When I was young, probably early teens, my dad was the Royal Palm Yearbook Sponsor. He was in charge of the FC kids on the yearbook staff. Every spring break, he would spend a handful of nights sans sleep, bonding with the editors over junk food and quirky last minute articles. Then, yearbook revelation day would come! With fanfare fitting a king, the yearbook would arrive, and cheers and shouts would flood Hutchinson. Little thirteen year old Emma thought that was pretty much the coolest thing in the world. I take that back. little thirteen year old Emma thought that was the second coolest thing. The coolest thing was when my dad trusted ME with my very own key to the yearbook room. It was an old key, and had the remains of a tinker bell sticker on it. That key gave me so much power. So much independence. So much swag. With that key, we ruled campus during the summer: William, Cooper, Elizabeth, Maris, and me. We searched campus high and low to find the secret tunnel. We played every form of billiards and pingpong known to man. We roamed the streets of Temple Terrace. And most importantly, we had our very own clubhouse in the upstairs of the COLLEGE student center, equipped with really cool apple computers, thrift store couches, white boards, chalkboards, yearbooks, and the mysterious Red Room. How could a summer hang out be any better? We read, imagined, played cards, drew, brainstormed, and just straight up did hood rat things.

Needless to say, I have sort of idolized the Royal Palm since middle school. I used to worry about how things would go once I was at FC. What if I tried out for yearbook staff, and I wasn't good enough? What if I didn't make the cut? What if my dad didn't think I was a good enough writer or designer or photographer to be on the staff? That would probably be the end of the world. I would not be a good enough person.

Today, I just kind of thought about all this. About how big a deal yearbook has been in my life. About how I THOUGHT my life was going to turn out. About the little practical jokes God plays on us all.

Today I am excused from classes so that I can scramble to finish proofing the yearbook. I might be working all day on it with the editors. I'm not an editor, I didn't want to be an editor. I actually didn't even really want to be on yearbook this year. I tried out, and then decided it wasn't worth the effort. And then Katie begged me to do it. So, I got roped in. And I have been writing about an article a week. I have actually enjoyed it, and it's kind of cool that there is an Angelo working on the yearbook again. Back in middle school, I thought that I would want to be an editor for yearbook. I thought that my dad would be in charge of it. I thought that it would be a big part of my life. Now, I am spending one day finalizing the yearbook. I'm a mere peon in the eyes of the hardcore yearbookers. And this is exactly how I want it.

It's funny how your life doesn't turn out the way you know it will. What is super important to you at one point may turn out to be peripheral. A book is just a book is just a book. A room is just a room is just a room. But I have a feeling the yearbook room will always be sacred in my mind. It represents childhood. and shenanigans. and imagination. and friends. Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to go spend all day in the yearbook room. I can probably count on one hand the number of times I will be in the YBR before I move to cali. :)

Today I was walking to my car and was struck with an idea. My car is me. Well, not really, my car is Tequila, and she is named after an IHOP waitress I had several years ago. But in many ways, my car is an expression of who I am right now and how I feel right now. My car is relatively average looking. Silver. Covered in pollen. The front bumper has a big gash. or hole. or whatever. But that one is my fault, not Tequila's. Maybe I'll get it fixed someday. But I think it gives her character. One window is broken. I don't really know how it happened. I just heard a noise one day, looked back, and realized the window wouldn't roll up. At least it is a back window and it doesn't matter all that much. Really, the window's motor is broken and it'll be fixed in a week or two, once I come up with the money. So at least there's no broken glass or anything. I have, in the meantime, covered it with a garbage bag and yellow duct tape. Duct tape that andrea stole from tia. in the middle of a thunderstorm. While I was marooned at the business building wondering how to keep the water out of my car. Like I said though, As soon as I get the money it'll be all better. I think that Tequila also needs new brakes. I mean, she'll stop, but when I break really hard, the steering wheel shakes and it is scary. She is always running on empty. Well, not quite empty, but always very low. But she always has enough to get by. Her o2 filter is broken. For those of you who don't know, apparently an o2 filter monitors the oxygen that is going into the engine. I guess it needs replaced or something, because that is what my mechanic said. Maybe she'll run better once that is taken care of. I got my car from my grandma. Actually I bought her from my grandma. With the help of my parents. I wasn't grateful enough for her at the time. I mean, I was grateful, but also felt entitled. Now I see her more as a responsibility, but she is also a huge blessing. And she isn't like the van I used to drive: she is dependable. She never randomly dies on me, even when she's having problems. Lastly, I want to tell you about Tequila's markings. On the UN-broken back window, she has a smiley face drawn in blue faded window paint. And on the back window, there is a "Jesus Fish" and the word "Jesus" written in equally faded blue paint. I am not responsible for these markings. I can take no credit for them. They just magically appeared on my car one day a long time ago and I do not know how they got there. But I appreciate them. Because even when my car is looking her utmost ghetto and pitiful, she still is looking optimistic. When I glance up and see the garbage bag, yellow duct tape, and puncture wound, I also see the fish and smiley face. and I know I'm taken care of.

Sorry. I'm really random. Hope you didnt read all that. Imma go eat some breakfast for dinner now....

We are driving to Georgia. :] I'm excited.

chick-fil-a brownies are yummy.

I hate being sick.