Emily Volman » welcome http://emilyvolman.com The Official Website for Emily Volman...as if there are unofficial ones Mon, 30 Jan 2012 22:04:15 +0000 en hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.3.1 My First Blog http://emilyvolman.com/blog/my-first-blog/ http://emilyvolman.com/blog/my-first-blog/#comments Mon, 26 Oct 2009 19:28:23 +0000 Emily http://209.62.36.18/~emilyvol/?p=359 I remember my first Barbie. She was butt ugly when I burned her hair off. I remember my first piercing. It hurt, just like my mom warned. I remember my first pair of Guess jeans. They were attained years after they were cool. I remember my first kiss. It was in Germany and he was Irish. Like, from Ireland. (Although I also remember him looking like Colin Farrell…so that one might be slightly foggy.) And I remember my first trampoline. I was 30.

All in all, I’ve had a lot of firsts. Some in a timely fashion, some not.
And this is My First Blog.

Now, I’m going to watch Star Wars. Don’t tell me what happens!

]]> http://emilyvolman.com/blog/my-first-blog/feed/ 1 Welcome to my stories…or: The Backstory on the stories http://emilyvolman.com/stories/wondering-if/ http://emilyvolman.com/stories/wondering-if/#comments Mon, 19 Oct 2009 23:29:12 +0000 Emily http://209.62.36.18/~emilyvol/?p=294 Preface
Like 86.7% of America 1, I sometimes want to be wealthy, famous and adored-by-all. I only tell you this right off the bat so you can immediately feel better about yourself for wanting the same OR think you’re better than me for not caring in the least of such triviality.

We’ve all seen what being wealthy, famous and adored-by-all gets you. Sometimes it’s first-class service, sometimes it’s annoying and sometimes it makes you feel lower than the most anonymous person in the world. Since I have been on the peripheral of all those, my stories contain wealthy, famous and adored people, as well as those of which you’ve never heard. But, mainly, my stories are probably just like the stories you’d write about your own life. And, just as in your life, you’ve been scared, embarrassed, aroused, saddened, thrilled, angered, maybe vomitous and definitely bored.

I have always thought of myself as nauseatingly normal, yet in every instance where I have tried to be like everyone else, my choices/thoughts/life have veered me against the “should.” Several years ago, I began to compile my stories for a memoir I was going to entitle “Just Another Memoir; Stories of a Girl Who Looks Like Someone You Know.” But I am a fatalist, and I know there is no way anyone would care about publishing this shit. So I’m putting them on my website…for lurkers who hang out at libraries for the free internet. ENJOY!

**For best results:
I use footnotes alot….as you can see below.
I refer to my husband, Mark, in many of my stories, but he wanted to be known as “Rodolfo.” Don’t ask me why. However, that’s too long to type every time, so I will call him “Rod.” Although I want you to know, I would’ve never married someone named “Rod.” But if your name is Rod, please don’t be insulted as I’m sure you’re VERY nice and handsome.
All stories are self-contained and are not listed chronologically or purposefully. Read none, read ‘em all. I won’t know the difference.

  1. I have no evidence of this, but the number came to me in the shower…and it sounded about right. Upon further research, like asking other people, I am still certain of this number. ↩
]]> http://emilyvolman.com/stories/wondering-if/feed/ 0