Emily Rose writes a blog!

Thinking of buying a new domain name.

Sun, 08 Nov 2009 23:39:53 -0500

It’s sharktrivia.com. For accumulating and assembling facts about sharks— like, basically, a clearinghouse for shark information. Should I get it?

A play I wrote recently, called “In the Air...

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 22:37:00 -0500

A play I wrote recently, called “In the Air Tonight,” was selected to be performed in my school’s annual student-produced one-act play series next month. The director of my show invited me to call-backs tonight for the two roles, and at first I was so giddy I couldn’t believe it. Here were people— good looking, talented people!— passionately acting out the words I worked so hard to perfect, words of which I couldn’t feel more proud. And then after about an hour I wanted to puke because I was so sick of hearing those words— my shitty, pedantic words, words which could have been written more carefully and honestly. It felt like the actors auditioning read that script a hundred times, and each time it elicited a different reaction in me.

When it was over, I wasn’t sure how I felt. But I know there’s nothing like it, and I don’t want it to go away.

(The video is what I’ve listened to on repeat over the past two months while hunched over my computer and a teriyaki bowl. If you want inspiration, Phil Collins is really your man.)

"That’s only a lot worse according to you."

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 16:41:49 -0500

“That’s only a lot worse according to you.”

- my dad’s reply

"I don’t think you realize how much worse this could be. My decomposing corpse could be rotting..."

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 16:21:03 -0500

“I don’t think you realize how much worse this could be. My decomposing corpse could be rotting somewhere with five other strangled bodies in East Cleveland, next to a sausage factory. Think of how pissed you’d be then.”

- text I sent to my dad after I shattered my back windshield while backing into a dumpster and then asked him to pay for it

Loved Halloweekend. This is my favorite picture, taken on Friday...

Sun, 01 Nov 2009 14:20:58 -0500

Loved Halloweekend. This is my favorite picture, taken on Friday night before heading out to Senior Night. I am the last queen of France, Maine native Laura is a moose, and Houlihan is ineffably, and always, himself.

Halloween Senior Night is in 21 hours

Fri, 30 Oct 2009 00:48:54 -0400

I’ve got a blonde wig, a crinoline skirt, and three yards of silk fabric and lace. I haven’t worn heels in four years, the lining of my top needs interfacing and sewing, and the iron is threatening to melt everything.

And (spoiler alert) if I don’t win that costume contest tomorrow, heads will roll. Not unlike my character.

"oh i miss you here every day. whenever i do something, like climbing lion’s head a few..."

Sun, 25 Oct 2009 20:14:00 -0400

“oh i miss you here every day. whenever i do something, like climbing lion’s head a few weekends ago, i think “emily would have loved this” or “i wish emily could be here”. and now summer is coming and of course the city is glorious…”

- emails from Cape Town sometimes depress me

I have all the pieces for my Halloween costume except the wig

Sun, 25 Oct 2009 19:57:39 -0400

frictionlesssuperfeet:

Now I just have to do a bit of cutting and sewing, and we’ll be off to the races!

I elected to sew my Halloween costume this year when I went home for fall break. It still requires lace, bows, and a wig, and I don’t know how I’ll finish it this week, but my mom definitely called today and said “I got your Visa bill. You need to finish that costume, or I will kill you.” She didn’t really say that (Jen Rose is very non-violent), but the get-up still should be, in a word, bonkers.

Marino, I challenge you to top me.

Nathan woke me up by offering tea, I remember. This seemed...

Fri, 23 Oct 2009 11:01:00 -0400

Nathan woke me up by offering tea, I remember. This seemed ridiculous: I was hungover, obviously, but we were in the middle of South African sweltering summer, and a hot beverage sounded about as appealing as another shot of gin. I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes.
“What are you thinking about, cupcake?”
“I want this t-shirt,” I said, looking down onto the logo emblazoned on my chest. Pretoria Boys High.
“Take it,” he said. “I have fifteen others in the closet. You can wear it home.” His smile was so sad. With everything we’d talked about, how he spent the whole night crying, this was the most trivial thing he would have to deal with all day.
“Plus you owe me,” I said. “For misleading me about being gay and everything.” I was the only one he’d told, and we both knew the road ahead would be long, but I still felt the need to banter him.
“I do,” Nathan said. And he looked at me with real pain and tenderness, and I pitied him. Then he drove me home. It would be the last time I came to the house in Claremont.

Waking up alone in my Pretoria Boys High t-shirt— 9,000 miles away from where I acquired it, Indian summer now over, rain beating down on my roof— always calls to mind an easier time: when love was a sweating cocktail waiting to be gulped down all at once, when the sultry weather made sharing a bed unbearable, and when goodbyes were given with a parting gift.

Me: Seriously, I am losing it. My mask of sanity is rapidly melting away.

Fri, 23 Oct 2009 01:47:23 -0400

Me: Seriously, I am losing it. My mask of sanity is rapidly melting away.
Nora: It's actually more like face paint.

I love news on Twitter. It’s brief, it’s convenient,...

Fri, 09 Oct 2009 09:26:00 -0400

I love news on Twitter. It’s brief, it’s convenient, it’s changing the whole way we consume media, blah, blah, blah. But I woke up this morning, read this, and thought, “Oh my God, someone has BOMBED the MOON,” thinking, like, Dr. Evil from the Austin Powers movies was real and finally decided to make good on his promise to blow up our lunar satellite. Nope. It’s just the LCROSS mission implemented by NASA, doing its job exactly. Which prompts a couple of questions:

Which stoned intern is tweeting for The New York Times? And how awesome must that job be, considering the possibilities for fucking with people?

Please Don't Read This, Potential Future Employers

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 21:48:00 -0400

Twenty-one is a weird age. I’m too old to still be traipsing around frat houses, too cool to show up at the bar before 1 AM, too young to be taken seriously by older guys, and too busy to not be dying to blow off steam at the end of the week. Luckily, I live in a house with thirteen other similar people, and at the beginning of the year we made a list of alcohol theme nights. (I am soooo over costume theme parties, obvs, not counting my Lady Gaga Halloween get-up.) Here’s a breakdown of what’s happened so far. It’s also a good case for why I should probably learn to limit myself.

Mojitos, Mo’ Problems- Our first night back at school. I haven’t seen my roommate Nora in many months, and her thick dark hair now falls to the middle of her back. Coming off a summer obsession with the Manson family, I start referring to Nora as “Leslie van Houten” for the rest of the night, as they do now bear some resemblance. When she finds out who that is, she gets upset and insists that I stop. I don’t. Later on, I almost purchase a pitbull at Clancey’s.

Lon Gislands, Lon Gnights- I black out circa 10 pm, then call every boy I’ve liked in the past year a minimum of four times in the middle of the night. I call Lon Gisland native Neel Shah five times. The last time, I tell him I love him.

Gin and Juice (Mind on Money, Money on Mind)- This party takes place on September 12th, the same day 22 years ago that South African apartheid police tortured black consciousness leader Steve Biko to death while Biko was held in detention. I cry for twenty minutes while talking about this, and then force all thirteen of my housemates to listen to “Biko” by Peter Gabriel on repeat until they make me go to bed.

This weekend’s theme is “Welcome to the Jungle Juice.” My best friend Paige is visiting from northern Ohio. I can’t wait to see what happens.

Sage Advice

Wed, 30 Sep 2009 22:37:00 -0400

I’m going on a first date tomorrow. I haven’t been on one of those in a while— at least not the traditional awkward dinner/interview kind, and so I’m kind of nervous. Really nervous, actually. And when I’m nervous, I (as Luda might say) act a fool. That means anything from talking too fast to talking too fast while revealing my whole sordid life story, including the night involving the townie stripper. My roommate Nora knows me better than most people, so I asked her for some advice about how to keep calm around my burgeoning suitor.

“Just be yourself,” she said. “But not too much.”

"Humor is a tumor when it becomes rumor."

Fri, 25 Sep 2009 22:12:00 -0400

“Humor is a tumor when it becomes rumor.”

- Magic Hat bottle cap

Choosing a Halloween costume is the most stressful decision I...

Thu, 24 Sep 2009 01:25:00 -0400

Julia Allison

The Gaga herself

Choosing a Halloween costume is the most stressful decision I make all year. (My life is very serious.) With only a month left, only two contenders are left standing: New York blogger Julia Allison, or electro-pop diva Lady Gaga. To help figure this out, I’ve made a list of pros and cons:

Julia Allison:
Pros- Easy to do, since we have similar hair. Stuffed white toy dog will be cheap, as will the killer puffy fuschia minidress I saw at Forever 21 and now have an excuse to buy.
Con- I live in the Midwest; no one will get it and the townies will just assume I’m a sorority girl and sic a pitbull on me or something similar.

Lady Gaga:
Pro: AWESOME.
Con: Requires buying 20+ plush Kermit the Frogs and then sewing them into a dress. Which obviously I’ll wear again, like, all the time, but that’s still an investment.

Will you help me out, Tumblr?

Groan. I think this joke is officially over for me.

Tue, 22 Sep 2009 08:43:00 -0400

Groan.

I think this joke is officially over for me.

Sing it, L Word.

Sun, 20 Sep 2009 22:25:00 -0400

Mark: When I first met you I was the type of guy who was capable of doing terrible shit, but I am not that guy anymore... You have made me a better man.
Jenny: Oh, fuck off, Mark! It's not my job to make you a better man and I don't give a shit if I've made you a better man. It's not a fucking woman's job to be consumed and invaded and spat out so that some fucking man can evolve.

Sweet Country Roads, Take Me Home

Tue, 15 Sep 2009 11:20:00 -0400

I try to defend this town for all it’s worth. “Just because I live in rural central Ohio doesn’t mean I’m a hick. Just because everyone here talks in a redneck accent doesn’t mean they are rednecks. We’re good and hard-working people, but we’re also sophisticated people, too! We’ve got a lot of culture and liberalism! I don’t fly over here, I fly INTO here!”

And then I end up at Clancey’s Pub between 12:30 and 1 am, and there’s a guy sitting near the bar wearing a Confederate flag t-shirt and selling pitbull puppies, which sleep in a cardboard box by the pool table. “Do you want one?” he asks. “They’re reeeal sweet. It’s all how ya treat ‘em. Won’t bite cha or INNYthing.” And I am reminded exactly where I am.

"Happiness is really about how you feel about yourself and if you’re satisfied with yourself. I..."

Thu, 10 Sep 2009 22:32:00 -0400

““Happiness is really about how you feel about yourself and if you’re satisfied with yourself. I wish everybody happiness, man. And fulfillment in life. You don’t need to play football to have that. At least I don’t think that’s what was going through the creator’s mind when we were created. People in Ohio or Texas probably think that,” he adds. “But….””

- Tom Brady, in this month’s issue of ‘Details.’ Maybe it’s ‘cause I’m from Ohio, but wouldn’t you need to win a few football games to feel satisfied and fulfilled in the first place?

Spooked

Wed, 09 Sep 2009 01:13:55 -0400

Maybe it’s just the turning of the leaves and the bats on my windowsill (baby vampires!). But for some reason, always this time of year, I get very afraid of someone sneaking into my car late at night in the library parking lot, waiting quietly in the backseat, and then doing something terrible once I leave the building, get in, start the car and start driving. Before late night trips back to my house, I always check the backseat and turn on the inside light just in case this time is THE time.

Surely other people have felt this too, right?