Tik Tok on the Clock ~ Please Stop

6:30 a.m. ~ My phone vibrates under my pillow. I jar awake and groan. Tuesday. Bleck. I grab whatever clothes don't smell too bad and hit the shower.

I know some girls are fashionistas and it takes them two hours to get ready for their glamorous day- me, it takes 30 minutes from the time I climb out of bed to the time I pile into my car. I know someday I will regret looking like something that just out from under a rock, like the day I turn 40 and I am still single. But for right now, I don't own enough awesome clothes and make-up to look pretty, so I just wear whatever is lying on my bedroom floor.

7:15 a.m. ~ Starbucks. It's almost scary that the barista knows my order. Grande Peppermint Mocha, nonfat, with whip. I love my drink. I have it every day. The Grande part is so that I am not pigging out on the Venti size, but enough to fill me up with warm coffee, chocolatey goodness. The peppermint part counteracts any bad breathe the coffee part will inflict. And the mocha part - duh, I am a girl, I need my chocolate. The nonfat part is so that I can have the whip cream part. My day starts out with balance.

7:17 a.m.~ Driving to school, radio blasting. This is seriously the best part of my day. I have all of my homework ready, my phone isn't ringing. It's just me, my car, and the music. Tik Tok ALWAYS, and I do mean ALWAYS comes on the radio. I don't know how I feel about this song. I think it's one of those things that by the time the chorus kicks in, you just have to be car dancing. The lyrics are lame, I mean it's about a party. That's it. A party. No love story, no deep, emotional pull for you to find yourself. Just brushing your teeth with alcohol...which I am sure can only lead to cavities.

7:30 a.m. ~ Get to school. Run to the library. Check e-mails. Delete the junk. Answer the e-mails from the boss. Check facebook. Roll eyes at all the relationship changes/babies born/sleepless ramblings from all of my 300+ friends. Yes, I get it, you have a life. I don't.

8:00 a.m. ~ Go to class. I have a confession to make. It's hard for me to pay attention in class. I have eye sight issues, so half the time I can't see what the teacher is pointing to on the board, I can't read the equations and when the teacher just teaches by talking I can't follow what they are saying. I am a visually-impaired visual learner. Don't cry for me, just know that if you want me to learn, hand me a book. I love to read. The book is close to my face, the words make sense and learning occurs.

12:35 p.m. Lunch. Lately, I haven't been able to eat until dinner. I have no idea why I am not hungry. Besides my heavenly peppermint mocha, my first meal is dinner. I know it's unhealthy. Note, I am not trying to lose weight or be a weirdo, I simply am not hungry til about 3 p.m. So I head to the library and work on tax accounting/article writing/facebooking/music videoing/job hunting. This is such an awkward part of my day. I don't have enough time to jump into a large assignment because I have to leave soon to babysit. However, it's too large of a chunk of time to waste. So I listen to music and prattle around on the miscellaneous agenda.

Oh and I hum. I can't help it. In the library, you are supposed to be absolutely silent. But I hate silence, so I hum. It's usually a melodyless tune, one with no rhythm or climax. I probably annoy others around me. In fact, I know I do. But they sometimes annoy me with their glares and pointy looks. So I figure we are even. Sorry fellow studier- I mean no harm-I just need my humming. Kinda how a kid needs to suck their thumb.

2:50 p.m. ~ Chaperoning. I don't really babysit because the kids really don't need to be watched. This is awkward because when I tell people I chaperone, I think they think of me with a fancy sailor hat sitting in front in a suit saying "Where to, miss?" If I say babysitting, the kids grimace because they are "all grown up."

They do however need someone with a driver's license and that's where I come in. I pick four girls up from two school, drive them to their houses, watch Full House for an hour while they change into their ballet clothes and eat a snack, and then make the drive into Canyon Country. Not very exciting, but it gives me $100 per week for spending money.

My job does allow me to view the world of junior highers. They are full of "OMG!! He totally sat next to me in history today. He was like, 'are you going to text me?' and I was like 'uh no, I don't want to' and he was like ' well then I will just wait until you do' and I was like ' that is sooo sweet!!' I totally hope he asks me out!" If you think that was just an exaggerated teen conversation, let me assure you I heard it come from the three giggling girls in my back seat. Every day I thank the Lord Almighty that I am no longer in junior high.

5:30 p.m. ~ The girls are safe at ballet and my eyelids are getting heavy. I haven't eaten and I am getting hungry. I drive back to school, eat dinner in about 10 minutes and head back to the library. I will then stay in the library until midnight doing research, writing, figuring out the 8 billion tax exemptions that the government uses to keep people like me from ever becoming a tax professional.

I do on occasion sneak in a couple of youtubes, hulus, groovesharks and googletalks. My friends definitely help me get through the day.

Midnight~ Drive back home. Tik Tok comes back on the radio. I groan...until "TIK TOK ON THE CLOCK, DON'T STOP...." comes on and I have to sing along at the top of my lungs. The end to my day is very similar to the start of my day. This is my circle of life.

Verbitizing Facebook/Twitter

What they should actually be teaching in school - how to write a facebook/twitter status, how to text with 100% accuracy under your desk where your teacher can't see your frivolous actions, how to google words you don't know how to spell- like Onomatopoeia (man, I LOVE that word!). These are the big concerns of the student body.

I think we need to add classes like "Facebook 122 - How to create a fan page" or "Twitter 204- How much is too much when it comes to tweets." "Youtube 422, how to find the funniest hamster dance video."

Another thing, I have no idea how to "verbize" what I am doing on Facebook/Twitter. Am I tweeting, twittering, updating twitter, twitterpating (bambi reference) , twixing...WHAT AM I DOING?!?!

Facebook, once just a noun, "Hey, look! I am on Facebook!" Has now become a verb of some sort "I am Facebooking!!" Really, am I "Facebooking"? Does that mean I am in the act of performing daily time-wasting functions on a social site that sucks the life out of billions of people world-wide? Is Facebooking really the only word that we could come up with as a society to describe what we do with every second of our free time? Did I just "facebooked?", or did you just get "facebooked?" Where are the grammar rules for my social networking lifestyle?

You know that famous excuse used by students, "I'll never use this in real life!!" Boy was I wrong when I said that about most of my assignments. "Alegebra, psssshhh, no one uses that anymore!!!" Or... "Computer science, dude that's just a fad, just wait five years!" If we added facebook/twitter/youtube class, students wouldn't have these excusees anymore, and I would get to learn how to verbitize all of my social networking activities.

First car love: Hatred and Duct tape

My first car holds that "man's best friend" position in my heart. My little 2003 Ford Focus has been through a lot. It taught me how to drive, how to get my license, how to taxi kids back and forth, how to drive on long, windy roads and scream at my steering wheel. It gives me the freedom to go where I want, when I want.

However, as much as I love and adore my car, I hate and abhor this beast and gas guzzler. My car is a tiny sedan and should easily get 25 miles to the gallon, but I am lucky to get 18 mpg on a good day, driving with the wind propelling me and going downhill. This thing lurches forward for no reason as it tries to shift down. It can go 60 mph in about two minutes, and don't let the spoiler on the back fool you. I couldn't win a race against a motor scooter with my hunk of metal.

I have replaced the driver side mirror mechanics, the rear axil, the brakes/tires, motor mount, transmission, brake routers. This thing is a tempermental piece of machinery, and I love it regardless of it's quirks and downfalls. It's been there for me when I needed a drive to relief the pressures of school, friends and life.

To my first car, may you eventually die when I have enough money to get a much nicer car. Until then, please hold still so I can duct tape you some more. (Yes, I have duct taped my car before.)

Please don't compliment the Interns, they might get excited

It's true, I am a sucker for compliments and affirmation. You tell me that "Hey, I like your outfit today," and I will smile for the rest of the day. Being a student means that most of my work will go completely unnoticed. I have interned at three different places over the last year and a half, and most of my work could have been done by any one with half a brain. I get it. I am not doing the work of champions. Don't get me wrong, I am not trying to demean the places I have worked (in fact I probably wouldn't be able to get a job after college if it wasn't for them), but it's a fact of life-interns do the work of slaves.

I don't mind it really. I mean, everyone has to start somewhere. Starting at the bottom allows for plenty of growth and learning experiences. It also cultures a certain amount of respect for those who have developed their careers and expertise.

But compliments. Man, if you tell me that you liked how I put that sentence together, or that you thought my idea was a good one.....cloud 9, baby. This phenomenon does have it's disadvantages. I am constantly trying to look for opportunities to be noticed and appreciated. While that in and of itself is not bad, I can feel rather prideful or worst, hurt, when my work isn't set apart or considered the best.

The other day, I was working and was given an opportunity to do some work for editors at a newspaper. It wasn't some big job, just making phone calls and inputing data. I jumped on that chance so fast it would make your head spin. The jobs are rather menial and not very glamorous, but to me, editors asking me if I would do the job was them trusting in my abilities. I interpreted it as a compliment. They were just dumping work on an intern, but I saw it as a glorious bequeathing of a honorable responsibility. "Yes your Majesty, I would be honored to do this task, thank you, I shalt not let you down."

So next time you see me, sure give me a compliment. Just don't be surprised if I float off to the clouds to lovingly add to my beautiful collection of assorted compliments.

I'm sorry I say I'm sorry

Hello, my name is Emily Philpot, and I say I'm sorry.

It happened, we were in second grade. My bestest childhood friend confronted me on the playground. "You say 'I'm sorry' too much!" It's true. If I walk towards someone, and we do that awkward side-shuffle/fake-out football move....I say I'm sorry. If your day has been going badly, even though none of it was because of me....I say I'm sorry. If you are mad, I say I am sorry. If you sneeze....I say I'm sorry. If I squeeze by you while you talk to that other person, oblivious to the rest of the world who is trying to move on with their lives while you spread out in the middle of the hall, yes....I say I'm sorry.

Can I blame my parents for instilling a humble and meek spirit into my life? Okay, maybe I do say it in excess, and I admit that at times it can be annoying. But truthfully, I don't think people say it enough, and I am just making up for that.

Think of those annoying messages that you get when you call customer service. "Thank you for calling our service department. We only have one employee and he is on coffee break. Thank you for being patient with us. Your call is important to us, so please keep holding. We are so very sorry for the inconvenience. We apologize for the wait. We are sure it won't be much longer, Starbucks is right around the corner and he is usually pretty quick about getting coffee."

To me, that's the part that is ingenuine. That reeks of un-sorryiness. (Yes, I know those aren't words-but they works, so deal.....I'm sorry) They really aren't sorry that they are making you wait, they just say that to check off their "politeness" box of the day. "Yes mom, I was polite today, I had 145 customers hear 'We are sorry for the wait.'"

But even with all the fake politeness, people still attack me for apologizing for real stuff. "You are sorry my day is going badly?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! WHYYYYYY?!?!?!?!?! You didn't do anything, you scum!!!!! It's not your fault!!!!! So just SHUT UP!!! I don't want to hear it!!!!"

"What?!?!?!?!?! You say you are sorry for squeezing by me and my boyfriend as we make-out right here in a public place? WHYYYYYYY?!?!?!?!?! It's not your fault we love each other!!!!!!!! STOP SAYING 'I'M SORRY!!!' It's so annoying to hear a polite person!!!!! Go AWAY!!!!"

You may think i exaggerate with these reactions, but trust me. I have been chewed out countless times by people insisting that I should not say a polite "I'm sorry" in passing.

So to the world, I will say it one more time. I'm sorry for saying I'm sorry.

If you give your mom a robe

If you give your mom a robe….make sure you keep the receipt.

She will want to try it on to see if it looks good, even though technically no one will see her in it. She will hate the color, even though the color she actually wants does not exist. She will bend over to see if the hem is straight, which bending over will ensure that the hem will in fact NOT be straight and there will be much ado about quality.

She will twist around to see all angles of the fluffy, green robe that you searched high-and-low for. Nevermind the fact that you found the very last one being sold on earth and it was even on clearance and you found three matching nightgowns that were also on clearance. Your money that you earned babysitting screaming kids is irrelevant if you give your mom a robe.

She will ask your opinion on how she looks. Granted, she has tried on the robe over her big sweatshirt and jeans. She looks like a fluffy, over-stuffed Eskimo, but you don't want to return the robe that you searched 10 stores for, so you say it looks comfy. She won't believe you.

She will ask dad how it looks, and you will look at him and give him the pleading puppy face. He will chuckle and say, "I love you in anything." She decides to keep the robe.

The next day, you will be woken up by your dad and instructed to return the robe. If you give your mom a robe, make sure it's purple and slimming and the hem is straight and it looks good at every angle and it can be worn inside out and still look good.

If you give your mom a robe, make sure you keep the receipt.

The Entry-level Curse: You are Scum

Unexperienced. It's the cuss word for all recent graduates. If you are like me, you are hitting the job boards with vigor and polished resumes that shine with potential. Here I am a graduating senior with my shiny business degree, and I have to go through "the cycle" again.

By "the cycle," I refer to the circle that every person has had to face since their first day of preschool. It starts at the bottom as a lowly "entry" level preschool postion. From preschool, you get to graduate into the "big kids" school-elementary level education. Each year, you become a bigger and more "grown-up" mature young person. The first graders now look at you in awe as you stand in your sixth grade line at recess.

THEN it happens. You are moved to junior high. You are now a pip-squeak beneath all of the eighth graders and ::shivers::: high schoolers. No fears, you end up a senior in high school and you are on the top of your game. You are the role model for every scared little freshman that cowers in your very presence. Life is awesome, and you rule the school. However, that nasty graduation thing happens and :::Boom::: you have been lowered to that pathetic freshman-level status once again. You suck, you don't know who the cool teachers are, you don't know where the computer lab is. You are just a little lost puppy. But hey, senior year comes and once again you can scholarly recommend teachers, textbooks, courses and clubs to all of those visiting high school seniors and feel so very awesome in all of your glory and knowledge. :::Boom::: Graduation.

Now you get to look for an entry-level job. Forget all of those awesome Manager/Senior executive/VP/ Director positions. Psssshhh you are scum. You don't deserve those lofty positions. You get to be an assistant, or if you are lucky… a "coordinator" (whatever that actually means). You will file papers that will probably never need to be looked at again, you get to organize databases of people who have already changed their addresses/names/phone numbers/identities and the data you just entered is already outdated and completely pointless but you do get to demonstrate your deep knowledge of copy/paste functions. This is why you went through 20+ years of education and internships for: to grovel at company doorsteps waiting for a job crumble to be tossed your way. Because entry-level jobs are just that awesome and worth the wait.

Entry-level jobs. You go on that careerbuilder/monster/craigslist/juju Web site and search for that job that just SCREAMS "YOU!!!!" You see "We are searching for an energetic, enthusiastic, excited, ecstatic, enthused individual who is passionate about [insert industry here coffee/wine/sales/computers/ puppies/sewer systems/ phone lines/fax machines/ screaming children] The ideal candidate must know the ins-and-outs of every operating system ever invented (of course with this they use a whole bunch of acrynoms that they probably looked up on the internet to make them look more tech-savvy), must speak fluent Chinese/Spanish/English/German, must know how to use every photo-editing software ever invented, must be very, very organized and can clean-up after any other messy, higher-up employees, have immaculate writing skills (and here is where the company recruiter misspells one of the words or puts in an extra comma and you roll your eyes at their inadequacies) and you must have at least five years of experience (yes you must have experience even though this is an entry-level position, we want knowledge and wisdom, people!!!) working under great bosses who have taught you how to run the company and you were their best employee and you are willing to work for $12 an hour even though you have student loans to pay off."

Perfect!!! This job is sooooo you!!!! You even call a friend about how excited you are about how perfect of a job you found.

The ad will then go on to use adjectives and words that you [or any other normal human being] have never even heard of. "We are looking for someone who can perform organizational, optimizational, functionary performances on the systemoptics of the central components of front-runner, cutting-edge capabilities for our various itemized processes and productions." Huh? You then question your degree and everything that your teachers/parents/friends/church/ books ever taught you. Are you dumb? Why haven't you ever heard of these duties in all of your education? You must be a failure. You should probably just go work at Burger King now because you don't even know what "systemoptics" is. Silly you for even considering getting a job that wants you to perform "optimizational functionary performances."

You decide to apply anyways. I mean, the worst they can say is "no," right? So you write a perfect cover letter boasting of all of your accomplishments and feats that you have ever done since second grade when your teacher proclaimed that "you have potential!" You include every experience you can think of. "Oh you want me to have experience in the wine public relations arena? Well, I happen to have a friend whose dad drinks wine. I have even seen him drink both white and red wine. I am very qualified for this position and am available for interviews anytime. Seriously. Call me right now if you want to, I will pick up the phone. I will even answer my phone after midnight if it means getting this job. I will buy you a puppy if you hire me."

Two weeks goes by and no calls, no e-mails. No one cares about you or your pathetic degree in Business Administration. You start to apply for even the jobs that you didn't really want but at least are something to get you by. Still, nothing. Job searching turns into a psychological war field of desires and emotions. You cry yourself to sleep because no one loves you. THEN the phone rings. Interview? YES, of course you are available!!! You can meet them any time, any place. Yes, you will buy them coffee.

You then receive an inspirational talk about pyramid schemes and "no pressure sales calls." This product [cars/insurance/cleaning supplies/body parts/onion rings/jump ropes] practically sells itself. A baby could sell this, so we think you are PERFECT for this job. You only need to contribute $30 to invest in your future and your training for a great career. You have the potential (see your second grade teacher was RIGHT!!!) to make $1 million dollars in your very first year!!!!!! Just think what you could do with that money!!!!! Now go bug all of your friends and tell them about this amazing product and how it can change their lives forever. Trust us, we wouldn't lie to you to make a profit.

Job searching. It's the curse on humanity. Enjoy the hunt. J