This...

...is my best friend.

And she rocks.

        Her name is Bobbie, and yes, she's beautiful. She deals with all of my craziness, and my country music. Now THAT, is love. We eat way too much sushi, do way too much shopping, and obsess over prom more than anyone should be allowed to (by the way, it's September, and I have my dress picked out. AH!). She's the peanut butter to my jelly, the apple to my pie, the straw to my berry.

BLAH.BLAH.BLAH.

        No one has ever said THAT before, right? So, I guess I'll give you a better description of our relationship.

        Her family makes fun of us for being "lesbian" for each other. We get each other presents every week for our "weekaversary." She got me concert tickets, I got her Tiffany's. We complain about everything and everyone all the time. We make fun of our sophomore history teacher together (even though we love him). We listen to bad pop music together.

        Basically, we're a match made in heaven. Hallelujah, Amen.

Camp.

        

      I am completely obsessed with my job. Partly because I don't have to sit in a stuffy building all day that smells like grease while people yell at me for getting their overly complicated order wrong, and partly because I get to do go on hikes with three year olds, while singing One Direction with them. I can't even begin to express how much these children mean to me. But, of course, I'm going to try.

       Our group name? The Oh La La Olallieberries. Does it make sense? Of course not. Is it one of the most phenomenal group names to ever exist on this planet? Why, yes; yes it is. 

        I had eight three year olds, that were all about to turn four. Every last one of them was incredible. And trust me when I say that. No one could have formed a better group. They were all friends, and they all loved to watch the others succeed. Anyone who has worked with kids this age knows that this is no small feat. Let me explain.

        One of the activities that we do at camp is swim. Or at least we try to. Some kids are like fish, and others want nothing to do with the water. I mean, it's understandable. But one of the frustrating things about going to the pool is helping the kids change afterwards. Because they don't know how to do it. One day, my counselor team and I decided that it was time to let our kids change on their own, as we had plenty of time until we had to be at our next activity. It went a little something like this.

        "Emma! Which hole do I put my head in?" "Emmaaaaa, where's my other sock?" "EMMA! I NEED HELP!" Needless to day, it was a mess. However, I had a few girls that had no trouble pulling on their socks and shoes, and were done in no time. So as I was helping one of my campers find their mysterious missing sock, I turned around to find my already dressed girls helping her twin brother with his clothes.

        "No, the tag goes in the baaaack!...yeah! Like that!" And as velcro shoes are quite difficult, she even helped him with those. It was one of those moments when my campers taught ME something, rather than the other way around. If someone needs help, help them. It's really quite simple. 

        Like I said, I'm obsessed with my job. From the kid that sings "I Love Rock and Roll" while he air guitars, to the little girl that asks if she can hold my hand. I would not be the same person I am without them.

        And that, my friends, is quite special.

A Holey Pair of Jeans

dear World,

I'm Emma.

       You guessed it, I love country music. Brad Paisley and I are lowkey best friends (he doesn't know yet). I also love singing, and soccer. But above all, I love to write. I love turning my thoughts in to something that can make someone smile, or telling a story to brighten up someone's day. Don't be fooled, I don't love to write because of an audience. I love it because there are no rules; no one can tell me that what I'm doing is wrong. Sure, it can be improved, but my words are MINE, and no one else's.
       So, here I am, to write. Not that anyone will be listening, but it will provide an outlet when all I want to do is punch the world in the face. Or for when I'm bored. Or when I'm home with no plans on a Saturday night (it happens more often than it should).
       I can't guarantee that everything on this blog will be 100% grammatically correct, or interesting, or even be great writing, but thanks for being patient.

Also, keep in mind that I'm a 17 year old girl. So there will be lots of boy bands and glitter. But I can promise that nowhere, and I mean NOWHERE, on this page will there be anything at all about this Twilight crap.

You're welcome.