My Ghost

     I was born in 1985, a year for the greats. Not only did the world get to be graced with humble ol' me but it was the year for Dairy Queen Blizzards and more importantly Super Mario Brothers.
     Video games were, I say with adult regret, a big part of my childhood. Super Mario Brothers were at the top of my list. Those two Italian plumbers hold a special place in my heart. Many beautiful summer days were wasted with them, but I especially loved Mario Kart.

     I raced any willing able bodied human who would have me but, as they lost interest it was usually myself versus the computer.
     After my interest would fade with the computer I would go to time trials where I could race a ghost.

     A ghost is a replay of my personal best time, a faded version of my chosen driver who went before me.  The ghost version could push me to try just a little harder and do just a little better to beat my previous score and that's exactly what I strived for.
     In my life I am not a competitive person, if I win great, if I don't maybe next time. I didn't have any skill for athletics or excel in academics. Mostly I was a participant award type of kid. I was content with this. It's good in the sense that I am not a sore loser but it's bad in the sense that I settle for mediocrity.
     For the most part I have taken life as it comes. It is what it is. When it comes to my true nature, I don't strive for more than where I am at. But with my ghost in Mario Kart, I could try just a little bit harder to do better than the time before.


     It's a good feeling; thankfully I have a ghost when it comes to real life as well. Someone who helps me to try just a little bit harder, to give just a little more effort to reach more of my potential.
     My family has helped shape in mold me into the person I am today, but in recent years another lead character in the story of Amber would be Coburn.
     The quote goes, "You are known by the company you keep." I'm happy to say with Coburn I think I am doing very well.


     Coburn is my best friend, a fellow nerd and book enthusiast, but also my partner in crime. He is quite a few years younger than me but I can honestly say he is beyond his years and I admire and look up to him.
     Any task that is set before him, he comes at with enthusiasm and joy, making it look effortless. Unlike a healthy portion of people his age he has a good head on his shoulders and knows how to make good choices, he knows what he wants out of life and he will do all he can to reach the best version of that.
     I have known him for fifteen years and we've been closer for probably the last five, and we can be similar when it comes to most things, but unlike me, Coburn is competitive.
    He loves to compete and tries his hardest. If ever we are in a position where there is time to kill, he will find something to entertain himself like making a house of cards and will not stop until he is satisfied with the results.

     This is what makes him my ghost. He has pushed me, sometimes almost literally, to try a little harder. Always encouraging me to not stay the same but strive for better.
     I am an introvert through and through; I freak out when it comes time for me to be put in the spot light. I would much rather hold it for someone else.
     A few years ago, Coburn and I became co-youth leaders for our church with this came some responsibilities. We would both teach the youth class, (ok I have been teaching the younger kids for years), we would be responsible for the youth at events, (expected, but a little more of a challenge. I have walked away and found some of them on the roof before they are hard to contain), finally we would BOTH have to speak at youth services. (Umm what?!)
     I assumed Coburn would speak, he gets a hold of a microphone and words flow like soft serve ice cream from the machine. It's amazing. I, on the other hand forget how to human.
     So every time it comes time for me to speak I can always count on Coburn to calm me down like a member of the jumper squad talking someone off a ledge.
     It's not that I don't want to do it; it's that I feel like I will mess it up somehow and without fail he is always there for me. My right hand man.


     He is the reason that this blog exists. He convinced me to start it, and even if it doesn't go anywhere I am tremendously happy for an outlet. As he's reading over this, I know he's checking for mistakes to help me as he always does.
     He is also (shameless plug alert) the reason PeculiarPeople46350 our YouTube channel (search us) exists. For years I have made skits for church (subscribe) Coburn suggested we make a channel and so I write the videos and he edit's them. (Seriously Subscribe!)
     I am afraid to put myself out there and any form but I am so thankful for a friend who sees more than what I am comfortable with.
     So this week I just wanted to give a shout out to my best friend, my ghost. Thanks for making me a better version of myself. You matter to me!
LOVE!
Amber

Weird Al Weirdo

    I am a nerd. Not in the I will only respond if you speak to me in elvish kind of way, but I tend to enjoy things that only a select number of people around me do. Nerds.
    It's just who I am. I could say I love Star Wars but I feel that doesn't give it enough justice. I am a big fan of Doctor Who, I am also a big Nintendo fan and I love reading. One of the greatest days of my life is when a friend took me to Barnes and Noble.
    I wear glasses, have allergies, and I'm extremely uncoordinated. I'm such a nerd I'm a stereotype.
     Most teenagers are obsessed with some piece of pop culture. They love their favorite shows, movies, and bands passionately. This is a love that you can't find just anywhere, when they say they love some thing they REALLY love it, for that moment.

     So what was one of my moments? What does a nerdy teenage girl freak out about? Weird Al. You heard right. I was a huge Weird Al fan.

    Weird Al was always around growing up. I can remember my babysitter watching MTV, constantly. (Seriously, she loved it. Is it a requirement to only watch this and talk shows?) In between Guns N' Roses and Salt N' Peppa, we would sometimes get the pleasure of Weird Al's Gangsta Paradise or Fat coming on tv and I was mesmerized. 

     A few years down the road we were taught in our computer class, how to search things on the Internet. (Do kids need to be taught that anymore?) Weird Al was the first thing I searched on the Internet by myself. I wanted to know as much as I could about him.

     Most Girls my age were "fan girling", before it was a thing, over Nsync or Backstreet Boys. Weird Al was my Timberlake. I mean, I wasn't drawing his name in hearts on my school planner but, if he asked to adopt me I would gladly pack a bag.
He was so talented and so...weird. Taking top hit songs, changing the lyrics to something about food usually and adding some accordion. I loved it!

   
    When I was 14, my mom was working at Wal-Mart as a department manager. They had a contest for the stores whoever sold the most of his newest cd's he would stop at their store to have a pizza party and sign autograph's. My mom's store won. So Weird Al would be coming to my town.

    Little did my mom know what she was doing when she, in passing, told me that Weird Al was coming to her store. 

    To say I freaked out would be the perfect definition of an understatement. I literally screamed. I can't think of any other time in my life that I screamed out of excitement. I've screamed out of fear and anger sure, but joy, that was new. I even surprised myself.
    Teenagers experience their emotions at a much higher intensity, and being the first teenager in my family all of us must have been really confused. I know I was confused when the scream came out, but the rest of them just stared blankly in response. I assume thinking, "Something must be wrong she can't be screaming over a middle aged accordion player."
    After my mother realized that I was not in need of medical attention, she informed me that it would be a few weeks away, but I could go with her.


    What a bitter sweet moment this would be for me. I was going to meet Weird Al Yankovic, I assumed that this would have to be the greatest day of my life. How would any other day top that day?
     I had almost every one of his cd's, I sang a long with the lyrics until those around me hated it. Which most of them did already, he's an artist of an acquired taste.
     I didn't expect my peers around me to understand how great this was, but I did expect them to understand how great this was to me. I tried to make it relateable comparing it to their favorite boy band member but they just couldn't see the comparison. I had one fellow nerd freaking out with me in one of my classes but overall, my classmates were unimpressed.
     My spirits, however, would not be dampened. As it grew closer I could barely contain myself. My mom advised me not to get my hopes up that I would probably only get to see him for a moment. But a moment was a lot longer than what I had currently had as far as face to face interaction with Weird Al.


     I day dreamed how it would go. He would see me right away, which could be true since I was more than likely the tallest 14 year old in the store. When my turn came to get my autographed signed he would see that there was something special about me and would only want to sit with me and share a pizza. We would share stories and the secret to his frizz free hair, and then my wit would overcome him and he would ask me to leave school to become his writing partner.

   Finally the day came. The peak of the mountain for me, or so I thought. I arrived at the store with my mom who had no interest and meeting Weird Al and asked if I would mind if she just picked up a few things.
    I found this absurd, of course she was meeting a bonafide celebrity and she was just going to go buy paper towels?!

     I told her it was fine, it would probably be for the better. Now he wouldn't feel obligated to have her join us at his table while we ate pizza.
So I stood in the crowd waiting for him to come in, with my disposable camera (I feel old) and insert from the cd for him to sign. Then the back doors open and in walked Mr. Yankovic, hawaiian shirt and all.

    He was led to the table, and that's when it hit me. I couldn't talk to Weird Al! He's Weird Al! I can't even talk to the boy I like in school, I barely spoke at all! In my excitement I forgot that I was a deeply shy introvert who would rather be punched in the face than even consider asking my teacher a question in class. How would I talk to Weird Al?
    A little bit of an anxiety attack rose up within me. What was I going to do? Just a feet away from me stood one of the greatest people, in my humble nerd opinion at the time, that ever graced this planet and I was terrified to get anywhere near him.
    The line moved tortuously slow, as I considered my options I could run crying to my mommy in the paper products aisle, or I could woman up. 

     Sure, every other social situation in the past has ended awkwardly but maybe this time it would be different. I had to find out either way.
   My turn came, I walked up to the table to Mr. Weird Albert Yankovic himself and he smiled.

Al: Hello

Amber: (too quickly) Hi

...

Al: (says something to me that I can't coherently make out over the blood pulsing in my ears)

Amber: (laughs)

(What if he asked something like "How are you?" and I am just nervously standing there laughing at him)

....

Al: Do you want me to sign that for you?

Amber: Oh yeah, yeah yeah

     He signs my cd insert on the side with the titles of his songs instead of his picture as I had hoped but only because I handed it to him this way since I was being a creep and staring at him. I thanked him and sat at a table staring at him replaying the conversation over in my mind and eating pizza.
     My chance to meet the man who made hits like Gump, Like a Surgeon, and The Saga Begins and I probably creeped him out. Do I Creep You Out is also another song by Weird Al from a few years down the road. I hope there is no collation.

Reasons Why Weird Al probably thought I was Weird:

1) I knew I wouldn't be able to take pictures once I met him, so I just took them from behind people in line.

2) I'm pretty sure I spent the whole time staring at him.
3) I meet the man and he tries to make conversation with me even though I probably looked like I had a bomb wired to my chest, and I just laugh. I laughed... like only a creep would do.
4) After the interaction is over I silently stare at him and eat my pizza. Life tip: never stare at people while you are eating food. It's very unsettling.

     I hope that our Wal Mart was the last stop for him, I don't think I would sleep well after our encounter.

     The pictures above are real, and I've misplaced the autograph or I'd share that too. 

     While I still have a fondness for the Polka Master, the intensity has cooled with what little maturity I have allowed to seep in. Unfortunately, the social awkwardness is still very much present.

-Amber 

The Shirtless Axe Murderer

    Sometimes we come to a place in our life that we know; we are here for a purpose. There is something happening here that will be important at some time in my life. Maybe I don't see at the time but I know that one day it would all be clear.
    I feel this way about a job I use to have. I was the midnight night auditor for a hotel. A job with people I loved but as any of you who have worked the midnight shift can attest, it brings out some unusual clientele. I had some crazy stuff happened while I worked there, and I would tell my manager about it and she would always say. "Why does this only happen with you?"
    I wondered this myself but I now know it was for my love of stories and God was providing me with material.

     So on one particular night it was quiet. I had maybe one check-in all night long so I did what I did every slow night back then and turned my mind off completely in front of Netflix when the guest phone rang.
    The guest phone where customers would usual ask for amenities to be delivered or directions to the nearest restaurant, or to make conversation because I was the only person in the whole place awake but this phone call was not one of those usual phone calls.

Amber: Front desk.

Lady Guest: (panicked) Umm Hello, I think someone is trying to break into my room.

This is followed by a loud banging on the door that I can hear through the phone

Amber:...

Lady Guest: It's a shirtless man, banging on my door! What should I do, I'm not sure where my husband is, and I have my children in here with me?!

So you call the front desk?! Call the police lady!!

Amber: I'll call the police right away.

    So I grab the phone for the outside line and ran into the closet declaring to God and myself that I would not leave until the cop slid his badge under the door.
    As I waited, my heart pounding through my chest, fear of a potential murder taking place just feet away from me, I begin to let my imagination run wild. Who was down that hallway? Why was he shirtless? Was this his m.o.?He was just some half naked axe wielding homicidal maniac breaking into hotels to prey upon families on vacation.
    I heard the phone ring again? What if that was him? What if he had broken into the room and he was coming for me next?
    I reminded myself that I was the one in charge and would have to stop crying in the closet and bravely answer the phone, shirtless axe murderer or not.

Amber: ... Hello?

Lady Guest: Never mind, it was my husband he sleep walks every now and again and most have locked himself out. (Laughs) Isn't that funny?

Amber: mmm-hmm well I'm going to call the cops now and tell them not to come.

    Are you kidding me?! I was literally shaking like a chihuahua because she misplaced her sleep walking husband?! Why would that not be her first assumption?!
     I tried to play this out in my head after I called the police with much embarrassment to call off the potential S.W.A.T. team mere minutes from my hotel, what was going through her mind.

*bang bang bang*

Lady Guest- Oh My! What was that? Where is my husband?

*bang bang bang*

Lady Guest- Ok Myself, my kids, everyone is accounted for, except my husband of several years. I'll just get a quick peak.

*sees shirtless husband through peep hole, who must be wearing some kind of mask he picked up while sleep walking to explain why she can't recognize the man who she had married and had children with.*

Lady Guest- So, there is a crazy man outside my door , built like my husband who often sleep walks and is unaccounted for from my previous census. My children and I are in potential danger, from the knocking shirtless axe murderer with the luchador mask (author's note: It's my blog and I am allowed to speculate.) standing on the other side of the door. I must take action, and there is only one person for the job. The front desk lady! She who provides me with extra towels, pillows, and those little bottles of shampoo, she will protect me and my helpless children. Don't worry children! *picks up the phone* our answer is on the way!

    I can't be too upset though, I was up front assuming things on my own. The lady guest and I were both convinced we were not going to make it out alive.
    I spent the rest of the night trying to calm down and was sure to thank God, for sparing innocent lives from imaginary harm that day.
-Amber