My Savage Beast.

It's once again around that time of the night where I am procrastinating sleep. And of course, like all nights, I am keeping myself busy with pointless things to do. One of these pointless things is washing my pillow and blanket, along with the bear that my best friend Shane gave to me on the day of my graduation. He told me that he figured I would be getting a lot of graduation bears, so he gave me a Valentines Day one instead. It has hearts on its ears and feet with a red bow tied around its neck, and it's the cutest bear I have ever seen. I named it my Savage Beast since I love irony, and every night since May 28, I've slept with it by my side. At first it was to comfort me as Shane left for Cali so that I didn't feel so alone while he was gone. But after that, I just couldn't bear (haha) not to sleep with it. It's gotten to the point where if I lay down at night and don't have it, I notice that something is missing. My arms feel empty, and suddenly I go into panic mode, tearing the place up until I find it. Funny, how such a simple stuffed animal can cause so much anxiety.

Tonight, as I was putting my blanket and pillow in the washer, I took a good, long look at my bear. Should I wash it? I asked myself. I decided to smell it, and it didn't smell bad. Maybe not tonight, I thought. But then I took another look at it. It used to be snow white, and now it was starting to lose that beautiful color. The fur was becoming dull, and with great sadness, I put him in with my other sleeping items. My little Savage, submerged in water... I was going to drown the poor thing. I closed the lid and looked at all of the dials for the washer, turning them to the right settings. I was going to set the speed to normal, but then I thought about Savage in the water. So tiny and fragile. I switched the knob to delicate, because he was delicate to me. I did not want to imagine him being thrashed around against the sides of the machine. Now I think about him in there and remind myself that he's a stuffed animal. But I love him, and that makes a difference. I love him because Shane gave him to me, and because I know Shane loves me just as I love him. Our friendship is special, and I feel like when I have the bear while he isn't around, he still is. It puts my mind at ease.

Shane is a special guy to me. I'm realizing tonight as he visits his dad across the United States that he's the only one that I can really talk to about what's going on in my life. He's the only friend I can trust, and the only one who I feel really listens to me and knows what to say, even if I don't want to hear the truth. He's the only one who makes promises that I know he'll keep. He's the only one who calls me just to talk about his day, and someone who would rather see me than text me. That's special to me. And even now, I'm wanting to call him and tell him about my day, how I feel, what's going on. I find it amazing how much I miss him with it only being 2 days since his departure, and it's hard to talk to someone who is many miles away and has little to no communication. But I think that's when you know you have a good friendship; when you drive yourself crazy because there is no one else to sane you down because they aren't here to do it. I think that keeping those people on your mind and looking forward to them returning this badly proves just how much you, alone, can't get through life. You need help sometimes.

I wait for Savage to finish up washing, but I also know that he will be awhile because he is delicate and he needs special care. I can relate him to the friendship Shane and I both share, because although we can be pretty crazy together and laugh at things that shouldn't even be that funny, we have the same delicacy as Savage does. We are breakable. We do care too much sometimes. And we need a special setting just as Savage does. I know that if either of us ever abused the other, we'd completely fall apart. And that's what I feared tonight as I set Savage into the washer. I feared that the water would not be kind, that the machinery would not be kind, and that it would tear him apart limb by limb. Still, even if it did happen, I would fix him to the best of my ability, and I would love him just the same as before.

I think that we need to step back and really appreciate the bears in our lives. The ones who need unconditional love even if they fall apart. The ones who try to show a rough exterior but have soft, raw insides. Some might say I'm too old for a bear. But I love him, and you're never too old to love.

I hope to someday look at my bear; look at it and see that it's falling apart, but know that it's only doing so because I loved it to pieces. And then I hope to look at the friendship Shane and I have, to look at us growing older and wearing down, and realize that it's only because we loved each other through the rough and the fun times; to know that we lived a little and never gave up on each other. I want to know that I have a friendship that will carry me through all of the time that I need it, and that it will always keep. I need a promise to depend on; something that can't shatter into a million pieces like I'm used to.


I'm amazed that such a small stuffed animal has become such a huge part of my life; such a huge comfort to have around, and what amazes me the most is the wonderful person who gave it to me. Without him, I don't know what I'd ever do, and I'm so thankful that I've finally found a person who doesn't mind me at my worst. It's because of Shane that I can smile again, because now I know that I have someone who will stick by my side, even if there is nothing left of me, and that's all I've ever really needed. So thanks, Shane, for always making the time to be here. I couldn't ask for anything better than our friendship.

"Stand up for what's right, even if you're the only one standing."

I’ve dealt with a lot of emotional abuse growing up. Ever since preschool, I have preferred being alone. Dealing with things on my own. I used to sit by myself and play with my imagination and any toys nearby. For the longest time, my teacher thought something was wrong with me. My mom reassured her that I was okay and that I preferred being on my own because I was too shy. I was on a softball team as well, and the girls would always try to find ways to get me out, even if I didn’t break any rules. I made it through the season playing in the dirt outfield and letting softballs roll right past my feet. The girls probably hated me for that. Then I went into kindergarten and was also a part of Brownie Girl Scouts. The only problem was that all the girls were a grade above me (the same girls on my softball team), and they hated me. They didn’t have to say it for me to believe it. They would shoot mean looks at me and make fun of me all the time. One of the girls was nice, but whenever I would be invited to her sleepovers, all of the other girls would care less that I showed up. I would literally stand at the front door, ring the doorbell, listen to the girls on the other side all chant, “Who is it?! Who is it?!” excitedly, and as soon as they would open the door and see me, they would say, “Oh. It’s just Stephanie.” Then they would walk away, leaving me with rejection. I even went home one night because no one would talk to me. They just let me sit by myself and let me feel left out.  

First grade came, and that was no picnic either. There was a girl named Jordan who was the meanest little girl you could ever meet. She always used to scream and complain, and during snack time, if she forgot her snack, she’d ask people if they would share. Being the nice person I was (and also looking for acceptance), I would give her my snack bag, and she would return it to me with only crumbs. During recess, if we played any game that involved running and tagging people out, she was always the first one to go because she was too slow. And she would scream in your face for it too. I had a screaming contest with her once and won. It was awesome. She had hit me a couple times too. I don’t really remember her doing it, but my mom told me that I came home one night with a handprint on my arm, and I had told her that Jordan hit me. I never lied then, and I guess it’s hard to remember because I blocked it from my memory. But she always bullied me, all the way up until 3^rd grade when I moved. The only real friends I had from 2^nd to 3^rd grade were Chris and Jessica, and they always knew how to make me laugh or smile. I have happy memories from grade school too, but the bullying and the emotional damage really took a toll on me.

Grade school continued on after I moved out to O’Fallon. I went to another Catholic school. Little did I know that the kids would be worse. I fit in fine the first year there because I had joined the soccer team for some acceptance. This is when I was really beginning to find out that sports were not my thing, and I had no experience being on the field at all. I would show up at practice and be fine, but on game days, the coach would push me out onto the field and give me a certain field position. I would become confused and ask where the position was, and he would point and then send me out there. Now, I don’t know about you, but I think pointing can only do a person good if there is something you can narrow down as you point to it. He was just pointing in a general direction. So I would hold my breath, run out, and hope for the best. Once I quit soccer, I noticed at school that there were a small group of guys that fit my style. They could draw. They liked country music. They laughed at stupid humor. Yes. This was where I belonged. So, with eagerness, I befriended them, but then suddenly I became a reject. No one really had much interest in me, and no matter how hard I tried to be friends with other people, it never did me much good. Sure, I won’t lie when I say that there were a lot of really nice people. But that’s all they were. Nice. They didn’t want to be friends. They didn’t want to hang out with me because why would anyone want to hang out with a reject? The boys would ask me out for laughs, and they would make sure that I knew it was a joke. One of them was pretty persistent throughout 7^th and 8^th grade, and to this day, I don’t know if he was being serious or not, and it was because of the jokes. I could never tell real from fake, and by the time 7^th and 8^th grade hit, I was in a very dark place. I was never happy. I would try to give my two cents whenever we had to work in groups, but no one ever had much interest in listening to my ideas. I would sit by myself at recess and watch the other kids play because I felt like I would never fit in. I ate lunch by myself and separated myself from the students because I was tired of being the joke. I was tired of being an unaccepted person. Why try if you’re going to end up alone, anyway? I began to dress in all black when I would get home. I would lock myself in my room and talk to my friend Jake on the phone about how I felt. He was always the one to make me feel better, but I could never have that reassurance that I craved. This is when I began to write songs, and soon, my writing became my way out.

We had a scavenger hunt one day (I forgot when it was, I think near the end of 7^th grade), and I had shown up for it. But no group wanted me. I was singled out, waiting for someone to put me in a group. Once the groups were all sorted, I was still standing there waiting. Had my mother not said anything, they wouldn’t have put me in a group at all. I would have been left there, hurt and alone. Because I knew I wasn’t wanted, I didn’t even want to be in the pictures. All the girls in my group would pose and be goofy, and I would stand off to the side with my hands behind me, smiling. Unwanted. That was all I could think of that day. Unwanted. The only thing I wanted to do the whole time was go home.

I joined cheerleading in 8^th grade because it was a tradition. I would come home from practices and practice my cheers, and I was constantly clapping and chanting around the house. But even though I was in cheer and I had the trust of my flyer, whenever practice would end, a lot of the time the girls would all talk about going to McDonalds or Dairy Queen after. Most of them would go, but I was never invited. This was another emotional toll on my heart, and my feelings would begin to crush me again. Near the end, I quit the squad. The girls would all talk about me quitting, along with a few others who couldn’t get the dance down right away, but I stopped caring at that point, because there was no point in caring anymore. I was unbelievably depressed. By the time graduation hit, I didn’t get out on the dance floor. I didn’t dance with all my other classmates. I missed out on slow dancing with guys who could have been my friends had I not been the butt of their jokes. When everyone gathered with each other for pics, I stayed clear of them. And when they gathered in a circle for the song “Graduation” by VitaminC, I didn’t even think about joining in on their little crying fest. I was glad that it was finally over.

High school was a fresh start. But since I was so used to being ignored and being silent, I stayed clear of talking to people. I didn’t wanna make friends. I just wanted to stay quiet the entire 4 years of my life and do everything that I was told. However, the people there made the task impossible, and for the first time ever, I was starting to make friends. I even developed a stupid crush on a boy who didn’t care about me, and I ended up falling hard for him. I guess that was my bad boy phase. Thank God it’s over. But anyway, the guy I liked always let me down. He would be nice to me to my face at school and outside of it, but we never really did have conversations. He would always text me through my friend’s phone and make me think we were friends, and then he would let me down. I began seeing through his tricks after a while and stopped caring. It was one of the worst heartaches I’ve ever had to deal with, and I would go into details about how I felt through everything, but it would be too painful to go back and do that. I will tell you that one night I woke up having trouble breathing because I had a dream about him, and it felt as though someone had ripped a hole into my chest. I laid there that morning trying to breathe, and I was curled up, hurting. It was the worst I had ever felt before, and since then, I have completely closed up to the idea of falling in love, and really falling into it. I never wanted to deal with that kind of hurt and deceit again.

Sophomore year was probably the worst year for me. I had finally developed a nice circle of friends, but I was feeling really negative about one of them. This is when my empathy gradually began to increase. I just had a feeling that this girl was trouble, and sure enough, she was. I found out she was a liar, and she was always being mean to my guy friends or hitting on them. She lied about a lot of her bf’s because she was that desperate to be in a relationship, and I complained about her all the time to two of my other girlfriends at the time. When they got tired of hearing it, I took the dilemma to the bulletin board on Myspace (for those of you who remember what that is, I give you kudos). I never said her name directly, but she filled in the blanks and turned my friends against me. They stopped talking to me, and after a lot of apologizing, I decided to write said trouble girl a letter. She ripped it up and lied to my friends once more about what I said, and by that point, I was just done. So I gave up on them and began to involve myself in NHS. I also joined Environmental Club that year and kept finding things to keep me busy. I interacted with classmates whom I had never talked to before. By the time I learned the ropes to the whole communication thing, I was ready for junior year.

Junior year was one of my better years. I was communicating a lot more with my classmates, making friends and cracking jokes. I actually began looking forward to school each morning that I woke up, and what was even better about it was that my creative writing teacher revived my writing side of me. I began to chug things out like crazy. Poems. Songs. Stories. My thoughts. I was becoming a better person, and I realized that the only thing keeping me from being happy was myself. My barrier finally came down, and I was no longer scared of my own shadow. I could move on and deal with my own ordeals. However, the good Lord giveth, and the good Lord taketh away. My second semester of junior year consisted of my very first taste of cyber bullying. At the time, everyone was getting Formspring accounts. These accounts allowed people to ask you questions either signed in, or anon. Of course, it was always more fun to do it anon. But I soon found out that anon could be a bad thing too, because I started getting hate comments. People began telling me that I dressed like a hobo, and that I needed to clean myself up and stop talking about being fat on FB (which I wasn’t doing in the first place. I was just talking about me exercising whenever I finished up with it). They also said that I needed to get rid of my acne. These comments were constantly being found in my inbox, and at first I began answering them back. But eventually I just stopped. It was starting to take a toll on me, and finally I just quit logging into Formspring. The hate, after some time, began to die down, and it only died down because I kept telling myself to ignore what was being said. It was a difficult time for me, but I was grounded enough to know that it didn’t matter what people thought. No one was brave enough to tell me what they thought of me face to face, and if they couldn’t do that, then why should I care? I also thought it was pretty funny that I had haters I didn’t even know about. If it wasn’t for Formspring, I would not have found that out.

I also met a pretty amazing girl during my junior year. We shared a creative writing class together and became attached at the hip. She came over to my house a few times, and I went to hers a few times too. We mostly hung out at school, but we were constantly around each other. I began to get very unhealthily attached, and that was due to my empathy. By the time creative writing ended, she began to distance herself from me. This distance left me depressed for the longest time. I felt like I was losing one of my best friends. By the end of that year, I finally accepted the fact that our friendship wasn’t what I thought it was. Although I had been through a lot with her, I had to find my way and find myself. I couldn’t do that by knowing only one person. I wish I could explain to you guys how depressed I felt. It was horrible and miserable, almost like someone died. I again felt that heartache in my chest, the pain that turns physical on you and there’s nothing you can do about it.

My senior year was the year in which I felt like things were going downhill. Although I had developed some better fashion, I didn’t have as many friends around as I used to. I had a couple very close friends that I hung out with that year, but one of them stabbed me in the back in the end. I would wake up each morning not looking forward to school. I would go through the day feeling bored. Nothing was worth getting up for. That is, until I met Shane. He became one of my best and closest friends, and to this day, we still are. He always gave me reasons to smile, and he would come over and hang out on movie nights. We rode the same bus and always joked around in our Digital Art class. The more time we spent together, the closer we became. He was and still is the only boy who really cares about me, and I can tell him anything in confidence.

However, my other friend who I had known since freshman year began treating me like crap my second semester. I had written a song back in 7^th grade that I wanted to perform at the talent show, and she had agreed to compose music for it. However, she didn’t stick to her word and she never got the music done. I had to actually ask her if she wanted to do it or not in order to get a “no”. And then she said how happy she was that I had told her it was okay if she didn’t want to do it. However, it really hurt my feelings. I had been depending on her to pull through for me. My dreams for the talent show died after that. She started to develop horrible mood swings too, and would always bitch about pointless things that weren’t a big deal. She began to get too comfortable with me and seemed to think that it was okay to be assertive to my family. However, what really pushed me over the edge was that I told her I wanted to ask Shane to prom, and instead of letting me, she asked him when I wasn’t even around. I found out coronation night (which I went to just for her, cuz coronation is stupid, and Shane went for me cuz he knew I didn’t wanna go). When she told me she had asked him and he said he would go, I was in disbelief. I spent a lot of time in the bathroom, too upset to think straight. Shane actually had to tell her to check on me. Shows how concerned she was. She and I got into a huge fight about it and we stopped talking to each other. After a good two months of no speaking, she finally decided to talk to me, but it was only because she wanted to come with me and Shane to prom (I guess so her and her sister would have someone to hang out with). I agreed, and I knew she was being fake to me so she could get what she wanted. All of prom night, she stared at my corsage and was in a rotten mood, and I didn’t feel the least bit sorry for her. She had completely back-stabbed me and hurt me like no other friend has before. She even complained about the situation after Prom was long over, and continued to make up stories about it to get people on her side. She had told one of her friends that she was going to surprise me by bringing Shane to prom that night, which I knew was a lie because I found out on coronation night. One of the girls on my bus finally went off on her for her constant complaining, and she shut up. This was the girl I had been friends with for four years, and she was going to frame me for ruining prom? I guess that’s what hurt me the most, how she could never be honest with me. She always had to do things deviously. By the time I graduated, I only had a few true friends who had stuck by my side through everything I went through.

I’m in college now, and I’m beginning to realize that I don’t have to take shit from people. I’ve dropped a lot of my old high school friends because they brought high school to college with them, and I’m tired of being a kid. I want to grow up and be happy, and now, if someone tries to degrade me or tries to hurt me, I take control and tell them how it is. I don’t deal with shit that shouldn’t be meant to deal with, and just reading this, I can see that I’ve come a long way. I’m starting to achieve my dreams through what I write, and I am learning that I can change anything in my life that I want to change as long as I have the bravery to do so. If you want to lie to me or to other people, you can bet your ass that I’ll call you out on it the first chance I get. If you try to be sneaky, I’ll call that out too. I’m not letting people get away with shit anymore, and even though I can be a very nice and forgiving person, if you do something I don’t think is right, I don’t stay quiet anymore. I cannot stand injustice because I’ve dealt with it all my life, and seeing other people go through it is heartbreaking. I think that when it boils down to it, karma does bite you. You receive what you dish out, and I’m finally receiving the justice I was never given. I really hope that karma has bitten the people who have treated me the ways they did, and I hope those people have grown up and learned that it isn’t their world. Other people live on it.

I don’t stand for bullying. I don’t stand for racism. I don’t stand for talking people down. I don’t stand for hurtful actions or comments. But I do stand up for justice, and even though people don’t like me for it, at least I can achieve it.

I remember seeing a sign hanging up in my old school that said, “Stand up for what’s right, even if you’re the only one standing.” I finally have an appreciation for that simple phrase, and because of me standing up, I am changing the world and making it a better place. So, I challenge you to stand up. Stand up when you see injustice, and when you see what isn’t right. Make it right, and make it just. Stand up for the truth, for the silent do-gooders, for those who know pain and who deal with it without pointing fingers. Stand up for the people who are cutting, starving, or those who are silent and without a voice. People in this world need other people to show them that it’s okay to stand, because the more people who do, the more easily we can spot the problems and fix them.

Thanks for reading. I love you all, even if some of you were mean to me. I’m going to assume karma got to you by now. And if not, well, it will eventually. You just wait and see.

And if you're a bully, just keep one thing in mind. The bullied always come out on top. Always.

A day in the life of a sleep deprived Stephanie.

I haven't blogged for... how long has it been? Not that long, but it sure feels like it. I'm also really tired, which isn't helping anything. Haha. I don't think it's a good idea for me to be blogging when I can't seem to comprehend any of the words that my mom is trying to string together in a sentence. She's tired too. Also, my eyes hurt. Hmm. Lets start from the beginning.

I had my friend (lets call her glasses) spend the night last night. We stayed up until 4 in the morning watching tv, and when we decided to sleep, we turned the tv off and laid down like we were supposed to. However, in the silence, I began to think of things to talk about. So of course, I began to babble, and then glasses started to talk, and somewhere along the way, I found a hole in my pillow and pulled all of the stuffing out. It was all flat and was also colored brown. Brown stuffing? Since when is stuffing brown? Anyway, I fluffed it all back up by tearing pieces apart, and then stuffed it all back into my pillow. It was heaven to sleep on. Lol. And no, I'm not wacko. I'm Stephanie.

This morning (I started to type this smorning lol) I woke up idk when, and glasses was just sitting on my sofa wide awake. I remember looking at her and wondering why she was awake, and then rolled over and fell asleep again. I woke up once more around one p.m., and she was still on the sofa just sitting. I said, "How can you be up and wide awake?" She just shrugged and said, "I don't know. I'm not tired." Of course, I didn't wanna go back to sleep if my guest was up. So I stayed up and then she got a call from her mom asking to come home and help her. After she left, I was going to go back to sleep, but of course, that wasn't going to happen. Instead, my brother asked me to make him something to eat because he was hungry, and my mom was telling me things I needed to do while she took clothes to my aunt's work to donate. She was also asking me questions, and being as crabby as I was, I just wanted to go back to bed. What was worse was that each time I responded to my mom or each time she told me something to do, she'd say "please" and "thank you" all sweetie-pie like. Now, when I'm crabby, it's bad enough to expect me to complete tasks that you want me to do. It's even worse if you're using please and thank you, because it doesn't make me any more keen to do it. I don't think, Well at least he/she is being polite. I think, shut the fuck up, bitch. I don't wanna deal with you right now and I will rip your face off and chop it into pieces. Gruesome enough? Sleepy Stephanie isn't a very friendly person.

So my mom left, and I was on the couch thinking about whether I should really make my brother something to eat or not. After an hour, I decided to (but only because I was beginning to get hungry, and food wasn't sounding too bad). I mixed up some pancake batter and made a pile of pancakes, and after my bro and I ate, I took a shower. After I got out, I decided that I would heat up the eye liner because someone told me that it lasts longer that way. Little did I know just how difficult it was going to be to get off. So I took a lighter and fired it up, and then I held the eye liner over it (just enough to slightly melt the top). I then blew on it to make sure I wouldn't burn my skin (because I wasn't that stupid), and began to put it on. It was going great up until I drew it on too thick. Now, usually it's easy to wet a Q-tip and rub that stuff off. But after heating it, I didn't realize that it made it nearly impossible to work with. So my Q-tip method wasn't working. It was at that point when I just decided to wash it all off. However, I wasn't thinking very clearly because I was sleep deprived. So I took some soap and a wash cloth and scrubbed the liner off, but I scrubbed until my eyes were red, stinging, and puffy.

 I went and got out another wash cloth and ran it under cold water, and then laid down and put it over my eyes. It felt pretty good. But then I realized that I probably could have used baby oil and avoided the whole painful ordeal. Of course it was after I scrubbed my eyes raw that I thought of it, because that's how it always works. Lol.

So after a while of laying down, my mom came home and we went and picked up tall hair. He told me he had been shopping for my Christmas present the day before (with no luck because nothing was "Stephanie worthy), and then found the perfect thing to get me today. So we got to my house and exchanged presents. He made me open his first, and he had two things wrapped. The first one was a rainbow elephant that he found at Earthbound (my FAVORITE store because it's soooo me) and I absolutely love elephants.

My second gift was smaller, and at first I thought that maybe it was a necklace or something. But when he set it in my hand, it felt heavy. At first I had no idea what it was. But as I began to unwrap it, I could tell that it was beginning to feel like an iPod. Sure enough, when I opened it, an iPod touch was sitting in my hand. He told me that it was his old one that he lost and it had a camera and FaceTime on it so that we could video chat when we had those "I miss you" moments. I was in shock!

After I got done opening my presents, I gave tall hair his. My mom and I had bought him pajama jeans because I knew he had been wanting them ever since I've known him. It was so cute when he opened them because he got all excited and then couldn't stop laughing because of his excitement. I watched him head back to my bathroom in a joyous trance and he changed into them right away. They fit him perfectly and he wore them the rest of the night. We also went to the theater to see Hugo (which was a great movie!) It got a little off track when it came to what the focus of the movie was supposed to be, but the story line was great. I think one of the greatest and most memorable things said in it was, "I'd imagine the whole world was one big machine. Machines never come with any extra parts, you know. They always come with the exact amount they need. So I figured if the entire world was one big machine, I couldn't be an extra part. I had to be here for some reason. And that means you have to be here for some reason too." Definitely a very inspiring movie to watch. I would buy it in a heartbeat. 


After the movie, tall hair and I went out into the lobby to wait for my mom to come. We were sitting down and laughing because we were so tired and slap-happy that we couldn't control ourselves. We were sure that some people probably thought we were drunk or high. Haha. There was a little Wehrenberg ticket screen thing out there that kept singing "Ba ba ba ba, ba ba ba ba ba ba, ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba, Wehrenberg! Wehrenberg theaters!" over and over and over again. I began to wonder how the people who worked at the ticket booth could stand listening to that thing all day. I would have broken it had I been working there! I even considered punching it a few times. So tall hair and I were making jokes about it. We were also just randomly making up funny scenarios that could happen at a movie theater, and by the time my mom picked us up, my cheeks were wet with tears and tall hair was laughing hysterically.  We then went to McDonalds because I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast (or brunch, whatever you wanna call it). So we ordered our food and they got the order wrong. When they gave us the right food, we realized they only gave tall hair a 4 piece chicken nugget instead of a 6 piece, and they didn't give him his ranch. Not going back to that one again. After eating, we dropped him off and then came home. My mom made some Christmas food and she just turned in for the night. 


I'm just waiting on this iPod download to finish and then I'm going to bed too. Tall hair is logged into his email and his FaceTime on it, and idk how to log out. It doesn't have a log out button! Haha. Oh gawd. I'll be okay. I'm surprised I typed this much and that it all makes sense, because I feel like my body is going to give out on me any second here.


I'm also making some important choices that I plan to put in affect during 2012 involving friendships. It's going to be a little messy and stressful, but I know I'll be able to get through it. 


Well, this is the part where I wrap things up and say goodnight. I'm sorry I didn't have anything too interesting to type about tonight. I usually do. I have a few ideas planned for my upcoming blogs, but I'm going to keep thinking of things that my audience can relate to reading (or will just enjoy reading). I wish you all a very Merry Christmas Eve, and for the atheists and other religions who don't celebrate Christmas, um, Happy Hanukkah (I hope I spelled that right), happy holidays, happy snow season, happy "I don't believe in Christ season", whatever floats your boat. 


G'night.

Well now, Catholicism, aren't you the little contradicting demon?

Hey guys! So I found out about something today that probably raised my blood pressure a little higher than usual. Who knows though? I'm no doctor, and if I was, people would be in a shit ton of trouble. Hehe.

Now, a lot of people know that I used to be Catholic, and that I don't consider myself to be that religion anymore. However, my mom still makes me go to church on Sunday, even if I don't want to. In fact, it's the last place I'd like to be with the way it frustrates me. Today was one of those Sundays where I just wish I could have stayed home. But unfortunately I couldn't. So when they were making the announcements before everything started, I heard them say something about a Glee Christmas Spectacular. I thought, What in the world? After mass, my mother grabbed a bulletin, and this picture happened to be inside of it.

Now, I blocked out all of the details as to when it is because I'm no sellout. But it made me soooo frickin pissed. Why, you ask? First off, they used the actual logo, which I'm pretty sure is against copyright laws. Second, why in God's name are they promoting a Glee event? Last I heard, the church was against teenage pregnancy, gays, student/teacher relationships, sex before marriage, teenage drinking, and must I go on? When I was going to school at this specific church, they were completely against us straying off of the path that they thought was the right way to go. I remember that they tried so frickin hard to make us good little children, and each time any of my classmates got in an argument with the teachers, the students were the ones getting in trouble because they weren't taking the crap that the Catholic faith was pushing on us. I managed to be one of the good little girls (and I laugh as I say that, because I was the most innocent one out of everybody in that school), and when I got into high school, even I strayed off of that perfect path for a while. And now as I sit here thinking about that hell hole school, I realize that I was never happy there. Man, if I had the backbone then that I do now, they would have hated me sooooo much, and I'm dead serious. I actually have said some pretty nasty things due to my disagreements with people, and I'm not too well liked when that side of me comes out. But what I'm getting at is, I don't understand how my past Catholic school could even have the audacity to promote this "Glee Christmas Spectacular" when it's everything that they're completely against. You see, it may not be a big deal to you, but it is to me. When I started attending high school, being friends with people who did do things that the Catholic faith was against is what made me the person that I am today, and these people have helped me develop the abilities that are going to help me face the real world. The Catholic faith (to me) seems so "la-dee-da I have no idea what's going on in today's society" about everything. If I would have gone to a Catholic high school, God help me, I would have been stuck in that innocent, la-dee-da phase FOREVER. Just, URGGG. Really pisses me off.

So, you little demon church, this is why I hate you and would rather spend my Sundays sleeping in. You promote things you are against. You contradict yourself. And you made my middle school years the worst years of my life.

I feel sorry for the children attending that school right now. I hope they aren't being bullied like I was, and I hope that they don't get sucked into the evils of drugs and alcohol like so many of my classmates have. It just isn't worth it. If I could, I'd tell them all to run, and as fast as they can. Catholic school makes everything worse. And I'll be damned if I ever say anything good about that church. But hey, that's just my opinion.

"But we try too hard and it's a waste of my time." -Pink

Today has been a complete lazy day for me. I haven't had a day like this in a while, where I haven't needed to worry about anything. Already thinking about what all I have to do is stressing me out. Don't you hate knowing there's never really time to yourself anymore? What I'd give to be back in kindergarten and not have to worry for awhile!!

Anyway, last night I purchased Glee's cover of "Perfect" (originally sung by Pink) and I've been listening to it nonstop. I began to think more and more about the meaning of the lyrics each time I listened to it, and it really jump-started my brain. So many people have tried to tear me down over the years of growing up. Even now, there are people that judge me based on my outer appearance and on the choices I choose to make for myself. You don't have to tell me that I wear the same sweatpants all the time, and God forbid I wear the same T-shirt four or five times over the course of a month. No, it does not mean I'm running short on clothes. I've actually donated 4 trash bags full because there was not enough room in my closet for them, and I need to go through them AGAIN because there's still not enough room!! Now, I never said my clothes were top fashion (because I don't have the time and money for that), but they keep me covered, and they keep me warm. Isn't that what matters? I know I wear the same shoes every single day. You know why? I only need one pair!! Sure, there are some girls out there that have an entire collection of shoes, but why? Isn't it good enough that you have at least one pair covering your feet? 'Cause come on, shoes are expensive, and if you outgrow them or lose a foot size or two (and yes, it is possible), then you're just shit out of luck. So I get around with what I own. Makeup? Chyeah, don't need much of that either. I like to wear eye makeup to bring out my eyes because I love eye color. But I don't do that foundation/base, powder, blush stuff. My pores already suffer enough without that junk covering them up, and it would just make my acne worse. Why torture my skin? Plus, all of those models and celebrities that you see in magazines who look absolutely perfect? Totally fake. They airbrush that shit and make all of these changes to the appearance on the computer so that they appear to be "perfect". I hate society's view of perfect because it is unobtainable. I'd rather be myself!

I also find it funny that people are so flabbergasted when I tell them I'm a virgin or a pescatarian. They seem to make it this big deal that isn't even affecting them. Why are you worrying about my sex life and about my diet? How is that affecting who you are and what you do? If I go out and eat a shit ton of meat and have sex with every guy on the street, will that make you happier? Knowing I'm a whore? Of course it will, because that's what you are. And you're jealous that I'm not, because you gave in. It would make you feel better if you had a friend like that too, because you wouldn't feel so alone. Well guess what? It's a lonely world. You know how hard it is for a virgin to meet another virgin this day in age? Pretty dang hard!! So don't be complaining to me about my choices. I'm not trying to make you feel bad about yourself, and I don't appreciate the heat I'm getting because of how I live. I'm just showing you who I am.

I guess what I'm getting at is that the more people who get mad at me for being me, the more encouraged I am to keep up whatever it is that I'm doing. Obviously if it's bothering this many people, then I'm doing something right. I'm making myself desirable among many. I'm causing jealousy to tear through people. And I'm showing them that I have patience, something that no one has anymore. In a way, I'm a valuable species. There aren't many of us left. Me and the small amount of others like me are the only ones who know how to take it slow and wait it out, and we're the only ones who know how to say no and to tell you how it is. We're the only ones who can call you out on what you're doing, and have no dirt for you to use against us. Face it, you're jealous. You're jealous that I can be who I am and not conform to society's expectations and temptations. You're jealous that I'm happy with who I am and what I want, and that nothing can tear me down anymore. You wish you could have said no. You wish you could be proud of what you see in the mirror. You wish you could go out in public without having to slather a bunch of gunk all over your face to make society appreciate you. And you wish you could listen to Pink's song, "Perfect", and feel so sure of yourself while you're listening to it.

This is such a short life to live. I don't want to live mine unhappy and trying to please everyone all the time. If we all realized that we are all trying to impress each other while wishing we could just be who we are without the judgment, then shit, just stop worrying!! No one likes trying to make themselves look attractive and perfect and a size zero and no acne and with perfect hair and expensive clothing, and we need to get a grasp on the reality of life. It's never perfect. I think that if everyone could just let that vision of society's "perfect" go and just be Pink's version of "Perfect", this world could be a whole lot happier. I'm not saying don't shower and dress in 3 day old clothing or anything, because then you are getting kinda gross, my friend. But just stop trying to obtain the unobtainable. There's a difference between trying to impress others, and trying to look healthy for your body's own benefit. Stop sending yourself through the wringer every day and be okay with yourself. I've been working at it for 19 years and haven't failed yet. Sure, some people may get all uptight and upset about your choices, but it's your life, not theirs. They'll get over it eventually. And if they don't, well, it's their problem. They wanna be shallow? Fine. But I like being deep within myself and within other people, because that's where the true beauty lies. You'd be surprised with just how much internal beauty changes the outer appearance of a person. Be Pink's "Perfect" for once. You may be surprised with how empowering it feels.

"Those who matter don't mind, and those who mind don't matter." -Dr. Seuss

It's nearing 3 in the morning, and my friend Saba just left my house. For some reason, people have such a hard time actually being motivated enough to leave, even if there's a curfew involved. I find it both hilarious and meaningful. :P

Whenever Saba and I are hanging out together, I just feel tons better about myself, my life, and my choices. We have such deep and meaningful conversations that actually make me think, and even though we can spend a good 3 or 4 hours talking, it never feels like a long enough time. It's so great to have someone there to listen to me and to help me gain new perspectives on my life, and I feel like a completely new person whenever she leaves.

I've talked about people breaking promises before. I talk about it quite often because it's such a constant occurrence for me. But with her, it's just different. She's probably the most mature person I know, and I can plainly see that she is never out to cause drama or to do anything that would purposely hurt anyone. She's one of the few who have perfected the art of listening and contributing, just as a conversation should be, and we're both at that age now where we're starting to agree on a lot of the same viewpoints. It's nice to know someone who shares that same perspective with me and can see things the same ways that I do. Sharing a mind is a beautiful thing.

The only other person who I feel doesn't (and never will) break off that special bond with me is my friend Shane. It's just one of those things where we feel like we've known each other forever, and just the thought of me doing anything shitty to him hurts me. I finally have someone who is always there when I need an ear or a hug, and someone who makes sure that he makes the time to see me and to call me. No one ever talks on the telephone anymore. It's kind of sad. So whenever he calls, I consider it a special "us" time to talk about our days and to share stories. I hate losing touch with people, but with him, I never have to worry. Not having to worry is pretty nice for once!

After feeling so upset earlier, I realize now that the people who matter most are always going to make sure there's time to spend with me. I may not have many true friends, but the ones that I do have are always going to be around to talk to when I need them the most.

I would write more, but I'm so tired. So I'm going to head to bed. G'night, you beautiful readers.

Just as phony as a three dollar bill.

Does anyone know the feeling of being left behind? You know, kind of like a puppy that was kicked by its owner and left to suffer? I do. I go through it all the time. Maybe not every day, but it happens often enough for me to notice it. In a way, I kind of am a puppy; unconditionally loving, loyal, and fun. But as hard as I try to be a good friend to my friends and a good person in general, I always end up getting a kick to the shin, whether the reason is because that person is angry, sad, or just gets tired of me. I hate it so much. Whenever I start a friendship, I always have a way of letting my guard down too soon and becoming hopelessly attached to him or her. As cautious as I may be in the beginning, it's easy for me to love and to make others happy. I think happiness should be given whenever it can because there's a lot of shit going down on this planet. But when I become devoted, I feel the ache of abandonment a lot more than my "friends" think. They end up not coming around anymore. Once in a blue moon I get a phone call or text saying "I miss you!" Yeah, no you don't. If you "miss" me, you would have been here a long time ago.

Maybe my complaining is uncalled for and childish since I'm the one that lets these people in and gives them a shot at hurting me, but I just have too many problems with being mean and ignorant to people who come across as kind and fun. There's already enough hate and rudeness in this world, and I'd rather not contribute. But my God, if you don't wanna see me anymore, just tell me that we're done so I can move on. It hurts more to let things drag out and then have to wonder what's even going on anymore than to just say you don't want someone in your life. Sure, the rejection is going to sting. But a sting is better than a world of ache and tears, in my opinion.

I wish I didn't have to be so attached to people, and I know we change little by little every day. I know that I should expect this by now, and maybe even be immune to it, but I'm not. I hurt like everyone else. I cry like everyone else. And relating back to the puppy example, I shit like everyone else. I am a human being just like you, and I have stuff going on with me just like you do. When I'm left behind because of boredom, anger, or God forbid my own problems, it hurts just as much as it would if my mom and dad forgot I was their daughter. You may get used to pain, but whether you are or not, it's still going to hurt all the same. It's still going to cause a lot of tears. I'm almost to the point where I want to be done and say "screw having friends", because it has to be less painful that way, right?

I don't even know anymore. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how I should feel. I'm an emotional mess that I don't know how to clean up.

Despite these setbacks, I do know that I'm a strong person. I mean, my head hasn't caved in yet, and my heart hasn't collapsed, so that says at least a little bit, right? I think that overcoming all of these disappointments does help me understand others who have been hurt and abandoned, and I can also relate to them really well, even if they've had it worse than me. I guess being hurt hasn't been too much of a waste. I'm just tired of feeling it, and even worse, I'm tired of learning to expect it.

I'm not trying to guilt trip anyone who hasn't kept their promises about being "bffs" to me, and I'm not trying to sound like some lonely, pathetic loser. All I'm saying is, stop purposely getting my hopes up if you know there's a possibility that you're going to cause them to come crashing to the ground in some fiery explosion. If you don't wanna be my friend, tell me. If you're "too busy" to be friends, tell me. And don't come over to my house out of guilt. If you don't wanna be there, I honestly don't care.

"Best friends forever" and "I love you" are two lies that disguise themselves as truths, and quoting my math teacher, "they're just as phony as a three dollar bill".

Take a picture. It lasts longer.

If anyone has seen me out in public during the cold, Christmas season, they know it's no secret that I enjoy my warm, cozy sweatpants. I have three pairs that fit me perfectly, and by perfectly, I mean they cover my ankles. You see, I'm kind of on the tall side for being a girl. 5'8" and a quarter inch, to be exact. So it's hard for me to find long sweatpants when I go shopping. Petite just doesn't cut it. I'm sure that the people who hang out with me or see me every day have noticed that I only wear those specific sweatpants. I'm usually mismatched because of them, but I don't really care. I'm warm, and that's all that matters.

Today was one of those rare days where I did not wear my cozy sweats. As I began to put them on, I thought, "I need a change." So, instead of wearing my black Jaguar pants, I slipped on my ripped skinnies. It's hard for me to find jeans that are comfortable around my waist, and the ripped pair is the only pair I own that fits right. Don't worry, they're warm, and there's fabric under the ripped, stringy parts. Anyway, I slipped them on and wore my TDF shirt with them (I've been over-wearing it lately because I just love it so much), and after adding some eye makeup, I looked in the mirror and thought, "Yes. I look good today." Apparently I wasn't the only one that noticed.

My friend Brittany and I headed up to college to meet Jes and to wait for Taelor to finish her final so we could all go to Starbucks. We had been planning this day for a few weeks now, so I was pretty excited. Anyway, we walked into the student center, grabbed Jes, headed to the library to see if the tech desk could help Brittany fix her computer (there was a virus on it), and then returned to the student center for lunch. Brittany headed straight for the table underneath one of the TV's,  so Jes and I followed her. We walked past a table of guys and set our things down, and I looked over at them and saw that two out of the three were looking at me. We continued to sit down and talk, and each time I glanced over at the table, one of the two guys was staring. I wanted to say, "Take a picture, it lasts longer." But I ignored the urge and went to grab lunch.

I find it amazing how changing just one article of clothing can change the way people look at you. I went from sweat pants and glances to jeans and stare-downs. Do bottoms really affect an appearance that much? Sure, jeans show off a little more ass, but I hardly have one anyway. I didn't see the jeans as much of an upgrade, and I couldn't tell that they really changed anything about my physical appearance. It frustrates me, really. Attraction should never be based solely on looks, and I've found that liking someone for his appearance and then getting to know him completely changes how he looks externally. I never bet on looks anymore. Sure, I can take a look at a guy and say that he's cute or attractive, but what it boils down to is how he is as a person. Humans can be very beautiful and enjoyable to look at, but there is only so much appreciation that can be given for it. I feel like if you get to really know someone for who they are, you'll always have something about them to appreciate because there are just that many layers and components that make up their personality.

I wish people could ignore the outside and focus on what's on the inside. Society has become corrupt with how they think our people should look, so much so that it can actually cause self-harm to those who don't feel pretty enough or think they can't meet the standards. I know that I could majorly branch off into eating disorders and cutting and suicide, but I'm not going to do that. Instead, I am going to encourage each and every one of my readers to just take one day out of their entire lives to be comfortable on the outsides of their bodies. Wear some sweats and a shirt that doesn't match. Throw in a randomly colored hat and some mismatched shoes. Don't fit society's standards for just once in your lives and wear whatever you please, because being beautiful on the inside is way more important than how others view you on the outside! Not only will you be defying society's evil ways, but you will also be helping those who don't fit in feel better about themselves. And if people have the nerve to shoot you weird, judging stares, look at them, smile, and simply say, "Take a picture. It lasts longer."