A Timeless Question

Is all fair in love and war?

I started this post with the intention of presenting both sides. "No, all is NOT fair in love and war, however here are some scenarios where maybe "unfair" actions are justified..."

But I couldn't do that, and have since deleted my feeble, grasping attempts. ALL is not ever fair in love OR war. Fairness and unfairness, justice and injustice legitimately exist in every situation in my mind--love and war included.

{However, one draft of this post contained a sentence that I kinda liked:  "Obviously I believe the same principle should protect me from all the man-stealing attention whores out there, slogging through the filth of their own lives." I'm in a really good mood right now, but somehow that strongly-worded sentence still popped into my mind.}

I remember wrestling with the question when I was eleven or twelve. I went back and forth, imagining myself in different situations, trying to see if there were times when I would justify actions that would normally be unfair. I honestly can't remember which opinion I settled on, or if I ever settled at all. I'm sure I tried to convince myself at some point that all WAS fair in love and war, if for no other reason than to be dramatic.

But no. I don't care how much I love a guy, if he's dating someone else, it is not fair for me to go after him. I don't care how much you love a girl, it's not fair for you to spread rumors about her crush so that she'll go for you instead.

This also means that if someone acts unfairly towards YOU in the name of their love, you still aren't allowed to react unjustly to them. Sorry.

War is a little harder for me to paint black and white. Where do you draw the line between "cleverly taking a tactical advantage," and "being dishonorable and underhanded"? I'm not sure, but I don't have to determine that in order to say that there ARE some things that are unfair even in war.

Using kids as ferries for bombs to make the enemy hesitant to eliminate the threat? NOT FAIR, VIETNAM.

Somehow this post/thought feels incomplete to me, but I really have nothing more to say.

What do you guys think? Is all fair in love and war?

~Stephanie

College Cravings

*happy sigh* You know, I could really go for some chocolate milk right now.

I wish I had some. But I don't. I guess I could go buy some, but I'd really rather not deal with that right now.

...

Ahh, I really want something though. I'll go the healthy route. Craisins.

*eats craisins*

Okay, no. That's not even close to anything I felt like eating.

Well, I have yogurt. And cocoa puffs. That's dairy and chocolate, sort of. If my taste buds squint really hard, maybe that will scratch the same itch as chocolate milk.

*eats yogurt and cocoa puffs*

Awesome. Yeah. That was good. Well, kind of. It was food that tasted nice. But it was all smooth and sort of tasteless... I wish I had something salty. And crunchy. I want chips.

*eats chips*

Cool. These are good. Wow. I'm so thirsty now. What have I got? Tea. That has caffeine and it's midnight. Damn. Water?

*drinks water*

I don't want water. And I have a little bit of heartburn. You know what I could really go for right now?

Chocolate milk.

...

*goes and buys chocolate milk*

Moral of the story:  Sometimes only one thing will do, so save yourself the heartache and useless calories and JUST BUY THE DAMN CHOCOLATE MILK.

~Stephanie

XD

This made me laugh XD

 

Open it in a new tab and magnify it, I guess. I dunno why it won't come up big enough to see.

~ Stephanie

a september eighteenth evening

the playlist that blew me away...

Demons ~ Imagine Dragons
Reel 1 (Diary) ~ Angels & Airwaves
The River Flows in You ~ Yiruma
Cemeteries of London ~ Coldplay
Castle of Glass ~ Linkin Park
Eyes Be Closed ~ Washed Out
Amsterdam ~ Imagine Dragons
Reel 6 ~ Angels & Airwaves
Breathe Me ~ Sia
The Little Things Give You Away ~ Linkin Park
Speed of Sound ~ Coldplay
Take a Picture ~ Filter
Dig ~ Incubus
Reel 5 (New Blood) ~ Angels & Airwaves
In Between ~ Linkin Park

it was a good night, y'all.

~Stephanie

I Did Study Eventually

9/17/13

What do people who aren't writers feel instead of inspiration? When they look up and the sky is clear and the breeze is soft and every breath feels like laughter? When the room is dark and the songs bleed passion and the energy makes you want to cry? When the line is funny and the smile is crooked and the sounds of life clutter your ears?

Surely they don't feel NOTHING. Surely writers don't just have a sixth sense, a tap into a whole separate layer of life.

That is what it feels like, though. Like a runner's high. You break through and everything is different. You access a different layer of experience. Everything is beautiful. Everything. Even things you recognize, and would describe as, ugly are beautiful in that Writer way. It's like you're made of goosebumps.

It's weird, because while you want to be so completely present, tap into every single aspect of the world right then, you also don't want to be disturbed, involved. Like, for God's sake, don't talk to me. Just exist and leave me alone and let me revel in the fact that you're alive, and I'm alive, and everything about life is so...delightful.

I wonder if I'm even allowed to talk like this. I don't follow through on my stories; most of my papers end up being pretty halfassed. The only times I write consistently are on my blog and in my journal, and those aren't avenues for "real" writers. Anyone can--and does--do those things.

 But honestly, I do FEEL like a writer. And I don't think that feeling can be wrong. Anyone who writers is a writer, by definition.

But then you have Writers. A Writer is a Writer no matter what she does or where she goes or how she feels. It's as inescapable as being female. Sometimes you might not feel feminine; sometimes you might hate the hassles of being a girl; sometimes you can pretty successfully conduct yourself like a guy. But you're a female, and at the end of the day you have to come back to it.

A Writer is not defined by her occupation, or how she dresses, or how many words a day she can crank out. A Writer is defined by how her mind works, and the existence of those delightful, goosebump moments where the world collides with her mind in a breathtaking array of impressions.

I am a Writer not because I write, but because...I am.

{Well then. SOMEONE was feeling pretentious yesterday XD}

~Stephanie

Apathy

After nineteen years of being told "you worry too much," "you care too much," "don't be so uptight," and "just chill out," it is incredibly strange to be repeatedly accused of the opposite.

It's true. I don't care very much anymore. Not in a depressed, sleeping all day, refusing to wear real clothes kind of way, but in a spontaneous, shallow, slightly cynical way. I don't want to tell anyone that I love them anymore. I don't want to make plans just to talk. I don't want to get involved in a campus ministry. I don't want to seek out counseling.

I have plenty of fun, but I'm frighteningly apathetic about things that should be important to me, including myself. Sam and Cassidy have really wanted me to talk to a counselor for a long time, for a lot of reasons, but I haven't done it.

Sam feels like I don't care enough to do what's right for me. I don't care enough to look my problems in the eye and DO SOMETHING because I'm emotionally lazy. He feels like I've lost my strong sense of direction, and even the desire to get it back.

Cassidy thinks I don't care because I don't value myself enough. I have so little respect for and confidence in myself that I don't even want to try. I see myself as a lost cause, one too weak even to strive for what's right.

I dreamed last night that Justin told me I had to be more careful of people. Just because I don't care doesn't mean I can assume no one else does either. My apathy is hurting people.

Even Sam's friend James sees it. I barely know James, but in talking to him last night, he gently told me that I can't just "wait for my conflicts to work themselves out."

Everyone has different motives and interpretations of what my issue is, but I think everyone can agree that I majorly need to get my shit together. The only problem?

I can't make myself care.

I don't want to sound like a cliche charity case, but I think Cassidy's right. I recognize that certain things I do are wrong, but I know I won't stop doing them. I sit in church and take notes, but feel nothing. It's good stuff, it really is, but I know I won't apply it. I've gone too far to save myself. I just don't think it matters anymore. I am where I am, and it's past the point where turning around will even do any good.

I know that God specializes in just such cases, but one does have to LET him. I can't meet him halfway right now. I can't meet him a fourth of the way. I don't even think I could walk with him if he took my hand. I need to be DRAGGED out of this rut, but no one can do it for me.

I wish this post were a battle cry. I wish it would end with some lines like, "But you know what? That attitude ends today. I am worth this fight, and with God's help, I can be the best Stephanie this world has ever seen."

But it won't. It'll end with "I realize that my apathy is killing me and those around me, but the thing about apathy is that you just can't care."

~Stephanie

Five Ways

I'm not always the easiest person to be friends with. A lot of people plain don't like me. So if you're one of those people just looking for a way out, here is the post for you.

Five Ways To Drive Me Away:

1. Insult Adventure Time. I had a girl notice my Adventure Time shirt today. "I watched a couple of episodes," she said. "I was disappointed. Cartoon Network used to be GOOD." If I hadn't already disliked the girl, that unnecessary comment alone would have done it.

2. Point out that my feet are gross. There's nothing like hanging out with some friends and having one point out a spot of dry skin on your foot that "needs to be taken care of."

3. Use atrocious texting grammar. I can deal with the occasional "u" or ridiculous use of "lol," but when an average text from you reads "Oh lol ah that's suckys we'll better pack as much in as u can" or "Lol ye tmrw shud n fun day," I can only be but so involved with you.

4. Disrespect my musical taste. You think Linkin Park is "just noise"? That's cool. And by "cool" I mean "a rude and abominable opinion that should not be thrown at me so cavalierly."

5. Touch me excessively. I'm not a hugging person, but a Hello hug and a Goodbye hug make plenty of social sense. However, if you are constantly brushing my arm, poking my side, or--God forbid--trying to lean a body part against me, we're just not gonna work out.

What are some friendship deal-breakers for you guys?

~Stephanie

Question

Can you unmature?

I was reading through some old blog posts today, and I have come to the conclusion that I was a more calm, peaceful, and driven Stephanie in 2011 than I am in 2013. I do things today that 2011 Stephanie would scorn. I need things today that 2011 Stephanie could live her whole life without. I want things today that 2011 Stephanie would punch me for.

Don't get me wrong, I'm loving college. I'm loving it ten times more this year than I did last year. I have more friends, am doing better in classes, and am dressing like "clothes" occurred to me more than three seconds before I walked out the door.

I'm making some choices that aren't "the best," but I'm comfortable with them. I feel like this is my time to make mistakes, do crazy things, and on occasion not give a shit for literally once in my life. I've been a tightass for nineteen years. Time to live and breathe a little? I think so. I'm comfortable with my experiments in the cavalier realm. I feel like this is a stage in life I desperately need to go through in order to put myself back together and be the best Me I can be.

However.

I feel like I'm a little late. My whole life, I've been ahead of the game, maturity-wise {at least emotionally}. I knew what I wanted early, felt comfortable approaching adults early, and fell legitimately in love early. Peers used to frustrate me because they could never understand where I was coming from. They just weren't ever "there" yet.

But somewhere along the line--pretty recently--my internal timeline got screwy. I feel like I went from being an emotionally mature, self-motivated, calm-hearted individual to an emotionally-insecure, short-sighted, club/dance/party-loving person.

I think everyone should go through a phase of the latter. I think it's healthy and will be helpful when you try to understand life, grow into who you're made to be, and later talk to your kids about growing up.

However, I think the immature latter phase is supposed to come BEFORE the mature, content phase.

Am I wrong? Am I alone in my confusion/experience? Did I just miss my chance to experiment and have fun?

I'm honestly asking, and would greatly appreciate any council or comments you have to offer... While I'm having a great year, I'm pretty much really struggling a lot.

~Stephanie

One Percent

I wrote this randomly one afternoon in July. I like it, but I don't know what's going on yet.
~~~~~~~~
“Are you okay?” Erika’s voice registered as irritated and impatient. The syllables assaulted my ears, causing a tender soreness that immediately engulfed my mind.

Sure, I was fine. Aside from the screeching pain in my head and the fact that my peripheral vision had turned to emptiness. Despite the panic rising tangibly in my being, I was fascinated by the vision loss. It wasn’t darkness closing in. It was like the world ceasing to exist, sinking into vague splotches of nothing.

“I’ll be right back,” I mumbled, pushing past my sister. “I’m fine; just one sec.”

I closed the door of the tiny hall bathroom behind me and crouched in front of the toilet taking deep, shaky breaths. I made my mouth into a small O and shut my eyes. That didn’t help. The sensation was disconcertingly similar to how the world was starting to look with my eyes open.

“They said this would happen,” I whispered evenly to myself. “99% certainty. If anything, this ought to make you feel more at ease. Everything is going according to plan. You’re fine. You’re fine.”

“Elodie.” Erika’s voice slammed into me like a sack of flour: dull and heavy. I winced.

“Erika,” I returned. My voice still sounded strong, I noted with surprised satisfaction. “Can you just give me a moment of privacy? Is that honestly too much to ask?”

“Are you kidding me?” I could picture my sister with her hands on her hips and her left eyebrow peaking. “Look in the mirror and say that!”

A frown pinched at my nose. “I don’t think you’re using that accusation correctly. I always give you space when you ask.”

“No!” Erika cried. I heard the light slap of her giving her bare foot a stamp. “Literally, Elodie. Would you please just look at yourself?”

I snorted inwardly, which somehow sent a wave of nausea flowing over my core. I don’t know, would I look at myself? I wasn’t sure how much of my vision was left.

I opened my eyes a squinty amount, and found that I could see only the toilet and none of my surroundings.

“Seriously,” came Erika’s voice. She sounded breathy and nervous now. “I’m serious, Elodie. Look, if you haven’t already.”

At least I think that’s what she said. I know I heard some Erika Voice sounds, but I might have just manufactured the actual words. Everything was starting to feel very grainy and irrelevant. Nevertheless, I pushed my rubbery legs into a standing position and shuffled to the mirror without bending my knees. I gasped silently.

My skin was translucent purple and shrinking. It pulled at my eye sockets and mouth, giving me the look of a sour Asian beggar woman. Well, a purple one. It pulled so hard on my nose that I realized I was having trouble using it to breathe. I watched as my ears tucked themselves to my head and my forehead started to split.

This was not what they said would happen. This was not part of the plan.

My last thought was So this was the 1% chance

~Stephanie