sometimes, when I have to calm down a screaming child, I’m tempted to start crying and tell them how much I want to see my daddy.

            Art tends to be the most therapeutic outlet for when I’m coming off a long patience- testing day. Whether or not it’s a difficult project I’m planning, I can usually count on finishing it within a few weeks, and I enjoy taking my time on certain deets. Except for “Dots.” That one sucked. I knew that I liked doing “stippling” with a felt- tip and figured doing it with paint (i.e. “pointillism”), while being more time -consuming, would give me more street- cred. I think it was the way that I chose to go about it. To do pointillism, you can make the dots any size in the world you want. Being cocky, I chose to use one of my smallest brushes. It also does not matter how big the canvas/ paper is. I decided to use a 16x20. Also, for each area of a certain “color”, you have to make 12 different unique mixtures of paint so that people can tell it’s made of dots, and not just a regular old painting. It wastes paint, time, brainpower, and is not rewarding for a long time. I began “Dots” May of 2012, and finished it February 2013. That’s about 10 months. My initial goal was to finish it by the end of summer. Working for five hours would get me a fist- sized area of blue for the sky, and to put that in perspective, I have small hands.

            I didn’t like working for hours on a thankless job every weekend. I like seeing results within the first couple hours: something to enjoy watching the process of, not a ¾ blank canvas with scattered dots of paint and smudges of pencil. But I needed to do it. Mostly for ‘afore mentioned street cred; but also because it was an excellent practice. When I invested my time in it, the part of me with the tiny ounce of patience enjoyed it. It was rewarding to think that I could sit patiently for hours at a time and meticulously choose where to put the next dot. I liked making a dome- shape of paint on the flat canvas, and allowing it to dry before going back to that spot to lay down another dot. It was sick, but I liked it sometimes.

            It was a much -needed lesson in patience, and I’m pretty happy about how it turned out. The moment it was over, I thought to myself “never again.” But usually when I say that, I end up doing it again. So, to continue punishing myself, I’ve begun another one. It’s the same 16x20 sized canvas, and I’m using my thinnest brush. Only this time, the picture is way more complicated, and it’s gonna suck.