stupdi

Stupdi is a word I made up (by accident). It means the same as stupid, but it's more of a silly kind of stupid.

Every trial has a reason and a lesson. I'm trying to figure out why God wanted me to sprain my ankle.

Possibly because I hate accepting things from people. I hurt myself because I didn't want to accept a ride home from Jasmine's boyfriend. Mind you, he was taking care of a sick drunk, and I thought it would be rude to leave his girlfriend alone with a guy who could throw up at any time, but still.

and now, I have one leg, and I'm screwed. I'm forced to accept people's help.

Or maybe it's something else. I don't know, I haven't figured it out yet. But I'm looking, because I feel like if I don't learn anything from this trial, it's a waste of my time.

How to fix our country in 10 (not) easy steps

these steps are easier said than done. I understand that. But I've been thinking about this for a while, and although I'm not an expert, I just feel like ranting today.

basically, the government is doing some stupid things, we as people are doing stupid things.

so here are my thoughts.

do tell me what you think.

1. stop buying things from China
2. have the criminals in our system build factories (this will keep them busy and replace the factories from China)
3. have the criminals build a wall around the USA so immigrants can't sneak in.
4. Provide a way for illegal immigrants to become legal citizens. This process will include learning the language and passing a language test, sending the children to our schools, and the men over age 18 will serve in the military for 4+ years. Then they can become legal citizens and they will have earned their stay.
5. the unemployed of America –not the criminals—can work in the factories. No experience required, and it will be a job that will give the experience required to get a new job.
6. the government will get their hands out of our school systems. the schools will get a certain amount of money, and then the schools will have their own policies about EVERYTHING. also: parents can choose which school to send their kids too, whether or not they live nearby.
7. teachers pay will be doubled, if not raised even more than that. the jobs will be more competitive, and our kids will actually get an education.
8. congressmen should get paid less, and have to pay taxes, and take care of their own retirement plans, and buy their own health insurance etc.
9. the government should stay out of health insurance. end of conversation.
10. stop sending help and financial aid out of the country. natural disasters are terrible. but that's not their job: that's the church's job.

The Bridge to Nowhere

I am doing a French presentation about Nature Writing, so I decided the best way to learn about it was to go do it.

This is the result.

It’s been a long time.

I haven’t written in ages. I’ve been focused on knitting and crocheting, because it makes me money. Writing doesn’t. Yet. Still working on that.

The whole way up here, my mind has been churning—I’ll write about this, and that. What a pretty sound. The grass is so green here.

Now that I’m here, nothing important comes to mind.

It’s a beautiful place: quiet, for a college campus. Probably only because it’s break and there’s only a few dozen people here. There’s a sound of some sort of electrical factory equipment far off in the distance, and every once in a while I hear the chirp of a utility van go by.

I hear the wind approach, like the enemy in the battle, slowly stirring up sound and getting louder as it gets closer. It brushes the leaves and moves the grass before it dances through my hair and tickles my skin.

Where I am is like a pelvis. It’s a bowl-shaped valley, small, but photography tricks could make it look endless because of the shapes of the hills and the positioning of the trees. There is a stone wall surrounding the quarters of the valley—the iliac crest—and stone steps in the middle where the wall joins, leading back up to the real world—the symphosis pubis.

Anatomically, I sit in the sacrum.

It’s a small foot bridge made of stone, a little bit of a slant, and curls connecting the handrail to the stone. Only two feet off the ground at the highest point, it leads from one hill—well, lump—to the other. It doesn’t join anything, it doesn’t protect from anything.

Does it serve a purpose?

Does the tailbone serve a purpose?

The girl who told me about The Bridge to Nowhere is a nutrition major, she said it was near the nutrition building, and that’s all I knew about where it was. I’d lived in Buchanan, one of the dorms in upper campus, for a semester. But I’d never gone to this side of upper campus: I’d had no reason to. Walking up to Buchanan the way I used to made me miss living there. I missed the beauty, the wind, the trees, the solitude, the fifteen minute hike to get to classes. I almost wanted to move back—then I remembered they didn’t have single rooms, private bathrooms, or kitchens. So that idea went out the window.

I found the bridge. {girl}had said she used to go up there and sit and listen to God, and pray. It sounded like a lovely place to explore on a boring windy dark day all alone on campus.

{boy} said the LARPers met here for tournaments and battles, or something. I’d seen some pictures, and I knew it was beautiful, but I didn’t know it was quite this symbolic.

At least, I found it to be symbolic. Symbolic of someone I love.

I was pretty sure nature writing was about looking at God’s creation and trying to see His glory, and power in it. I still think that’s true. Why else write about art but to worship the artist?

But the bridge made me think about trials, hard times, warfare, like {boy}'sLARP battles. Spiritual battles God puts in our lives. Sometimes they don’t look like they’re important, sometimes they look like one more pointless hoop to jump through, one more hill to hike up, one more bridge to cross. They feel like they’re just stupid things that are in our lives for no reason.

But the tailbone is there for a reason. It took us a while to figure out why we have one. It turns out we have ligaments attached to this “useless remains of evolution” and if you didn’t have one, you wouldn’t be able to stand up, sit down, walk, lay down… basically, you couldn’t go anywhere.

Maybe this was a pointless bridge, totally useless to some people, like the people who built it there. They were probably thinking “why in hell are we building a bridge that doesn’t have water or thorns or lava under it?”

But it served as a quiet place for {girl}. A battle field for {boy}.

A man who was betrayed, broken, wrongly accused, thrown in jail, and then forced to remember the unfair sin against him every day for the rest of his life may spend his days trying to understand why he was forced to cross this bridge. And he may never know. But maybe it serves as something higher and better. Maybe it’s a blessing, a lesson, a way to worship God, not to the one who was broken, but to someone else.

Does God do stuff like that?

I heard the rain before I felt it. It fell on the leaves and made a sound a child taking off his swimsuit, and letting the sand from the beach fall into the bathtub or onto the kitchen floor.

I snapped my notebook shut and threw everything into my bag, and headed up the hill towards the symphosis pubis. The steps were obnoxiously steep, and I was out of breath by the time I got up. I sighed at the trees, wishing I could be as beautiful as them in their death. I started the long walk back down to my dorm.

I stopped to pick some little purple flowers, and then went into a café I’d never been to before. Now I sit in a window seat eating a pastry and sipping a bad latte, waiting for my Love to text me, telling me he’s finally here on campus after two months of not seeing each other, to see me, to hold me, to kiss me, to remind me of the Glory and fulfilled promises of my highest Father.

I will take him to The Bridge to Nowhere, to the tailbone of the valley, and maybe he’ll remember that sometimes things that seem pointless really serve a greater purpose—if only for future joy.

where's waldo?

more like "where's emily?"

yes, the truth is out. I call myself emily on this blog. it's not my real name. long story there ;)

Back at school. It feels good to be back. Sis is moved in. I think she's still sleeping.

We left Thursday night at 10:30pm and drove through the night. We got to school at 5:30. Record time! It was actually pretty fun. Once we got past midnight, it wasn't hard to stay awake. I like driving at night. It's a lot more relaxing. There's no traffic. There's no huge trucks (well, okay, there are some, but there's plenty of room on the road to pass them). And  most of the time, the only headlights on the road are mine! So I don't get blinded!! yay!

Anyway, our ID cards worked at 5:30, so we went into the dorms. Sis and Jeff (more on him later) crashed in commons rooms. I slept in my own bed for the first time in almost a month. I fell asleep about 6am.

and woke up at 9:30am.

because I had forgotten to bring in my medicine and I didn't want to go into withdrawal.

so I got on some clothes and shoes and went out to the car and got my meds and by the time I'd taken them, I was awake (it was cold outside) so I just started unpacking and cleaning and stuff.

we were busy until 6:30pm, when I finally died. I was organizing my yarn (it's still a mess, but it's better) but I just crashed. so I called John for a few minutes, and went to bed at 7.

now im up and I need to go to walmart and get food so I can eat something besides chocolate and doughnuts for breakfast.

okay so: Jeff. Jeff is Sis's friend. She met him last Christmas. I was at college last year, and she was lonely. She met two guys: Jeff, and Blake. the relationship between them was a young adult novel, and one day I'm going to write about something like it and make a lot of money.

anyway. Jeff is a good friend of hers, and he just transferred up to school with us. so you'll be hearing more about him.

lastly: last night I had a dream that everyone thought I pulled a fire alarm in a building and they were going to arrest me. but it turned out I was really a super-hero detective, and I helped them solve the case. I used Jesus-power. (no seriously: my ID said "Christ appointed detective with the Power of God.") anyway then these demons came to our house and I had to destroy them so they wouldn't kill my family, and it was really hard, but I did it using wit and Jesus-power and a really cool gun that shot blue bullets and made things explode.

kinda wish I hadn't woken up.

Super-emily to the rescue!!!

Homosexuality from a Berean's perspective

BTW, Berean is a term from Acts 17, where the church in Berea was congratulated because they tested everything they were being taught against what they knew was true from the old testiment. I consider myself non-denominational, but also a Berean, because I test everything I hear against what I know to be true.

This is a nerdfighter video. I would ask you please watch it before reading the post. There are some weird sexual facts about bed bugs (awkward…) but I'd like you to watch it not only because it's interesting and funny, but it brings up a good point.

you can skip it if you really want, and my post will, hopefully, still make sense.

(note: I'd say this is for ages 16+)

 

My response:

It's interesting to me to see a non-Christian's perspective on homosexuality. Hank made this video for National Coming Out Day.

Sexual orientation is different than personality. One of the misconceptions poor Hank had was that since his personality mixed well with girls but he didn't have crushes on them, maybe his sexual orientation matched theirs, since his personality matched theirs.

I really like knives and violent movies. I like hanging out with guys. I write crime thrillers about kick-ass guys (and girls) who blow things up. Am I attracted to women because most of the time it's men who like movies like that? absolutely not. My Sis has mostly guy friends… I think she has three girlfriends total, and she's friends with them mostly because I am (Victory, her sister, and a girl in the state we used to live in). Does that mean our sexual orientations are closer on the scale of Male than of Female? I'd beg to differ. Our personalities might be, but sexual orientation is a totally different scale, and it's not really a scale at all. It's a box, and it's determined by your DNA and your anatomy. Again, some people get confused by their personality, but that doesn't determine your sexuality.

A lot of people say they "knew they were gay" or "were born this way," but science has shown us that when we really get to the bottom of homosexuality, it's usually because of a bad experience, or confusion, such as Hank's confusion, or the confusion of my character in my book. my character decides that she hates guys because they're mean, so if she hates guys, she MUST like girls! it made sense to a little kid at the time. when she falls in love with a guy in high school, she get's REALLY confused.   sometimes but not always, someone will be confused because of sexual abuse as a child. Nobody is born gay. They are born male or female.

Now: do I have a problem with gay people? am I condemning them to hell? do I hate them? let me answer each one.

Do I have a problem with them? Define problem. I have a lot of homosexual friends. They are great friends to me. Some of my ballet students are gay. Some of my writing friends are lesbians. I write a novel about a girl who thinks she is a lesbian (email me if you're curious, because I'm not going to write about the book on this blog). Now: I have a problem with homosexuality itself. not the people, but the sin. It's disgusting. it makes me sad. it's against God's commands and it's against nature.

(if you disagree with me about it being against nature and tell me "almost every other species has homosexuality," my only argument is "every other species can still reproduce from homosexuality. they don't do it because they're confused, they do it because it's part of their survival. if two males can't have sex and have a baby, or two females can't have sex and have a baby, it's against nature.)

Also: It doesn't matter if I have a problem with it or not, because I'm not God (more on that below). God is the one who created us, God is the one who rules this universe and all of creation. If God is the one who has a problem with it, I would be smart if I were you and do what He says.

Second question: Am I condemning them to hell? no, I'm not. I'm not God. I'm a Christian, but I'm not God. Again, I hate the sin, not the people. My job on earth is to glorify God, enjoy Him forever, and go into all the world and preach the gospel and make disciples. My job is to love my neighbor as myself. My job is to trust and obey. You've heard it all before, but that's really what it boils down to. Take my life and let it be, ever only all for thee. My job is not telling people who is going to hell because of what they're doing. THAT IS GOD'S JOB. seriously. God is the one who says "You're disobeying me, you're in sin, you need my help, you need to come to me." God is the one who says "Take up your cross and follow me." God is the one who may say "Depart from me, I never knew you." (scariest words in the Bible, btw.) Condemning is not my job.

Third: Do I hate them? No. Based on everything you just read, do you think I hate them? Of course not. Again, I have homosexual friends. I don't hate them. I pray for them and I love them and I try to show them that true followers of Christ don't hate/condemn them, but that really we're no different than them.

That's right, I said it. Christians are no different than homosexuals. When it all boils down to it, we're all humans, we're all sinners, we're all separated from Christ. The only difference is Christians are redeemed, and homosexuals are not. But neither are serial killers. neither are drug addicts. neither are rapists. let's get a little dirtier: neither is your second grade math teacher who didn't believe in Jesus, but didn't tell you not to believe in Him either. neither is a Muslim or Buddhist. neither is a Catholic who believes they're going to heaven because they say Hail Mary's. (I'll write about my beliefs on Catholics another day, but in a nutshell: I believe some Catholics are saved, and some are not.) we're all dead, but Christ makes us alive.

Sin is sin. There are no degrees of sin. If my mom tells me I can have two and only two cookies, and I take three, that's sin. If I sleep with another woman, that's sin. It's the same word, it's the same meaning. I know it's a huge difference to us, but it's still sin to God, and He's the one who makes the rules, and I have no right to say any different. THAT right there is why I can't hate homosexuals: because they sin just like I do, their sin is no worse than mine, they are no different than me.

And I am commanded to love everyone as I love myself. Hopefully I love others more than I love myself.

Also: that amazing video that will BLOW YOUR MIND really is amazing. I kinda want to know the answer to the mystery!!! and I want to watch more videos by him.

Question for you:

Would you like more video response posts? And, was this absurdly long and did you skip it because I'm pathetic and long winded (or you were busy)?

just ignore me.

im a little depressed because school is over. and although I want to go home I know I'm going to miss the independence and the freedom.

I'm also stressed because I really don't want to run into voldemort and I know I probably will, and I'm still not sure where we stand. he facebooked me back at one point, but we're still not even friends on facebook. I'm really not sure what to do about him. I'm just hoping I don't have to do anything, I'm sort of hoping I just don't see him at all.

but the probability of that in my itty bitty little town is extremely small.

I'm also really upset with myself. see for a while I was down to 122 pounds. I liked it down there. my legs looked really nice. but all my friends and family were worried about me for some reason, even though I was healthier then than I am now. but I got off the diet and started eating junk food again and I'm a lot heavier now. well, not a lot heavier now, like six or eight pounds heavier, but I hate myself again. I just do. maybe from a certain perspective my body is nice, but as a dancer, I'm a disaster. I want my legs back. and everything inside me is telling me to stop eating, even though I know from experience and education that THAT WILL NOT HELP ANYTHING. I did a freaking research report this semester on just that. but I feel like if I starve myself, I'll FEEL like it's helping.

I just have to start eating right again, I tell myself. then I go out and buy cookie dough.

I also haven't exercised as much as I'd like, but I blame it on my shoes. they're so worn out that everything hurts when I exercise, run or otherwise.

maybe it's PMS. it probably is. but right now it doesn't feel like that, it feels like I'm fat and ugly and worthless and I want to hide under my covers and talk to my characters because they'll listen and talk back and probably give me some pretty damn good advice. believe it or not, people who don't exist give really good advice. trust me, I've been listening to them for years. like when Derek said "do yourself a favor and make sure you know him before you decide if you like him or not." or when Nomi says stuff like "the people who don't like me aren't worth being my friends anyway." or when Lisa says "you're not responsible for other people's sins—you have a responsibility to God." I mean, I'd never come up with that stuff without them.

Right now It's Sophie. "There's a balance between taking care of your body, and enjoying food."

I want to enjoy food.

but I also want to look ok in a swimsuit. right now I sorta hang out of it.

doesn't matter. I'll be wearing shorts and a t-shirt over it anyway. at least that's what I tell myself to make me feel better about being fat.

stupid PMS. sometimes I just want to lose weight so I don't get my period anymore. but then I remember that if my parents found out about that, they'd take me out of school and make me gain weight.

stupid. stupid stupid stupid.

just ignore me. I don't think I'm serious about anything right now.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

I found me!

why do people always want to find themselves? What kind of person are you that you don't know who you are? what's so great about yourself anyway? what if you don't like what you find?

in my experience, people are evil and wretched and dirty. if finding yourself supposed to show you what you truly are, why would you even WANT to find that?

I didn't have to go through the painful process of finding myself because I know who I am. it was explained to me early on, and for that i know I'm blessed. I know that I am worthless and only Christ gives me worth.

maybe those people who are trying to find themselves are really trying to find God.

see this? this is my confused face.

so last night I went up to do my laundry and my clothes had 7 minutes left on them because I'm a moron and can't count to thirty. anyway. I was sitting there waiting, thinking about how much easier it will be this week to walk around campus and know I'm not going to run into jace and have to suffer through trying to figure out what he wants, trying to be his friend, and trying to give him enough space not to be annoying all at the same time.

and of course, he walks in. it was pretty funny because the poor guy was so confused for a second—that 'what the hell are you doing here'—look. we talked for a few minutes and he gave me the hug he owed me—another long story—and invited me to hang out with his friends while they played some video game.

now I really don't like sitting and watching people sit and watch a screen, but it had to beet trying to sleep while my roommate argued with her boyfriend about Glee and her upcoming marriage proposal which, for some reason, she expects to be perfect and romantic, even though her boyfriend is an idiot.

so I took a shower and grabbed my knitting and went upstairs. the four of them had their laptops hooked up to a weird thing in the middle of the room and they were spread out around the room at various tables and chairs and there were chords everywhere. let's just say it was not what I expected and it was a maze to get in and out.

but I sat there for an hour and a half and worked on my headscarf and watched him play some weird game where he dug through solid rock for an hour to make his spiral staircase freestanding.

of course I got back to my room to discover I'd left my clothes lying on my bed, so I slept like that little boy in The Rescuers Down Under, with a pile of clothes on my bed. I think a sock fell in the night and landed in the trashcan.

so I am, once again, left confused. if you've been following this story, I met him, he liked me, he flirted with me, he stopped liking me but continued to flirt with me because that's just what jace does, he texted me all through Christmas break where we made a writers pact and neither of us followed through with it, then when I got back he ignored me for three weeks and wouldn't text me back, I stumbled across him and he acted as if nothing had happened but he STILL wouldn't text me back, then he insists he wants me to eat lunch with him regularly but I can never find him and, when I'm up there he never acknowledges me, then one night I had sam drag him down for donuts and he started texting me back, now he's inviting me to sit with him while he digs through rock for an hour on the computer and still manages to flirt with me while he does it.

Pardon mon francais, but what the hell does he want?

<?

creeper

I realized I have the potential to be a creeper.

I pick people. I pick them for different reasons. maybe because they have nice hair, or an interesting face, or a tattoo I'm curious about, or they're ALWAYS doing one thing or another.

and then, I creep.

I remember their faces. I listen to their conversations without them knowing I'm paying attention. I learn who they hang out with. I learn their favorite places to hang out.

I learn their schedules. I can easily time my entrances, exists, pit stops, and food breaks to either run into them, or not run into them. I can cause them to notice me, or be sure they never see me.

creepy.

or maybe I would just be a really good secret agent.

or a writer?

<3

guilt

so here's the thing: this diet I was doing for school was taking over my life. After only three weeks I was at the point where I felt guilty for eating a brownie or peanut butter or a chicken patty. and the study was for my stress management class.

ironic?

so I'm done. I did it for about three weeks, and I'm going to put two of the three weeks up on the records and explain I couldn't continue doing it because of money, time, and stress, and how eventually I want to do the experiment on other people and for a long term. however, I did manage to drop my body fat percentage and weight over said two weeks. so I did what I set out to do. but for now, I'm done.

tonight for dinner, I hate a hamburger and pizza crust and a half a brownie and the whipped cream off a piece of cake. and I felt guilty for it and had to remind myself that I am now done with the retarded diet and I can eat what I want.

but even now I feel guilty.

I hate it! I want to be back at 130 or more pounds. and even though I won't look quite as great in a leotard, I chose to be satisfied with my body because I will never be thin enough to make myself happy.

see, I've always wanted to be about 115. I could do it if I worked really hard and had the time to exercise. but I like food. and I like it when my jeans fit. and I like having boobs.

but the thing is… even when I was down to 122 with a 14.8 body fat percentage, I still thought my legs were fat. I thought they weren't as fat, but I still looked at them and thought "ew. chubby jiggly yuck."

but unless I lost all my body fat and toned my muscles completely, I will never be satisfied. and the guilt I felt would have eventually, if I'd let myself keep going, become an eating disorder. not anorexia or bulimia, but still disordered eating to the point where I would be obsessed with losing weight.

thank God I'll never be a ballerina. He knew what He was doing by giving me bad arches and crappy knees and no turnout. He was saving me.

all I can say is, if you're not happy with your body, try changing it. you may change for good and be satisfied with the new change… or  you may learn that you were satisfied all along.

Things you should know about girls

this is a working list I am compiling for boys who don't understand girls. any questions? leave a comment. girls: any additions? same; leave a comment and I'll add it.

1. if you want to show your girl how much you adore her, sending her flowers is nice and all, but she'd much rather you sit down and talk to her for an hour or so.
2. if she's mad, let her talk. let her scream. let her yell and throw things. then when she's done, explain. but LET HER GET IT OUT FIRST or she'll just get irritated. and don't think kissing her will help. it'll just get you a smack in the face.
3. if you think she's in a bad mood, don't ask "are you in a bad mood?" because the mood will get worse. and she'll probably lie about it anyway. so just hug her or make her laugh or if all else fails, just sit there and don't do anything. yes you are doing something to help: you're helping her release stress.
4. yes she does want your hoodies. probably your jeans and sweat pants, too. and they have to smell like you (after a shower).
5. Don't call her sexy or cute or hot. well you can once in a while, but not regularly. she wants to hear "Beautiful."
6. she'll deny it to her grave but she does want you to tickle her.
7. a little bit of PDA is ok but don't embarrass her.
8. if she starts complaining about something, don't try to fix it or do anything about it. all she needs is someone to talk to and she'll be ok (unless she asks for help)
9. one week a month she'll be a disaster. it's not her fault. she needs extra hugs.
10. don't. forget. her. birthday.
11. Anything you say or do with another girl that you don't want her to know is considered cheating.
12. the best way to calm her down is to make her laugh. preferably at you or something else, and not herself.
13. don't show off your muscles. she don't need you to flex for us to notice. the second you show off, she thinks you're disgusting.
14. if you tell anyone a secret she's shared with you, she won't trust you for a really. long. time.
15. please. she doesn't want to smell you until you're hugging her. go light on the cologne.
16. if you say something that makes you look or feel like a moron and you get nervous or embarrassed, she thinks it's cute. so smile and don't worry about it.

Date a girl who writes

this is a response post to Date a Girl Who Reads, which was a response to Date a girl…something else… I don't remember.

Date a girl who writes. She's hard to find because she's the one who stands in the corner of the room watching other people from a distance. She's the one who searches their faces and watches their body language. She stands close enough that she can hear but far enough away so that she won't be seen. She's a master at invisibility, and all the smart girls know she's the best at eavesdropping. They go to her for the gossip. She knows who is in love with who just by watching them.

You'll be a lucky man if you find her. She's the one with a journal in her hand, a notebook in her purse, scrap paper in her car, and pencils in her back pocket. she's always scribbling something, praying it won't evaporate before she gets it down onto paper. and because she's always scribbling, she's always looking down, and that's why you never noticed her before.

if you're lucky, you'll find her at a library or in a park or at a coffee shop or in an airport, drinking coffee and watching people or typing furiously at her computer. If you see her looking at you, look back and wait.

if she looks away she doesn't want to be interrupted and she doesn't want you to notice her, so pretend you don't. but if you can get her to look at you and not look away, she wants to talk to you. she's targeted you, pursuing you, inviting you. once she catches your eye, once she hears your voice that first time, she begins her profile. she's the one who will have your character in 10 seconds and have you completely profiled in 10 minutes.

after two weeks she'll know you better than you know yourself.

if you catch her muttering to herself, don't feel awkward, she's talking with the characters in her story, probably arguing about what happens next.

don't lie to her because she knows. she can see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice, sense it in your energy field. she pays attention to every detail of your every word and if you're not careful, she'll ask the question that strips your lie away and you'll be humiliated.

so tell the damn truth.

If something is wrong, you may as well tell her because she'll figure it out. When something is wrong, you may as well tell her because otherwise she'll jump to the most absurd, most outlandish, most creative but ridiculous possibilities anyone could ever come up with, and when the truth comes out and she tells you what she thought, you'll remind her she's crazy, and she'll remind you that she knows this because of the voices, and you'll both laugh and hug and go on with life.

It's easy to shop for a girl who writes: office supplies like sticky notes and pencils, calendars, and especially beautiful journals will bring her immense joy because she knows that blank paper is the beginning of a new person, a new life, a new world. and holding that blank notebook in her hands lets her feel the power she knows exists inside her soul.

If you find out she's upset, don't ask her why, just let her cry until she hands you her journal and goes to stand by the window until you finish reading her most recent entry. She could never tell you what was wrong with her mouth because her soul is in her hands. once you read that entry, skip back in her journal and read the parts about you, because if she handed you her journal and walked away, it means she wants you to read it. she wants you to know that she dreams about becoming your only love every night, and that she has the whole thing planned out.

then once you know the plan, carry it out. she'll play along.

she'll write the wedding invitations, and the baby announcements, and stories for your children. she'll write you letters in your lunch every day and put sweet sensual notes on your pillow in the evenings. she'll ramble on and on as you take long walks along the beach and tell you all about a world that doesn't exist, and people who were never born and will never die and whom she loves as much as she loves your children, because her characters are just more of her children.

don't feel like you didn't help create them because chances are, if you love a girl who writes, there's a piece of you embedded in every hero, and a piece of herself in every heroine. you can sleep at night knowing that even after you both die, you'll both continue to live together in everyone else's minds through her books and stories, and you can live a thousand nights in stories that never end.

<3

grrrr

i just don't get it, really. is there something i'm missing? do i just not understand what he's thinking?

Jace says that i don't annoy him, that he likes talking to me, that i'm fun. he says to text him so we can hang out.

then i text him to hang out and he avoids saying yes.

he says to find him at lunch or dinner so we can eat together, but even when i'm in clear view he never comes to sit with me.

it just doesn't add up. his initial interest has died, so that's good. but i still want his friendship—it was all i'd wanted in the first place—because he's really cool and i like him as a person. but i can't figure him out.

and sometimes it hits me, like today, how incredibly lonely i still am. i have a few friends; my pretend brothers/sisters, and then out here my Sarah (not her real name, but i knew her from home), and Kelsey (a friend that Sarah introduced to me) and Jace and Derek.

but i'm not really close to any of them. Derek and i talked on the phone a few nights ago, but that's it really.

i want to find a friend that i can trust implicitly and no that i'm not annoying him or going to scare him off or freaking him out.

but it takes me so long to make real friends like that.

like i have this one friend. iv'e known him forEVER. like my whole life. basically we couldn't not be friends if we tried. or if he tried to ditch me i just wouldn't let him. but we're just brother/sister. i want someone who loves me.

sigh. frustrated. just ignore me. i have these days every once in a while and it passes and i'm fine for another few weeks. or days. or whatever.

just whatever.

 

so besides being bored and depressed and lonely… today i rode my bike to walmart.

yes i'm serious.

rode to walmart, got stuff like groceries and chocolate, and rode back. when i got back my roommate was back in.

own room gone. sigh. oh well.

then i went and danced for a while. that was AWESOME except it really hurt because my toe is still bloody from friday, and i'm really tight.

i was going to run too but i forgot my shorts and i didn't want to run in a skirt or a leotard. so i was like 'whatever. tomorrow.'

so now im in the dining hall and working on my book. i love this book. i really kinda wish my male protagonist was in my life :P

sigh.

</3

Questions

Another old one.

this one i started writing in a new journal and didn't realize that i was rhyming until i got to the chorus.

hah

 

 

What do you do

When all you have is questions

And every answer

Feels like a lie

 

How do you find

What you’re looking for

When you don’t know what it is

Or why you try

 

What song do you sing

When all the songs you know

Fall short of what

You need today

 

And how do you write

Your own song instead

When you don’t even know

What you’re trying to say

 

*all my questions have no answers

And no one tells me where to go

Will these questions stay unanswered

Will the rivers all still flow

Will the sun keep rising higher

Will all the stars explode

Will I ever find my answers, *

 

What do you say

When you don’t understand

What you want

Or who you are

 

How do you ask

When the words you use

Turn up empty

Every time

 

And what do you do

When you’ve written it all

There’s not a poem or song

Left to write

 

And how do you finish

The very last verse

When you can’t find words

That rhyme?

 

*All my questions have no answers

And no one tells me where to go

Will these questions stay unanswered,

Will we still have rain and snow

Will the world fall to ruins

Will volcano’s lava flow

Will I ever find my answers, *

 

* All my questions have no answers

And no one tells me where to go

Will these questions stay unanswered,

Will the dolphins dance below

Will the birds still make their nests

Will the trees for them grow

Will I ever find my answers, *

 

 

 

<3

WARNING: PMS!

over friendly people annoy me.

Ya know, sometimes i just want to sit and wallow in misery. And then some friendly person is like 'can i do anything for you' and how do you say 'no i'm just being stupid on purpose, ignore me.'

you can't, really.

and then they go and give you a free starbucks drink.

ok so maybe the starbucks guy ain't so bad after all. i was gonna get a hot cocoa at the library, but luckily i checked and they don't open until six. i would have walked all the way there and then seen the hours. and if that were the case, i probably would have started crying right then and there.

so he gave me a coffee and i forced him a few smiles. i managed to leave before i cried. have managed to keep it in thus far... well, save church service. i cried this morning. but that had nothing to do with pms.

so then i went and sat under a tree in the sun and the breeze. it was SOOOO NIIIIICE. except the sun was fading and kept sloooowwwwwlllyyy disappearing off of me and i kept having to move. by the time it was all gone i had a wet butt (it rained ALL DAY yesterday). now, i'm feeling the effects of the caffiene. granted i dind't drink all the caramel apple spice latte, but i drank enough of it for that yucky clogged feeling to come to my body. still, i didn't want to say 'sorry, i don't drink caffinated drinks.' when he made me a free coffee. i'm mean, but i'm not disrespectful or rude.

well, not most of the time anyway.

i can't decide if i want to go eat panda express leftovers in my room, or get fresh food from the dining hall, or go back to starbucks and get coffee cake, or go to the library and get hot chocolate, or go back to my dorm and work on my book, or--God forbid--study (actually studying aint so bad), or go for a run...

honestly i want to go for a run. but i've run so much lately that my knee is hurting like CRAZY.(old injury). i actually had to order keniseo text tape (which is kinda pricey) because it hurt so bad.

yes i got the waterproof kind. it lasts longer.

when my mom finds out she'll be mad at me though, because i'm allergic to the glue, and it makes little red dots show upon my knee, and then they turn into scars when i rip the tape off, then i put more on (get it? moron? that's me) and get an infection. then i have to stop using it and clean my knee with rubbing alcohol (ever put rubbing alcohol on an open wound? hurts like #$%^. honestly. moron.) and not use it for a few days, which means it'll hurt from running, and i'll never get better until i quit.

running, that is. i already quit dance.

and she'll be mad because that happened while i was dancing. she made me stop using the waterproof kind.

and i can't stop running, i like it too much.

the thing about running is...you get into a quiet place. how do you get into a quiet place when you're breathing hard, and sweating, and hearing the slap slap slap slap of your shoes and the gasp, push, gasp, push of your breathing? well... see it's like this.

when i danced, i had an interior monologue. that means i heard things--my own inner voice--telling me stuff while i danced: 'lift higher. breathe the music, feel it in your blood. float. become the character.' when i was in character, i had the thoughts the charcter would have: 'oh here, let me fix your bow. God give me a chance to fly, don't let me die please... etc.'

and when i'm sitting in one place staring at a wall (i do that quite often, actually) i hear stuff. voices.

yes i do.

what, you didn't read my diary of the depressed blog? the old one?...no?...good. it was horrible. i did stupid things when i was a kid.

moron.

and besides voices, i hear my characters. 'hey, btw, my husband dies in the sixth book. the guy needs to let up on girl for a while. she thinks her soulmate is trying to kill her. he is the bad guy, not him.'

just random stuff.

and then of course my main interior monologue is the character who stars in her own series (i won't put it up here...just in case.) and she is SO FREAKING OBNOXIOUS. at home, she'd say something and i'd laugh, and my brother would think i was laughing at him. or the like.

but not when i run.

when i run, i don't think about anything. there isn't any music (when i'm running outside). i'm not my characters, i'm not in a fantasy, i'm not thinking. i'm just me, i'm just existing in the presence, and i'm sweating my ass off. and i like it that way.

so i'm not quitting, no matter what happens to my knee. taping and alergies and dislocated kneecaps are worth it. just for a little bit of flipping silence.

this post is turning out longer than i planned.

i feel nasty too. like i'm craving oily food, but i know it won't make this sickish feeling go away. of course i'm also craving chocolate, but imma wait until the caffiene fades before getting anything tasty-ish to drink.

why is it that, when we're depressed, the worst think you can do is sit, and eat...and those are the things we do?

people are stupid

morons.

in summary, the bad side of PMS is that i feel like freaking shit. the good side is that i'm still heavy enough to have a period. because i am underweight. i fluctuate between 117-120. i'm five foot eight. that's just not good.

the whole no friends thing ain't helping my mood either. yeah i've got a few gals up here tht i know, that i like to hang out with. but nobody i would seek out time to spend with. nobody has clicked with me like that yet.

so i'm alone, sick, tired, caffinated, bored, and insanely lonely, i can't go running because i've run like...eight or ten days in a row now, and my body needs a break so i don't die, and my closest friends are five hours away.

and of course, my body is telling me i should be married with three kids by now. honestly...if i had to chose between college and a husband, i'd pick the latter.

be joyful! rejoice! be glad!

shut up.

the thing i've found about depression is that anyone depressed could get out of it if they tried hard enough. but when yuo're in a pit, you don't honestly believe it's worth the effort.

ok… i can admit to that

yeah, i don't like watching all those "happy couples" around campus. i don't like watching a guy and a girl walk with their arms around each other smiling like fools on their way to the dining hall. i don't like watching a guy sneak up behind a girl and hug her and kiss her. it bugs me.

 

is it jealously? idk. probably. well ok yeah maybe. truth be told, my body is telling me i should be married right now. i want a husband and kids.

 

but i also want to get through college without guy problems.

 

ironically, it was voldey who disagreed with me on something i held for a long time: don't get married in college. it's what i've been told for years. don't marry in college, don't marry right out of college.

 

but he disagreed, saying if you know you're going to marry someone, marry them right away. it keeps you focused.

 

yeah, that makes sense. but i haven't found a husband yet.

 

and sometimes i just have this horrible feeling like if i don't get a hug soon, i'm just going to fall apart.

 

no it's not college that brought this on.

 

maybe i just feel worse tonight than normal. it seems like everyone around me has someone special to cling to. and the only relationship i have ever had is with my cat.

 

and he doens't count.

 

<-3

Warning, offensive material ahead!

COLLEGE!

(hope I spelled that right.)

Here's the quick and dirty on the past four days.

1. My Criminal Justice teacher is freaking awesome. She would have used a different word that freaking, I'm sure you can figure it out if you think about it long enough. She cusses in class all the time. Now normally I'm offended by language, but somehow, someway, she can get away with it without being offensive. Maybe she's putting it into context? Idk. My characters in my books cuss sometimes, and it doesn't bug me. Maybe it's the same. When she talks about serial killers and crack dealers and murderers, saying shit doesn't seem abnormal.
2. I still have no idea what to expect from Internet Security and Ethics... no idea whatsoever.
3. My Literature teacher is cool!!! I can't wait for his class. He's got this prestigious look about him and he talks like he's totally at ease. which he probably is. he has so much knowledge about his field that it radiates from him, almost tangibly. when he walked into the room, it was silent. he had this aura of "I know more than you do so shut up and listen," but it was a nice respectful "shut up." he demands respect in the way he speaks and holds himself.
4. My geology teacher is cool but... shoot guys. we learned about the big bang today. and it was incredible how ironic it was. here's why: she would constantly say "does that make sense to you guys?" and yes, hypothetically i understood what she was saying. but it amazes me that the science behind the nebula theory and the creation of the earth is so illogical, anyone in the second grade could see it. and yet they're all brainwashed.

no i didn't stand up in class and ask offensive questions... here's the questions I didn't ask:

• "so you date the fossils by the rocks, and you date the rocks by the fossils. how does that work?"
• Where did the star come from that exploded and made the solar system?
• if the disk that created the planets determines which direction the planets rotate, and all the planets rotate around the sun the same way, why do some planets turn on their axis backwards?
• how did the solar wind separate the chemicals to create the planets... and why aren't all the planets made of the same materials?
  
  (btw guys, take a bunch of rock, dirt, sand, gavel, and water, put it in a jar, and swirl it. it'll be evenly distributed.)
• If Carbon dating has fixed rates and works so well, why do people have to date things over and over and over, and end up with vastly different numbers every time?
• what about the dinosaur they dated where one part of it's body was one age and the other part was several million years difference? (yeah... my leg was a little slow to die. NO.)
• how did sediments cut through rock? there would have had to be something to shake the earth or crack it to allow the sediments in there to form. something catastrophic like, say, i don't know, an earthquake, or a fault, or a FLOOD.... just sayin'.
• if trilobites only existed in the first time period and they ALL died, why did we find live ones about ten years ago?

yeah. those are the questions i didn't ask. because i don't want to make my teacher look bad in front of her class. Me? i don't have a problem with me looking bad. shoot there were probably other creationists in the room who were like "stupid." but if you're up there, and someone asks you to answer questions like that and you can't... it's embarrassing. and i'm gonna need to keep my teacher on my side if i'm gonna pass this course. let's just say im not good at science.

or i could say im good at science, but i suck at the religion of evolution.

more on that later.

So I mentioned the language thing, right? riiight. guess how many times I heard the F-bomb yesterday?!

.........waits......

I don't remember! too many times.

sigh. people are stupid.

i mean really, there are much better words than that. fiddlesticks. that's just discombobulated. oh my lillipop. what the gumbo. you can come up with some very funny catchy un-cuss words to say if you try hard enough.

but people don't like to think... not about bad words, or culture, or the arts, or religion, or science. slam a rock into a molten body of lava. does it make a planet and a moon? no. it makes a molten body of lava with a rock stuck in it until the rock dissolves.

stupids.

<3

ok… so I leave thursday

i thought i was leaving friday. turns out i’m leaving thursday.

not that i have a problem with that. the sooner, the better. i have to get out of here.

i doubt very seriously i’ll do it, but i’m trying to make some headway on my books. i have this series… the one inspired by voldemort? yeah. that one. i’m tryna finish it before i go to school….hahahhaha riiiiight.

and then there’s the one that the guy from church inspired. tryna get some headway on that.

also been thinking, will i get a chance to thank him, and make up for what i lost when i didn’t the first time? who knows. maybe i’ll never see him again. maybe i’ll publish the book and one day he’ll figure out it was him.

who knows.

trying not to stress over it. but honestly, that’s the most stressful thing about college right now. not knowing if i’ll ever see him again, ever get to actually learn what kind of person he is, know what his reaction to my thanks would be.

yeah. i’m thinking too hard again.

<?

Hairy Potter

That’s what I feel like today.

Hairy Potter

Because I don’t think I’ve shaved in a week, I need a shower, and I threw a bowl today and I’m COVERED in clay. Like… very covered. Beyond all reason covered.

It’s kinda ridiculous.

And I’m rambling. Because I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. I slept until about 2 or 3 am, then was up all night trying very hard not to think about certain people.

so yeah. I really need to go to college and get out of here.

like, now.

and I kept dreaming and waking up again… it was like I was dreaming, but lucid. I would dream and when something was happening that I didn’t like, I’d tell myself to wake up and I would. which is kinda cool.

I remember one time, I was sick and I REALLY wanted a sprite. Because when I’m sick, that’s what I drink. Sprite or ginger ale. it feels good on my throat. so I kept getting a large sprite, and almost drinking it, getting this close to a nice refreshing drink… and something would happen, like it would spill or i’d loose it or something.

I made myself wake up. then I grabbed my brother’s sprite from the fridge (keep in mind I never do that… and it’s like 3:30 am) and drank the whole thing. suffice to say mon frere was not all that happy about me drinking his sprite. but man did it feel good!

and I’m reading this silly book right now. It’s called Darcy’s Voyage. it’s a re-write of Pride and Prejudice, where Elizabeth gets sick and Darcy marries her so she can have his wonderful living quarters without risking her reputation. Which I think was silly because he should have just given up his room for her. … but the other thing was, he’s tall and handsome and all these girls are after him… so he got married and put an end to it. of course he promised lizzy he’d have it annulled when they got home and nobody would ever know… but now he’s falling in love with her. it’s a funny cute story. not sure if I like it yet or not.

but i definitely like Mr. Darcy. Always have. Always will.

Haven’t found him yet. Still looking… haven’t found him yet.

<3

I mean what I say… I say what I mean!

I was reading Alice in Wonderland and Philosophy.  it’s really cool, ended up enjoying it more than I thought i would. Cool book in my library at home.

This little piece is printed.

“Then you should say what you mean,” the March Hare sent on.

“I do,” Alice hastily replied; “at least—at least I mean what I say—that’s the same thing, you know.”

“Not the same thing a bit!” said the Hatter. “You might just as well say that ‘I see what I eat’ is the same thing as “i eat what I see’!”

and it’s very true. You have to be careful of your words all the time, especially with subject/predicate confusion, and definitions of words.

For instance.

You probably have a different definition of the word “Evolution” than I do. I believe in Evolution.

Because there are seven definitions of the word, and I believe in two of them.

Five of them are things like Cosmic evolution, Stellar evolution etc. the evolution of things that are not scientific. One is Micro evolution, changes within a species. that’s science.

The other is just the word, and it means—to me—change. change of anything: a relationship, a personality, your body aging, a viewpoint, a story etc.

Amazing what thoughts Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland can bring up, ain’t it?

How I do love Alice.

If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn’t. And contrary-wise, what it is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?

Meow!

In my world, you wouldn't say “Meow.” you’d say, “Yes miss Alice.”

Meow!

Oh but you would! You’d be just like people, Dinah. And all the other animals too.

Why in my world…

cats and rabbits/
would reside in fancy little houses/
and be dressed in shoes and hats and trousers/

in a world of my own

all the flowers/
would have very extra-special powers/
they would sit and talk with me for hours/

when I’m lonely in a world of my own

There’d be new-birds/
lots of nice and friendly howdy-do birds/
everyone would have a dozen blue birds!

within that world of my own

I could listen to a babbling brook… and here a song that I could understand.

I keep wishing… it could be that way…

because my world would be a wonderland…

Probably one of my favorite songs.

<3