Monday, October 29, 2012

{Ember and Coal}

I really should stop doing this, Ember thought with a sigh as she jogged through the Servant Village. It’s irresponsible, unnecessary, not even exciting… She snorted. Everyone probably thinks I’m with Coal. I’m not helping my reputation… She waved absently to a passing sparker. As long as I don’t fall asleep again, I should be alright.

When she reached the place where she’d been the day before, she stopped and sat down. It was midday and the Jeolotian sun was hot and red. It wavered down in beams that seemed almost visible. She collapsed onto her back and shut her eyes. She wanted to dance. Actually, she wished she wanted to dance. She didn’t. She just wanted to lie there until someone came to get her.

“I’m happy,” she told herself, but the words came out defensively, almost accusingly. “I have everything I’ve ever wanted. I am a kachina. I am the best kachina. I have sparktresslings and friends and Coal. I live in the Palace. I eat the best food, and wear the best clothes. The other servants are jealous of my position.”

However, when she said those things out loud, the words did not have the desired effect. Instead of reassuring herself of her own contentment, she only realized how arrogant she sounded.

“I’m not happy.” Those words tasted different. They were sharper, like salt instead of sugar, but somehow they tasted better. “I am not happy. I am proud.”

“I doubt you’ll find a fairy who disagrees with that.”

Ember leapt in her skin, her heart nearly flying off the tip of her tongue as her eyes flew open. The bright sun seared her vision and she squinted before making out Coal standing over her, his eyes smiling. Ember sighed and covered her eyes with a her hand.

“You walk too quietly,” she said.

“You walk too far.” Coal sat beside of her and took her hand, pulling her up to a sitting position. “Is something wrong?” His blue eyes were kind and true, searching. Ember pulled her knees in to her chest and held them with her arms.

“No,” she said plainly. “At least…no.”

“Are you happy?”

“You heard me. Don’t pretend.” Coal shrugged, letting that stand. He thoughtfully traced patterns in the dusty dirt between them, swirls and angles and dots and runes. Ember watched his strong, graceful finger and wondered at how he could be so complete in himself. She had been that way too, not long ago, but it felt like more of her real self was fading every day. The brutal battle she fought to retain herself made her irritable.

“Why are you unhappy?”

She loved his voice. Sometimes it made her blush, if she thought about it very much. It was deep and smooth and boyish all at once. It was competent and sarcastic and light. It was everything Coal was himself, expressed in the tones that issued from his mouth. In the midst of analyzing, Ember almost forgot to respond.

“I don’t know,” she said. “which only makes it worse.”

“Are you unhappy, or discontent, or restless?” Coal eyed his intricate dirt design for a moment before dragging his hand across it, blotting it out. Ember almost reached to stop him.

“All three. I’m unhappy because I’m restless, which comes from being discontent.”

“Perhaps you’re no longer being challenged as a kachina,” he suggested, beginning a new pattern in the dust. “You often speak of how talented you are. Doesn’t that get a bit…dull?”

Ember considered that, making a swooping addition to Coal’s artwork. He nodded thoughtfully at it, pleased. A smile tugged at Ember’s lips. He was such a little sparker sometimes. “No,” she answered after a long silence. “Being a kachina is never dull. I love dancing in a way…in a way that I don’t love anything else. And the Fire Lord is different every day, in his own ways. For instance, he seems more alert lately, more likely to be displeased. Sometimes he’ll be distant for weeks, and sometimes he’s happy.” Coal’s mouth tilted at the corners, which made Ember tilt her head. “What?”

“I know how he is,” Coal said, looking at her with laughing eyes. “I want to talk about how you are.”

“Well, the two are very closely related,” Ember said. “If the Fire Lord isn’t happy, then he isn’t happy with his kachinas and then we’ve got to be careful.” Her eyes lit up suddenly. “Did you know some kachinas in training came to us after training and warned us?”

Coal frowned in confused amusement. “Of what?”

“Of being challenged.” Ember’s lips parted, revealing small, straight teeth. “They want to replace us as kachinas.”

Coal shrugged, looking ever-sarcastic. “It’s what they are there for.” Ember nodded and leaned back onto her elbows. “Just as I’m here for you.”

She looked at Coal then, eyes a bit wider than they had been before. He met her eyes easily, almost laughing. “What a thing to say,” Ember said, looking back at the distant horizon. “Do you really mean that?”

Coal’s mouth twitched. “I’m a spy,” he said. “Do you think I say things I don’t mean?”

She glanced back at him, a tiny wrinkle wedged above her nose, which made Coal laugh out loud. A small laugh bubbled up inside of her, but she closed her mouth on it and settled for raising her eyebrows at him. He grinned and in a quick motion pushed her elbows out from under her, supporting her back as she fell into the sparse grass. He shifted and stretched out beside her, one hand behind his head, the other under Ember’s shoulders.

“Don’t be unhappy,” he said simply. Ember stole a sideways glance at him, feeling his arm underneath her like a row of glowing embers. He was gazing up into the open sky, looking for all the world like he’d orchestrated the day himself. He always looked that way: content and controlled, as if the world could crumble around him and he knew he’d be able to stop it.

Maybe that’s why I like him so much, Ember thought, studying his face. Sometimes my life feels so fragile. It’s nice to know of someone who could hold it together—or at least someone who thinks he could. She relaxed her head and closed her eyes. “What are you afraid of, most afraid of? What’s your biggest fear?”

Coal’s brow contracted thoughtfully. “What am I afraid of…” he murmured.

Ember sighed edgily. “Don’t say you don’t have a fear, Coal Blazings. I won’t believe that.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said plainly. “It’s more a matter of choosing between so many.” They lay there in silence for a long moment before Coal said, “Being wrong.”

Ember’s eyes opened and composed themselves immediately into a surprised frown. “That’s your biggest fear?”

“Is that such a strange fear?”

“It’s a strange biggest fear. You don’t have much experience with it besides,” she added grudgingly. “Not on any sort of large scale, that is. It’s your job not to be wrong. If you were very often…”

“Which might potentially add to the magnitude of the fear, don’t you think?”

Ember made a thoughtful sound and shifted, reaching under her back and repositioning Coal’s arm.

“Your turn,” Coal said.

“What’s my biggest fear?”

Coal nodded, still intently watching the sky.

“I don’t know,” Ember mumbled thoughtfully. A million possibilities came to mind. Death…being out of control…losing one of the kachinas…losing Coal…not being able to dance.

“You told me I wasn’t allowed to say that,” Coal said, in a good-naturedly accusing voice. “Come on. Think of something.”

“Either…losing someone I love, or not being able to dance.”

“Am I someone you love?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me about the dancing fear?”

Coal sighed. “No. I understand that, I think.”

“Do you.” It wasn’t a question, just a slightly disappointed statement.

“I think so. Tell me if I do: you love dancing in a deep, breathtakingly beautiful way, like it’s tied into your soul. When you dance, you feel whole and alive and you can forget everything that’s wrong with your life. You might be afraid of pain or loneliness or betrayal—” Here Ember realized with sharp surprise that she was afraid of those things, although they hadn’t occurred to her before. “—but you know that as long as you can dance, you can breathe and live and cope. As long as you can dance, you can survive anything and everything else.” He paused. “Now; do I understand?”

He did. “May I have a turn?” Coal smirked, but not unpleasantly. “I will take that as a yes. Alright. Your turn.”

“You are afraid of being wrong…” Ember closed her eyes and breathed, trying to reach into Coal the way he could reach into other people. “because your entire façade is centered around the fact that you never seem to be so. To be a spy is to be right, to be right when it’s impossibly hard, and you love being a spy. You love the excitement and the challenge and the prestige. Because you love it so much, you’ve let it become a part of your soul, even apart from spying. Being right is no longer simply your job, it’s something that defines you.”

Coal was smiling, which was impossible to interpret. Either he was proud of her for uncovering his feelings, or he was proud of himself for masking them. He opened his mouth, but Ember wasn’t finished.

“But then, there’s the impractical, uncontrollable aspect of being wrong. You like to plan things, Coal. You like to be in control. Suppose you made a plan one day and found out you had misinformation? Suppose you were sure of something that turned out not to be true? The plan would not work, which I believe would genuinely frighten you.”

“Ember,” Coal began, frowning. “As a spy, I’ve been trained to deal with the unthinkable, the unexpected and impossible. Nothing ever goes quite according to plan when spying. It’s part of the reason why great spies such a rare breed, and I am a great spy.”

Ember rolled her head to the side, looking at him with smirking blue eyes. “I wasn’t talking about when spying, Coal.”

His frown deepened. “That doesn’t matter,” he said. “Spy training prepares us for the unexpected in all aspects of life, not only our jobs.”

“Some things are impossible to prepare for.”

“That’s not true.” Coal’s voice was perfectly even, almost gentle. “You have only to be observant. You must listen and think and be constantly on your guard.”

“Are you on your guard now?” Ember rolled towards him, feeling his arm under her spine until she was pressing into him. She supported herself on an elbow, her free hand firmly planted on his chest, eyes gleaming.

“Around you, Ember?” Coal said, his eyes a dark, intense blue. “Always.” He pushed himself up with his hands and their lips met.

{Except from NaNoWriMo novel, 2011}

~Stephanie

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

I Am Not An Outsider Part 1

:)

A week ago today, I was doing terribly. I was furious at the world. I was furious at God, my parents, my friends, and anyone else who I felt had a hand in my being at Campbell and away from what I loved. I couldn't make myself study. I couldn't make myself smile. I couldn't make myself talk to people. I was deeply miserable.

Right now, I'm extremely swamped in school work. I didn't realize that November--and therefore several large projects--was coming up so fast. Good grief. It feels like it ought to still be August, but in reality, September is completely gone and October is quickly ending. My first semetser of college is more than halfway over. What?

But in the midst of school stress, I found some friends this weekend, when I wasn't even trying.

Friday night, Kirsten {one of my best friends from high school} came over and we painted nails while watching 17 Again. A guy from NCSL club named Kendric texted me asking to hang out. I didn't really care to, but Kirsten seemed encouraged by the invitation, so I figured it couldn't hurt to be social for a while.

The two of us went over to Kendric's hall lobby and talked for a few minutes. {He and Kirsten really hit it off. I think he might LIKE her. The feeling is not mutual.} After a few minutes he said he wanted to watch a movie, but he didn't have any.

"We have 17 Again," I said, laughing a little.

"Um..." He didn't seem really sold on that.

"I don't have a lot of movies here," I told him. "It's pretty much either 17 Again or Fight Club, and--"

"Fight Club?" Kendric perked up.  "You have Fight Club?"

That spread through the lobby and residence hall like fire.

"Fight Club?"

"She has Fight Club?"

"We're watching Fight Club?"

So I went and got the movie. Pretty soon there were like twenty-five guys sprawled around the lobby watching Brad Pitt and Edward Norton beat the snot out of each other. It was a pretty fun night. I didn't feel like an outsider for once. Fight Club won me insider points XD

I also like watching guys' reactions to my reactions. I really don't think it's that rare for a girl to appreciate blood, sarcasm, and innuendos, but everyone sure acts like it is.

We were up til 2am, and I was really tired and freezing on the way back to my dorm, but there was a cheesy warm glow inside of me. I didn't spend a Friday night totally alone. There actually IS a first time for everything--and I know it won't be the last.
~Stephanie

Sunday, October 21, 2012

What Makes a Man

The guest pastor at church today promted the question, "What makes a real man?" He had some quick bullet points on the subject, but it wasn't the main point of his sermon, so he didn't analyze it very thoroughly. However, I didn't find his actual sermon nearly as interesting as that question, so I took the liberty of zoning out and thinking about it myself.

Upon much zoning out, analyzing, and even some Googling, I give you my personal opinion of qualities that make a man.

1. Gentlemanly {that's a word, right?}:  Old-fashioned? I mean, yes. And that's not a bad thing.  A real man will open doors, walk the girl home, pay for dinner, and offer the girl his jacket. I would not classify myself as a hopeless romantic, but I guess I am in this respect.

2. Confident:  Different from arrogance, sometimes similiar to cockiness. Cool, calm, collected, and actually able to complete tasks with competence. {So many Cs.} A real man can asses a situation and make a decision with confidence. It really irritates me when a guy refuses to have an opinion or constantly defers to others around him. Man. Up.

3. Protective:  Of both bodies and honor. A man stands up for those he loves when they're being physically threatened, but also verbally. It's every bit as important that a man combat a blow to his friend's character as it is that he join him in a physical fight.

4. Supportive:  As long as he doesn't think something is immoral or extremely unwise, a man should support his friends and family.  He should be encouraging and helpful. Ooh. Helpful.

5. Helpful: I feel like every female has this on her list XD A man should take the time to think of ways to help. Sympathizing is good. Offering to help is great. But actually having a practical suggestion is ten times better, and just going ahead and HELPING is a hundred times better.

6. Honorable:  A man keeps his word {I had "promises" here originally, but a man shouldn't have to PROMISE for you to be able to count on him}, doesn't cheat in relationships, tells the truth, and stands up for what he believes.

7. Thoughtful:  Words are good. Actions are better. Flowers, letters, remembering special occasions. People probably know you care in theory, but it's so important to show it, even {especially?} in ways that might actually inconvenience you.

8. Funny:  Okay, so I guess you can be a man without being funny, but all the best guys I know have good senses of humor too XD

This list got longer than I anticipated, and there are a ton of other things that crossed my mind to put on it. However, the list started to feel really demanding and ridiculous, and it occurred to me how I'd feel to read a list like this about girls. It'd probably make me annoyed and feel like a failure.

Huh.

Soooooo :3 Hopefully this doesn't totally kill the sensitive little boy inside any guy who reads this. And I'd like to offer guy bloggers a change to get "revenge." What qualities make a woman? I'm actually kind of curious to see what your thoughts are.

Any takers? Come on. Be a man XD

~Stephanie

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Mutual Weirdness


I mean...okay, yeah c:

~Stephanie

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Things That Will, Things That Won't

Things That Won't Work on Me
1. Tickling
2. Flattery
3. Helium {in reference to making my voice high-pitched}
4. Guilt-trips
5. Pickup lines
6. General peer pressure {not including close friends}
7. The Puppydog Face
8. Emotion {not always including anger}

Things That Will Work on Me
1. Foreign languages/accents
2. Dares
3. Batman apparel
4. Peer pressure from close friends
5. Caffeine
6. Saying my name
7. Staring
8. Logic

~Stephanie

Monday, October 15, 2012

Angry

I'm angry that I have to be away from home.

I saw pictures of a couple of friends on Facebook today. They're going to community college, so they still have their friends, their families, their favorite stores. They're getting an education and keeping the people they love. They don't have to live at home but can go back any time they want.

I'm outrageously jealous. I'm inappropriately angry.

Then there's Bekah, my roommate.

"It was nice to see people," she said yesterday. "But after a couple of days I was ready to come back. I just like the people so much better here. I don't have anybody back home who I really call a 'best friend.'"

Well, that's great. I'm genuinely happy for her to love college so much more than her life at home.

But I'm not that lucky. I have a best friend who's the other half of my brain, heart, soul, and body. I have a boyfriend who makes every minute delightful adventure. I have a sister who's growing up without me.

And I come here, and... I eat lunch with people who are fun in a shallow, boring way. I study for classes that are 80% busywork and 20% actual brain power. I sleep some, I eat a lot, I work out, I pass up offers to go play poker. And that's my life.

What the fuck. High school was twice as challenging and a thousand times more fulfilling than this. It's not that I'm homesick. I'm not sad. I'm angry. I'm furious. I'm absolutely pissed off.

I don't want to be here. I want to go home. I want to be where my life is. I want to go back to where I know I belong. This cannot be where I'm meant to be.

~Stephanie

Who I Am Now

I'm the girl who knows the answer, but won't raise her hand because she's afraid of being wrong.

I'm the girl who's better at introducing herself than carrying on a conversation.

I'm the girl who's more likely to tell you that her best friend loves owls or that her boyfriend's a chemistry major than anything about herself.

I'm the girl whose stomach muscles could lift a truck but whose arms can't lift a small child more than ten times.

I'm the girl who loves pictures, but hardly takes any because she hates to miss out on the moment.

I'm the girl who confuses everyone with her constant sarcasm.

I'm the girl in the Batman T-shirt.

I'm the girl with outrageous surges of anger who somehow doesn't experience road rage.

I'm the girl who tries to wear Converse to formal events.

I'm the girl who calls out Adventure Time apparrel.

I'm the girl who is smarter than she is friendly, and yet spends all her mental energy on studying instead of trying to make friends.

I'm the girl who misses home because she likes the people better back there.

I'm the girl who asks a question and then forgets to listen to the answer.

I'm the girl likes the idea of a challenge better than actually taking it.

I'm the girl who feels both wrong and right everywhere she goes.

I'm the girl with plans, potential, and passion who sits on the computer and blogs about it instead of doing it.

This is who I am now.

~Stephanie

Thursday, October 11, 2012

The Me I Want to Be

I want to be a girl who can say a lot just by the way she walks. I want to walk with even steps and straight shoulders, fully engaged in the world around me. I want to make eye contact with strangers, and leave them feeling different after they look away.

I want to shrug off my hesitant tendencies and be myself with abandon. I want to embrace, to embody the mantra, "Those who mind, don't matter." I will be myself because the world needs me, and one else can do it for me.

I want to be so comfortable with myself that I inspire others to be genuine as well. I want to be a piece of people, so that they feel more whole when I'm around. I want to bring out the extrovert in everyone. I want to be the presence that flows into a group of acquaintances and melds them into a group of friends.

I want to be so original that people are constantly wondering what I'm going to do next. I want to be dared and be daring. I want to be the one people turn to when they hear the phrase, "But who would do that?" I want to be the one who can pull it off.

I want to say what I mean when I mean to say it. I want the perfect word to connect from my mind to my mouth. I want to use the right number of words and the right amount of time. I want to be eloquent and articulate without throwing people off. I want people to understand me the first time.

I want to listen to everything around me. I don't just want to hear what you said, I want to understand and internalize it. I don't just want to hear the doorbell ring, I want to be the one who gets up to answer it. I don't want to ignore anything, by accident or on purpose. I want to notice the world and engage it.

I want power in my eyes and joy in my laugh. I want to have a healthy soul. I want to be intensely real, yet refreshingly pleasant. I want to be strong without making others feel weak. I want to be intelligent without making others feel stupid. I want to be popular without making others feel inadequate.

I want people to wonder what makes me different. I want to be able to say that I found myself, and that I found myself in something bigger than us. I want my fingers to leave traces of God in the air. I want to be a bold person for a bold God. I want to be real. I want to be radical. I want to be revitalized.

This is the Me I want to be.

~Stephanie

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Half a Year

Today, Sam and I have been together dating for half a year. That sounds like a lot longer than it feels like. Life just goes by fast. One day I'm like "No," the next I'm like "Okay," and the next I'm like "Oh hey, six months."

I had an interesting idea for this post. I was going to post an except from a journal entry from each month we've been dating. But then I realized that I'm at college, and intentionally do not have my old journals with me. So I have to improvise with what I have with me.

April 4th, we talked about dating. We both wanted to. We both thought it was a bad idea at the time. But we knew if we didn't date, we'd just end up going out anyway under a different label. We figured it was better not to kid ourselves or those around us.

On April 9th, he asked my dad. I really didn't think he was going to. But, like, he did. So. Yeah. I was pretty happy. {I was also listening at the bottom of the stairs :3 By the way, Sam.}

April 10th, we went FBO XD Woo.

Then on April 14th I left for Italy for two weeks XD Aw.

May 12th was senior prom.

I don't really remember a lot about May XD I'm assuming nothing awesome happened. Correct me if I'm wrong, and forgive me if it was really important.

June 10th:
I picked a fluffy, white dandelion and held it out to him. He paused, totally still, and then in a lightning-fast motion, his head snapped out and his lips closed neatly around the dandelion fluff.

I was absolutely shocked. I let go of it and turned away, bursting into laughter. I walked away a few paces before turning back. He looked sheepishly pleased with himself. He made a little O with his mouth and blew out the seeds. It was awesome.

His audacious sense of irony is my favorite.

July 2nd:
We were sitting in the backyard a few weeks ago, watching it storm at night. The sky was gloriously angry, the wind powerfully beautiful. The trees loomed closer, showing their pale underbellies. They actually looked like they were advancing, Sam and I agreed.

“What if one of them falls?” I said, wondering without worry.

“Well, if I hear something crack,” he began in his confident, plain way. “I’m grabbing you and we’re running that way.” He pointed in the direction of the garden.

I nodded. “Okay.”

August 12th:
Sam got FRIED. Like the brightest sunburn I’ve ever seen. So we aloe’d him, all three of us. Sophie was super sympathetic; I kinda was, but at the same time, I felt mischievous. He lay on Sophie’s and my bed; we sat around him rubbing aloe on his back and blowing on it. I was drinking a bottle of water, and I suddenly had the terrible, cruel idea of, like, grinding the cap into his back. I totally would not have anyway, but Sam, facedown on the bed, said,

“Stephanie, I swear, do not scrape that cap on my back.”

He knows me too well :3

September 2nd:
Sunday was Matt's birthday party at the neighborhood pool. I was soooo sleepy at one point.  Just utterly exhausted.  Sam and I were in the clubhouse on the couch, Cass and Sarah in the comfy chairs facing it.  We were all talking.  Sam had his arm around me.  I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.  He trailed his fingers gently along my forehead, temple, nose, cheek.  To my sleepy surprise, it felt nice, not unnerving.

"I feel like normally there's no way you'd let me do this," he said. "You must be reeeeally tired."

"Mhm," I mumbled.

I fell asleep.  Later Sarah told me that she tried to reach over and wake me up, but Sam shook his head and motioned her hand away, mouthing, "No, let her sleep."

But Cass said my name and woke me up.

October 8th:

Dear Sam,

People always try to define love. I used to think that was stupid. Like, it actually bothered me when I was little, and I got into an argument with my dad about how stupid it is that there are so many love songs out there.

I still think there are a ridiculous number of love songs, but defining love is interesting enough that I'm going to put aside my childish exasperation and give it a shot.

I think I love you, because I can show you my writing.
I think I love you, because my chest hurts when something bad happens to you.
I think I love yo,u because I'd rather read the dictionary with you than go skating with someone else.
I think I love you, because I can fall asleep in your arms.
I think I love you, because I can't stop myself from smiling when I see you.
I think I love you, because I pray for you every night.
I think I love you, because I have nothing to hide from you.
I think I love you, because you know my passwords.
I think I love you, because you have my back when I'm about to look like an idiot.

I think you love me, because you help me make the right choices.
I think you love me, because it bothers you when I'm treated inappropriately.
I think you love me, because you go to dances with me even though you hate them.
I think you love me, because you haven't given up on me.
I think you love me, because you're skipping band practice for our sixth-month.
I think you love me, because you call me when I'm upset.
I think you love me, because you want to do the right thing, even when it's hard.
I think you love me, because you listen to me.
I think you love me, because you went to seven Red Boxes to find "Horrible Bosses" for me.

I guess you can't really define love once and for all. Everyone feels love differently, shows love differently, judges love differently. But if I had to define it, I'd define it as this:

 "the freedom to feel secure in being yourself, knowing that the other person wants you to be as happy, healthy, and whole as you can be--even if that includes relentlessly mocking your parking skills"

~Stephanie

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

{?}

you know what i miss?

inspiration.

i miss not being able to focus on school work because there's a character in my head, screaming to be written about.

i miss being stressed out about an assignment because i chose to read a book instead of doing my work.

i miss being excited about a story idea. i miss thinking "this could be it! this might be the one that gets finished!"

i miss being unrealistic.

i miss being depressed about imaginary occurrances.

i miss the agonizing distraction of a good book.

i miss cold weather giving me story ideas.

i miss believing that one day, i'd be an author.

i miss ember and paige and kylie and lore and astraea and aleksandra and amyntas.

i miss moving my pencil, watching dialgoue spill across the page and thinking, "that's brilliant! why didn't i think of that?" when i guess i actually did.

i miss my characters writing themselves.

i miss being heartbroken. it's such fascinating inspiration. i wrote so much when i was heartbroken. isn't that a weird {stupid?} thing to miss?

i miss feeling like what i wrote was good. i miss having blog posts that i feel proud of.

i really want to be a writer. i think i am, somewhere, i just don't write. people at college don't even KNOW i'm a writer. isn't that sad? isn't that weird? all my life, people have known that i write stories. i didn't realize how much quieter that aspect of me has become until i come here and no one knows.

i told bekah the other day that i wrote stories.  her reply?  "Nuh-uh! Really?"

it's that hidden. no one knows.

i actually feel like poser when i call myself a writer now.

am i?

maybe.

i dislike this post. it doesn't say anything. there isn't a single line in here that i feel good about. there's nothing poetic or profound about this post. it's disorganized and uninspired.

i go through phases like this though. i always feel like i'll never write again. it's just that the phases usually last a few months.  this phase has been going on for well over a year. i'm starting to be worried.

am i not a writer after all?

i don't know what to do with myself.

~Stephanei

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

You're It

I was reading this tag on Ginger's blog, Quirks-and-Irks, and it occurred to me that I haven't done one of these in a really long time. Then it occurred to me that I haven't started studying for me highly-involved Western Civ midterm on Wednesday or my intense English midterm on Thursday or read any of my National Government reading for tomorrow.

So naturally I've elected to do this tag right now.

I don't know why the numbers are all weird. I'm too lazy to fix them.

46. What are your LEGAL initials? SMB

47. Who's the first B in your contacts? Barretts. My youth leaders.

48. When was the last time you laughed really hard? Well, how hard is really hard? I laughed a lot last night when Sam was naming the worst people I could possibly take to the homecoming dance.

49. Your number 1 top friend walks out of your life, do you go after them? Well, DUH. I neeeeeed herrrrrrrrrrrr.

50. Explain your last awkward moment? I described a character as a "go-getter" in Theater class and everyone laughed XD I didn't know that term was part of a song.

51. Are you afraid of the dark? No. I find it inspiring.

52. Do you have good vision? I have GREAT vision:  20/15

53. Have you ever tripped someone? Almost definitely, although I can't think of a specific instance.

54. Have you ever slapped someone? Sarah, my sister XD

55. Are you Irish? Nope.

56. Do you use chap stick? So much ChapStick.

57. Do you have any scars?  Yeah. A lot-ish.

58. Is there someone you will never forgive? Not as of yet. I used to hate several people, but I've kind of moved on. It's not necessarily that I've forgiven them, though, I've just gotten over it.

59. Are you dating the person you last held hands with? I'm pretty sure I held hands with Sarah over Family Weekend. So no.

60. Name the last person to text you? Greg, inviting me to kick a soccer ball tonight.

61. Would you marry someone 8 years older than you? It depends on how old I am.

62. Can you go in public looking like you do? Yep. I'm planning to in about thirty minutes.

63. Have you ever kissed someone whose name started with a A? No.

64. What side of the bed do you sleep on? I have a twin bed, so I pretty much sleep in the middle.

65. What's the first thing you'll do on your wedding day?  Wake up {if I've managed to sleep any} and either panic to the nearest human being or calmly begin the schedule I've created the night before.

66. Do you fall for people easily? Not even a little bit XD

67. Has anyone put their arms around you in the past 5 days? Audria hugged me Saturday night. It was inescapable.

68. Do you miss the way things used to be?  Some parts of it. I miss Sam. I miss Cassidy. I miss dance. I miss writing. I miss tanning. That's pretty much it.

~Stephanie