Loud And Clear

I've never had a blog before, so I am still learning the censorship of it all. I'm still learning what I can write and what I can get away with as a blogger. I've already made a huge mistake on here. But, the lesson has been clearly and quickly learned. I apologize for any ill emotions caused by anything I have said on here thus far.

I aim to be a writer in some professional capacity in my career. This was a valuable lesson to learn, and I can only go from here. I just wish it wasn't such a hurtful and frustrating process.

But, then again, when has anything you've wanted badly been easy to get?

I remember when I was seven years old, wanting an American Girl doll so badly. Starting in the summer that year, my mom gave me an empty coffee tin of her International Delights amaretto coffee to save my money in until Christmas. I had the option to save all or part of my allowance each week. I also had the option to do more chores to earn more money.

This was my first checking account, in a sense. Or, maybe it was a savings account. I think that was the intention of my mom, but I did withdraw from the tin every once in a while. You know, if there was a new candy at Gardner's Candies, or a new collection of POGs at Wal-Mart. It depended on my mood each week. Candy and POGs were equally awesome at that point in my life.

Either way, at the end of the year, whether I got my American Girl doll or not was up to me, and only me. I was motivated by this challenge and the sense of responsibility. I loved that coffee tin. I loved pay day. I love seeing money grow and make things happen.

Being a business major, I guess not much has changed.

So, I worked really hard in that five month period. I dusted the house so many times. I cleaned the bathroom. I made my bed every day. I kept the floor in my room pretty clear most days. I set the table for dinner. It was a process, a daily process, but I didn't mind it for the most part.

I liked the challenge.

And, sure enough, Christmas morning came on December 25th, as it does every year. And, although I knew I had given my all, there was still a bit of doubt in the back of my mind, making me think my American Girl doll was not under the Christmas tree that morning.

She was, though, and she was beautiful. I loved to change her clothes and play with her hair every day. I named her Lindsey. She was so cool.

I learned a lot that year. I learned about money and the value of a dollar. I learned about working hard and working toward a goal. I learned that I like a challenge and I handle responsibility very well, even at a young age. And, today, 15 years later, I see that everything requires hard work, responsibility, and the drive to meet the challenge. It doesn't come easy, whatever it is you are aiming to get.

I gave this a strong effort, and I still have questions. I feel a bit cheated and used. But, I'm okay. I've learned a lot here. But, I also am reminded that everything is a process. I need to realize that not everybody realizes this hard, true fact.

Not everyone is fortunate enough to have had a fantastic mother, with an International Delights amaretto coffee tin to encourage a work ethic and a self-disciplining conscience.

Nope.

And now, today, I need to learn how to deal with that part of the population that have not learned these valuable lessons yet.

It sucks.

Hiccups Are Embarassing

So, I live in Friendship and work in Shadyside. It would be ridiculous to drive to and from work everyday, especially since parking on Walnut Street is horrendous and impossible. I would probably drive two minutes, park, and walk another half-dozen blocks to work.

Oh, and I don't have a car.

Needless to say, I walk to work everyday. Rain or shine. And it is mostly a good thing. The days that are really hot or really cold, or raining really hard, I really don't enjoy walking to work. But, for the most part, it keeps my legs fit. So I am happy about that.

A few days ago, I was on my way to work for an afternoon shift. I had already gone for a run and then successfully finished 6 cups of coffee, at this point.

Unfortunately for me, and this has haunted me since birth, when my stomach is too full of air, it really can't come out in one, exclamatory burp. For me, even when my mom burped me, I would start to hiccup. These hiccups can last and recur throughout the course of an entire day. I could hiccup initially for about 10 minutes, be fine, and then two hours later start hiccuping again.

How annoying, right?

Well, this day, because of the running and the coffee and the walking rather fast, I had hiccups off and on the entire morning. And my walk to work was no exception. I am so used to this hiccuping disease by now, I can control them and usually stop them fairly easily.

Today, my hiccups were winning.

So, I am walking across the East Busway on South Negley Avenue after six blocks of tiny, manageable hiccups. At the light, I stop and let out this HUGE hiccup.

I think I jumped.

And, luckily, no one heard it---Or, so I thought.

As I begin across the crosswalk, a mid-40's blonde woman with sunglasses, a business skirt suit on, tights, and white Nike sneakers starts coming across the crosswalk from the other side. As we walk by each other and get closer, she just smiles and turns her head downward, tilting slightly to the side.

"Aww, it's okay dear."

She seemed to feel sorry for me.

I was mortified!

It was one of those expressions that makes you want to crawl underneath your bed with a stuffed animal and cry. I reminded me of a thunderstorm with my little sister when we were seven and three.

You would think horrifying me with this expression would scare the hiccups out of my system, or so the old wives' tale would say.

Nope.

I had hiccups the rest of the day.

Just try putting mascara and liquid eyeliner on a woman six inches taller than you, while standing up with chronic hiccups.

I Am A Horrible Writer

It's been five---technically, six---days since my last blog.

I officially have a boyfriend.

I am going to San Francisco with Sephora to try out to be a trainer.

And as of 19 minutes ago, my baby sister is 19 years old. She also moved in with her fiance this week to their new apartment.

Yet, I have no desire to write about any of this. I have no strength or brain to put to any one of these events or any stories from the last five days.

I am far from speechless, but I have absolutely nothing to write.

I am a horrible writer.

Slicing Red Onions Made Me Cry And Then I Rubbed Them With My Fingers

I am a genius.

Tonight after work, I made panzanella for the 4th of July picnic tomorrow night. It's a delicious traditional Italian bread salad, and it is so easy to make. I made my own version, though. I combined bread, tomatoes, red onion, hot banana pepper rings, green and kalamata olives, garlic, EVOO and balsamic vinegar in a bowl. It's marinating over night in the refrigerator. Yum-o!

Unfortunately for me, though. I was slicing the red onion and my eyes really started to sting and water. That typically doesn't happen for me when I slice onion, so I guess this one was particularly pungent. Luckily, Bekah loves onion. If she could eat onions like apples, she would, if it weren't for all of the strange stares she would get. And Ted still kisses me with garlic breath, so taste is not an issue at this point. I am just extremely emotional at this point...Or, so it may seem.

So, instead of washing my hands and rubbing my eyes like a sensible girl should, I just dug my fingers into my eye sockets and filled them with onion residue.

Delish.

I'm still teary-eyed and so full of regret.

Happy 4th of July to you all! Enjoy your family and friends, and please be safe!

I Skipped Blogging For A Week

Yup.

I haven't had a new post here since Monday. I only started this blog a little over two weeks ago, and I am already tapering off at the ends.

To be honest, I've met a new boy.

But, a few things have been set on the back burner.

As you can see, I haven't been blogging all week. This is unfortunate both for you and for me. I love writing here. I can let go of my thoughts and release without inhibition. I also haven't been doing my ab routine every night. I have done an ab routine every night since April. Four times this week isn't bad, but it still isn't seven times.

I can feel the flab, spilling over my pants.

I have, however, kept up with my running. I also have been cleaning a lot more! And I've discovered a bunch of new things about myself.

I can definitely cook. I can even experiment in the kitchen, and the finished meal always surprises me.

I can be very understanding. I can also be laid back, but still feel like I am in control of myself and my own actions. I don't have to be the perfectionist I always have known myself to be. I can be in control of my own emotions and actions, and still be laid back.

I smile a lot, and always have. But this is a different kind of smile.

This is how I've always wanted to be.

And now I know that I am who I've always wanted to be.

Money Sucks

I skipped a day on here. I am so sorry, folks. I hope you didn't miss me too much.

I get pissed very rarely. If I do, it is one of a few things that fundamentally just eat me up inside. Today, it happens to be companies that seem to misplace any record or piece of paper that regards Emily Harnett and her finances. I worked in medical records for a doctor's office of over 40 physicians and over 30,000 patients. I know that organization can be difficult and almost tedious, but seriously people, it is your job to keep paper you receive in the right place. If you hate your job, there is something else that needs to be addressed aside from the paperwork.

I have gotten letters and e-mails from the Office of Financial Aid at my school, Point Park University, almost every week since the end of the Spring semester in April. Each form of correspondence indicates that my signed W-2 and Federal Tax Return from 2009 have not been received. And each time I receive a letter, I call them and tell them I came to the office and handed a counselor a new signed copy of each of these forms. I print them in the computer lab above the office and bring them down, hot off the press.

Today, two weeks after the last misfiling of my financial forms, I got an e-mail stating that my signed W-2 and Federal Tax Return from 2009 had not been received.

Come on, guys! Let's get your junk together!

After being put on hold twice for a total of about five minutes with two different financial aid counselors, they found both signed forms.

A-ha!

Hopefully, that is the end of that.

On a whole other note, with my bank, I am so impatient for my monthly bills to be posted to my account. Some of these payments were paid a week ago and still haven't posted. I am getting really irritated. I know that I don't have any money to spend until my next paycheck, but the fact that my bank statement says I have all this money in my account, despite the money being used for bills, it is just a tease.

I hate teases.

Actually, I take that back. I can be quite the tease. Tinkerbell and I are soul mates.

But, in the case of teasing me with money, I hate teases. It isn't fair. You'd think electronic payments would be a little faster than mailing a check, here in the 21st century. But, I guess you would be wrong thinking that way.

I guess what I am trying to do with today's entry is to rant and rave about money. Why have we become so controlled by money, today? Why does money intrigue such deep emotion, controversy, and power? We feel strapped if we have much and strapped if we do not. Nothing else on this earth has this kind of power over a person, emotionally and physically. And if we can name something with that kind of persuasion, it somehow traces back to money in some way.

Am I correct?

Let me know your thoughts, if you can. I'd love to hear them.

An 88 Year Old Woman Made Me Cry

I had a short day at work today. I was only scheduled from 2:30 until close, so I spent the morning reading and watching some new episodes on the Food Network. Yes, just like last night's post said I would.

So, my day began as normal as it possibly could. I would have liked to wake up earlier and go for a run, but I stayed up until almost 2am, reading my book. I slept in pretty late. If any of you are wondering if Steig Larsson's trilogy at the top of the NY Times Bestseller list are fluff and hype, just know that they are fantastic. I haven't been this captivated by a story line in so long. It is very refreshing. I read every word, just so that I don't miss anything. I tried to take it to work for my lunch breaks, but it just destroys the story. I need to be completely focused on the story to really experience it.

But, today I had a 15 minute break. I didn't have to pout as I left the book at home. I left a little early for work, as I usually do. I remembered my sunscreen and my protein bar for lunch. I forgot a hair tie, but I braved the humidity without it.

I got outside and there was a yard sale in my neighbors' front yard. Mostly junk. But, hey, there is definitely something to be said for a good, solid effort.

I started walking up my street, South Negley Avenue, and saw an elderly woman standing at the bus stop and a younger woman sitting on the steps near the bus stop. I was about 50 feet away from her and she suddenly gasped and grabbed for the tree nearby. She collapsed and fell into the street, as cars continued to drive by her side. She didn't move at first, so I ran over to her and tried to direct the cars into a single lane. They were driving far too close to her for comfort. It made me so angry.

I dialed 911.

She was a black woman, but her legs were covered in white spots. She fallen hard on her side, and her arm was bright red. Her skin was hot to the touch.

A few people stopped by and said they would get some water and fan her. They brought a pillow. We had a nice group of people to help. I stayed on the phone with dispatch. Apparently, I am very calm and authoritative in an emergency situation.

"Have you ever had a heart attack or angina?"

"I'm sorry, she won't answer the question. She is burning up. Can you please send help now?"

They were probably checking to make sure the trip would be worth their while.

She finally gained enough strength to sit up on the curb. The pavement was so hot, and I felt that was the best thing for her. The water came, but she wasn't permitted to drink it. I had Nina put some of the cold water on her arms and legs to try and bring her temperature down a bit. The dispatch told me that she couldn't eat or drink, just to cut down the potential of her getting sicker until the ambulance arrived.

Understood.

She eventually started to talk. I called work to let them know I might be a little bit late. And the ambulance seemed to be taking its grand ole time, driving up the street. Richard called and emphasized to the dispatcher that we needed the ambulance to step on the gas.

It worked.

The ambulance came, much to her dismay, and they checked her vitals and lifted her into the ambulance. She originally didn't want me to call 911, but I insisted she at least get a checkup before she went home to lie down for the afternoon. I guessed she was about 60 when I described her to the dispatcher.

She was 88 years old.

Her neighbor came over and said she would stay with her whether she went to the hospital or back to her apartment across the street. She didn't want my phone number, so I made sure that everything was okay with the EMTs and continued my walk to work.

It must have been the adrenaline rush of the whole experience, but as I walked to Shadyside, I felt a huge wave of anxiety and distress. I didn't like leaving her. I didn't like even more the fact that she was 88 years old, living alone in Pittsburgh, and waiting for the bus in the summer to go to Giant Eagle.

This 88 year old woman made me cry.

I actually never got her name, because she wasn't willing to share that information when I was checking her vitals. She made such an impact on my day---And I think I will always remember this incident---yet, I would never see her again and I didn't even know her name. Usually, when you do the right thing, you often feel very good about yourself.

I felt terrible.

I felt like there was something more I could have done for her. I was really hoping that I would give her my number, she would call me someday, and I could help her carry her groceries to her apartment. Something!

But, now as I see the situation from afar, I can see that those events would only bring benefit to my own intentions. The good deed should be about the person in need. She needed help, and I helped her. She didn't really know me, and I really didn't know her. And those facts still remain. It was just a minute in our lives, but it makes me certain that the best moments in your life are the ones that you can do the right thing and walk away without lingering or wondering.

As I got closer to Walnut Street, a man stopped his car in the middle of the road and asked me for directions to a place I did not know.

I suppose at this point, I have a huge neon sign on my head that reads "Please, ask for my help."

I learned a lot of about myself today. I learned a lot about other people, too. It was nice to see strangers band together to help someone else. It was horrible to see other people drive in the shoulder of the street, while a woman is lying down in obvious trouble.

There are good and bad apples everywhere. I hear the bad, ugly apples are used to make apple cider and get squashed in the end. I would like to know if that's a metaphor from beyond our universe.