Pure fiction (though kind, sorta, maybe, somewhat based on reality)

Jillian sat with her legs crossed as she unknowingly tapped her french-manicured nails on the table. Her long, blond hair fell down the back of her sparkly, purple tube top.

"Ugh, she's late," Jillian muttered under her breath.

A goth waitress approached her table with a look of annoyance Jillian had seen earlier. "You wanna order yet?"

"Um, I already told you," Jillian sneered, "my friend isn't here yet!"

"Sorry," the waitress said as she sulked away.

Jillian rolled her eyes as she pulled her blingy, faux-emerald crested cell phone out of her $90 handbag. It was two minutes passed the last time she had checked it. "What is her problem?" she thought. "This is, like, so rude!"

Just then, the singer Ke$ha's voice wailed from her phone. Jillian answered it in six notes. "O.M.G. Where ARE you? I've been sitting here for-EV-er, and this goth chick is, like, totally being a snob to me!"

"I'm not coming."

"Um... what?"

"Jillian," the voice was rude, but sincere. "I can't deal with you right now."

"W-what are you talking about, Sade?"

"I can't deal with you or your stupid problems. I'm not coming to lunch. You're selfish, stupid, and I can't stand your boyfriend."

"What does Dirk have to do with this?" Jillian snapped.

"He's boring. All he ever talks about is Family Guy. Newsflash: no one cares about Family Guy! Also, he always goes on about the news."

"So, isn't the news, like important?"

"Of course," Sadie replied. "But he just assumes everyone is as liberal as he is. He doesn't let anyone else chime in about things. Plus, whenever you say anything, anything at all, he turns to me and says, 'Isn't Jillian cute? She says the funniest stuff!' "

"What's wrong with him saying that?"

"Jillian," Sadie sighed. "You're so naive. You can't even see the fact that Dirk sees you as a little girl. You're a part of his collection, though not shrink wrapped. He's creepy and weird."

"You know what," Jillian stood, grabbed her handbag, and headed towards the door. "YOU'RE just jealous, Sadie! Your last break-up was shi% and you can't handle the fact that anyone else in the world is happy!"

"See, that's what I meant. You're naive."

"Naive about WHAT?" Jillian opened her car door and slammed it behind her.

"You live in a fantasy world, Jill. You think you're happy living in your condo with your career and your small dogs. You love having Dirk as your man. You love the image you portray. When you're high, you're high. If anyone, like me, comes looking for help--you shove them away. There's no room for darkness in your world of light.

"But then, when things go wrong in your family or you have some stupid fight with Dirk, you want the whole world to shower you with sympathy. 'Oh poor, poor Jillian! Her uncle in Arkansas stubbed his toe; everyone rush to her aid!' You don't care about my problems, though. You won't listen to what others are going through, so why should we listen to you?"

"Look Sadie," Jillian had started her car and was weaving in and out of traffic. "I don't know what your problem is, but I've never been treated so rudely in my life! As far as I'm concerned, we're through!"

"I thought you'd say that," Sadie replied. "I know I was harsh, but I wanted to tell you the truth. It really hurt that you blew off my birthday to stay home and do puzzles with Dirk."

"I stayed home because I was stressed out. You don't know what I'm going through!"

"Okay, whatever," said Sadie. "But just so you know, I'm going through bad stuff too. You don't even understand the financial peril I've been in trying to help out my brother. He's probably going to go back to jail because of his addictions."

But Jillian didn't hear those last few sentences. She hung up on Sadie.

"Bitch," Jillian muttered as she sped her way home.

Trust and Faith

"It is more shameful to distrust our friends than to be deceived by them. " --Confucius

It has recently come to my attention that a friend of mine doesn't trust me. Or rather, she doesn't have faith in me. Needless to say, this is unsettling.

Hold on, Steph. Who are you to talk about trust? YOU don't trust anyone! Also, as you've blogged before, you've lost faith in all humanity!

Alright, calm down. Although technically true, I never said I don't trust my FRIENDS. I just don't trust the general population... a.k.a. humanity. And I've lost faith in them mostly due to what years of retail has taught me. Customers suck.

That's besides the point. I don't understand why my friend doesn't trust me because, as far as I know, I have a squeaky-clean track record with him/her. I have most always been true to my word and I've made it a point to not cancel on planned events. Also, as of a few days ago, I was welcomed with open arms into my friend's home.

But I will admit that there is a bit of a backstory to all of this. One person I no longer trust (due to that person's actions) is friends with my distrusting-friend.

Wow. This isn't confusing at all.

Look, I'm not going to get into the technicalities, okay? My friend thinks that I am going to ruin an upcoming event by doing... well... I don't even know what... fighting, I guess, with the person I distrust.

What?

He/she thinks I'm going to cause problems, even though I've told him/her that I won't. Now, to his/her credit, it is a semi-resonable thing to be concerned about. After all, I wouldn't want drama at my get-together either. And it is somewhat reassuring that he/she has also spoken with the other party.

Jeez, Steph. Why didn't you just use fake names? It's not like either one of them read this blog... or anyone, for that matter.

What I am really trying to say is that my word is not any assurance for my friend. He/she thinks I am going to cause problems. I'm not. I have absolutely no desire to do so. All I want to do is go to the get-together, catch up with people I haven't seen in awhile, and just have fun. So what if so-and-so is going to be there? He/she had every right to be invited, same as me. I'm not ghetto and have never been very confrontational anyway. (Not to imply that all ghetto people ARE confrontational... they're not.)

But let me end by saying this... it doesn't feel good knowing that you don't trust me, friend. Considering all that's happened (and you KNOW what I mean), I think I've handled myself decently. It's at LEAST a C+. Can't you please have some faith in me?

And to you, reader; oh what you must think. "She's crazy," "She's paranoid," "She's bitter and cold," "She's cynical," "She's stupid," "She had a mean soul!"

Think what you will... I know I do.

I'm Not Dead

I just haven't blogged in a long time. Since I'm back in school again and sometimes have a lot of free time between classes I'm going to give it a go once again. I could write about a lot of things: a new school year, the end of summer, my views on current events, stupid customers, all the "shite" in my life... but I'm not going to. At least, not right now.

I'm just going to keep this short and sweet (mostly because I have a paper to write).

No matter how bad things may seem, there's always someone who has it worse. Granted, there are also people who have it better, but you should be grateful that you're not in the category of "worse".

Now, I know that wasn't a new, innovative idea. In fact, I pretty much stole it from... um... I don't really know.

Good work, moron.

But let me just say that this particular idea has been ever present in my mind as of late. And maybe, perhaps, I can pass it along to you.

Until next time...

Information Overload

I think some people are obsessed with putting their information online. They blog, tweet, facebook, etc. like there's no tomorrow.

FOUL!!! I CALL FOUL!!! HYPOCRITE, HYPOCRITE, HYPOCRITE STEPH!!!!!!!!!

Okay, okay, I get it. Granted I don't have a Twitter account (thank goodness) I will admit I facebook more than most people should.

THE BLOG, DON'T FORGET THE BLOG, STEPH!!!

Yes, well, OBVIOUSLY I blog as well. It's not a successful blog, mind you. I have maybe 5 followers, but it's still a blog, I confess.

Anyway, I'd like to bring up an episode of House I watched the other day.

Oh jeez, REALLY Steph?

Yes. Really. So this girl in her late twenties ends up in the hospital. House and his team can't figure out what's wrong with her. Imagine that! (BTW The girl was played by Donna from That 70's Show. Fun fact.)

Anyway, the girl is having trouble with her husband/boyfriend, not sure what he is exactly, because she spends WAAAAAYYYYYY too much time blogging. She blogs, and blogs, and blogs excessively. Seriously, she's sitting there dying in a hospital bed, yet she feels she has to blog the experience to her "friends". Her hubby-friend is fed up! He's sick of all the fighting and he's sick of her taking advice from random weirdos online than from him. At one point she's told she needs to decide if she wants a heart valve from a pig--which isn't permanent but it's safe, or a plastic valve--which IS permanent, but will prevent her from having children (which I don't understand, but whatever). So what does she do? Yep. She writes a blog about it asking for advice!

Okay, so the whole thing might be a fictional TV show, but I don't think it's all that unheard of. For the most part, I'm on the side of the hubby-friend. He obviously loves her and he's hurt that she won't talk about it with him. On the other hand, I kind of see her point. She's scared that she's going to die and doesn't want to make the wrong decision. If she goes with the popular vote she doesn't feel responsible for a bad outcome.

As for the people who read her blog---they're nosy. Everyone who reads another person's blog is nosy. Yes, myself included. People in general are gossipy, petty, and nosy people. No, that's not mean. Look at all the tabloids in any supermarket. People hunger for "the juice" (you can't EAT juice, silly). A lot of people are also controlling by nature. They feel like they have the right answer and should use their powers to make decisions for others.

So what does STEPH think about this? It's a multi layered situation. I think anyone who posts anything online wants feedback on it. Some people get tons of feedback, others minimal if any. Everyone wants someone in their corner to say, "Right on, sista!" and so forth. Even the most cynical people need someone on their side.

I don't see anything wrong with occasional blogging. I believe in creativity and I honestly think blogging and writing is therapeutic. However, I also think people take it too far. The girl on House is crazy! People also read too much into blogs. If no one reads it no one reads it. If too many people read it then maybe you should blog less.

What else is there to say really?

Break a leg!

I have never been in a play. No, not even an elementary school play. Oh sure, I took ballet for five years. (By taking I mean I was there and my mom paid money for me to be there.) Likewise, I've been "on-stage" for the recitals---but that's still not a play. In second grade I sang at Abravenal Hall for some reason or another. Not alone, of course. There were a bunch of us. I don't remember much of it, but I think it was some kind of competition against other schools. But that's still not a play.

And then, of course, there was the inevitable 4th Grade assembly. Yes, all us miserable 10-year-olds were paraded in front of the school to sing about the history of the state of Utah. (Sadly, I still have the "Counties of Utah" song memorized and could sing it to you at a que.) A few poor saps had to play the parts of pioneers and were given words to recite---but not me. That's still not a play.

I guess I should mention various "skits" I've been a part of---well, maybe not. A skit is just a way to get a lesson across without the teacher having to do anything. It's also a way to get students involved---but it's still not a play. I have never been in a play.

So, why do I want to be? Technically, it doesn't make sense. Anyone who knows me can testify that I'm not a public speaker. I don't even raise my hand in class. Ever. I've worked in retail for about five years and I'm still a freak when it comes to talking to customers. I get paranoid and, as I've been told, "awkward" around them.

But here's the thing...I've always wanted to be in a play. A REAL play, or even a musical. I'm shy, I'm awkward, I can't act, sing, or dance--but the urge still lies within me. I'd probably foul it up somehow. I'd knock the scenery over, freeze, forget my lines, rip my costume, vomit, etc. That's probably why I never have, or never will be apart of something. But the desire's still there.

Water

I need water
Clean, sweet water
Purify,
Make me whole

Pop, my only,
Made me lonely
Demanding
Dumb a$$hole

Juice seemed neat,
Nice and sweet
Degrading,
Great big troll

Oh, now I see
Water is glee
Four-fifths of me
That's my decree
Hear my plea,
Water's the key
Come plant the tree,
Come make me free

Random Flash-Fiction---crap

"What's with that girl over there?" Britney whispered as she combed her fingers through her bottle-blond hair.


"Which one?" asked Sarah as she fiddled with a charm-bracelet on her left wrist.


"That one, there. In the corner. Have you ever seen her talk to anybody?"


"Psh--no," Sarah smirked. "She never raises her hand or anything."


"Look at what she's wearing," Britney laughed. "That hoodie has stains on it!"


"Yeah," Sarah chuckled, but still maintained a whisper. "And who wears a parka like that anymore? What is she doing, climbing Mt. Everest?"


"I know," Britney was having a field day. "It's like, hello, make up your MIND already! Hoodie or parka. Ugh!?"


"Fashionista alert!" Sarah scrunched her faux-tan face like an armadillo. "Call Tyra, stat!"


The two girls cackled like banshees.


"All right class," the gray-haired professor cleared his throat. "Let's quiet down."


Sarah slid her Aeropostle backpack to the ground and Britney applied a fifth coat of lip gloss.


"We've got a few more oral-recitations to finish up before we get started today. Clara," the professor pointed to the girl in the corner. "Would you like to read your poem to the class?"


"Okay," Clara sounded like a scared mouse.


"This'll be good," Britney whispered to Sarah.


Clara pushed her long, dirt colored hair out of her eyes. She wore no make-up and acne was speckled across her face. She was awkwardly tall and very broad shouldered. "My poem is called Deity," she muttered nervously.


"Good Lord," Britney squeaked. Sarah burst into giggles.


"Deity," Clara cleared her throat. "The Deity knows her heart. The Deity knows her soul. The Deity is all-knowing. The Deity has control."


"The Deity needs a nightcap," Sarah whispered.


"Or a man," Britney added with a cocky smile.


"Ladies, please!" The professor gave them a scornful look.


"Sorry, Dr. Johnson," Britney said in a falsetto.


"The Deity," Clara continued apprehensively, "judges no one. The Deity's a saint. The Deity does what's right, especially when you c'aint!" Clara paused, shook her hair out of her eyes, and slumped down to her seat.


"V-very nice," Dr. Johnson clapped. A few others joined in sparingly, but most sat in stunned silence.


"Holy crap", Britney mouthed to Sarah.


"Wow," a boy in front of them turned around. "That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard."


"Definitely," Britney agreed.


* * *


An hour later, the eager students rushed out of the classroom. Britney and Sarah lagged behind.

"See," Britney grinned. "Wasn't that awesome?"


"Yeah," Sarah nodded. "She's one odd duck, all right."


"Well, I'm off to my dance class. We're picking partners for the Rumba," Britney squealed like a sow. "I SO want to be picked by a hottie!!!"


"We should get a manny after my Biology test," said Sarah.


"For sure-shees!" Britney blew her a kiss. "Tootles!!!"


"Tootles," Sarah waved. She walked down the hall and stopped in front of the drinking fountain. A gargoyle-esque figure was hunched over, gulping it down like a failing ficus. "Ugh," Sarah groaned impatiently.


"Oh, sorry," Clara backed up slowly, wiping slobber from her chin.


"Uh-huh," Sarah rolled her eyes. She lapped her water gracefully, turned, and headed towards the doors.


"Tell Aunt Cindy hi from me," Clara called out. "We're all praying she gets better soon."


Sarah rubbed the bracelet in her fingers; a gift from her mother when she turned sixteen. "Yeah," she looked past Clara. "I will."


Clara wiped her nose on her sleeve and headed off to math.

What 2009 Taught Me

"Uh, Steph...it's been 2010 for almost a month now."

Yes, I am well aware.

To be honest, I wanted to do this earlier this month, but I couldn't find the time. 2009 was an, for a lack of a better, word, interesting year for me. I wouldn't really say it was a GOOD year, but I suppose it really could have been worse. I'm not going to relieve every grievance I suffered, because who would want to read that? No, instead I'm going to make a list, in no particular order, of what 2009 taught me.

Here we go...

*I've become more cynical than I was before.
*"Shit" really does, "roll down hill" (that's a saying I got from my mom.)
*For the first time in my life I feel old--and I don't like it.
*People are stubborn--they would rather give up a friendship than admit they were wrong.
*"Friendship" is a facade.
*True friends don't need to be labeled. They're just there.
*I don't have many true friends after all.
*Sometimes you've got to let things go.
*I'm not the crazy, right-winged conservative that I was in 2004 & 2005.
*I'm not liberal either. I guess I'm nothing really.
*I hate politics.
*Twilight really does suck--but it is good that it might, maybe, possibly introduce young people to the world of good literature.
*Twilight is not good literature.
*"Facebook drama" is almost as bad as "Junior High drama".
*The Snuggie is just about the stupidest invention I've ever seen. It just might beat out Crocs.
*The people at Pixar are AWESOME!!! (I kinda already knew that one, though.)
*I don't really know how to write. I've got a lot of work to do before I can even come close to getting something published.
*I hate the public.
*I hate my job.
*No entiendo la lengua española muy bien. Puedo hablar sobre así como un niño de diez años. No me gusta ya!
*I have a slight crush on Joel McHale. I know it's partly because he's an a--hole.
*"Nice guys" are jerks.
*Gwen Stefani is awesome!!! That No Doubt concert was FREAKIN' SWEET!!!
*Lady GaGa intrigues me. She's like a car crash.
*I think I'm a "Cat Lady in Training".
*I do like Michael Jackson. I am sad that he's dead.
*Yes, he is dead.
*People, er, women who like "Sex in the City" are living in a dream world.
*I like Sushi--ESPECIALLY CALIFORNIA ROLLS!!!
*I like ribs too.
*People are too obsessed with blood. (Take that how you want.)
*A lot of "younger" people annoy me. When does that end?
*Going to Wisconsin was AWESOME!!!
*I want to travel more.
*I'M NO LONGER AFRAID OF FLYING!!!

...

That'll do for now. Maybe I'll write more, maybe not.

I'm Non-Traditional

So, apparently, I'm now considered a "Non-traditional" student at my university. It includes anyone 25 or older (me), married students, or students with children. I didn't think it was a big deal, but now I'm getting all this spam e-mail at my university address. They want me to join them and to start doing activities and such. Um, no. I don't want to do that. Just let me be!

I also went to my first class of the semester last night and I swear I'm one of the oldest students in there. I sat by a group of girls who were talking about how weird it was that they graduated from high school almost a year ago. Bloody hell!!! This is starting to weird me out.