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.

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?

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.

STOP!!!

STOP!
Please, life; just stop for
one brief moment.
I need to breathe. I need to take this in.
I'm stuck.
I'm sinking in a pit of quick sand.
Not really, but still...

STOP!
Please stop doubting me.
I know what I am doing
For once.
Things can't change over night. Rome wasn't
built in a day
you know?

STOP!
Please stop thinking that I am not listening.
I am.
I hear you loud and clear. This is why I came to you
and why I continue to come.

STOP!
Please stop thinking that.
I know you blame me
but it is NOT my fault!
Don't shoot the messenger.
Don't shoot me.
I am just trying to help.

STOP!
Please stop everything
and LISTEN TO ME!
But you won't listen, will you?
You don't want to hear the truth. Well, okay then,
I get it!
But when you get hurt then don't come crying to me.
Because I tried to help.

STOP!
Please Steph, stop doing this
to yourself.
Stop making yourself cry.
Stop getting worked up over things
that you can't help.
Stop being afraid.
Stop being sad.
Stop thinking that it's hopeless
it's not.
You know better than that!

Most of all, Steph
DON'T stop trying!
Don't you dare! You are stronger
than all of this.
Don't you forget it!

I know...


but it's still hard.

The blog for ME

No one else is going to benefit from this blog entry but I could give a crap less right now. To be honest, I am not doing very well right now. Actually, I am kind of ticked off. But none of that is really relevant. Well, maybe a little relevant--but I was planning on doing this entry irregardless of how I was feeling. There are a lot of little things that I hate. I know hate is a strong word to use and might seem unnecessary for little things. Nonetheless, "Hate" is accurate.

I don't know if I actually heard this somewhere or if I made it up in my head but I am going to do a little exercise that will, hopefully, help me get rid of some of my hatred. The theory is that typing them down will release the tensions into the void and I will be rid of them. It is supposedly therapeutic. I don't know if it works--but I suppose we will find out.

Things Steph Hates as of 11/09/08

*A crowd of people
*Ignorant people
*Self-absorbed people
*"Scientific" people
*Actors/actresses/entertainers who talk about politics--ON EITHER SIDE
*The shows TMZ, ET, The Insider, Access Hollywood--etc
*People who go, "Um hmm" every two seconds and nod at the person talking to them
*People who drive way too fast
*People who drive like morons
*People who come to the fitting room and have a cow that I only let them take in 6 items at a time to try on (I don't make the rules, I just enforce them!)
*A girl I work with--let's call her "Melody"
*That I keep failing
*That I just don't shut up sometimes
*Extreme BYU Fans
*Extreme UTE fans
*The fact that I am the one who has to call people to come in to work. I HATE calling people!
*People who come into the U.S. illegally
*The people in the U.S. who are OKAY with the people coming in illegally.
*People who stand and block the hallways after church and just yak, yak, yak! JUST MOVE!!!
*Parents who do nothing while their child is screaming and screaming.
*Parents who let their kids run around and knock stuff over.
*When I put a call on hold, call it out over the walkie-talkie, and I just get ignored!
*Being miserable
*When people tell me to just "Be happy". {Oh really, gee I never thought of that. What a concept!}
*When people overlook Thanksgiving as a holiday that comes BEFORE Christmas.
*The fact that I don't understand guys.
*The fact that guys are stupid.
*The fact that girls are mean.
*Being a girl.
*Feeling alone
*BEING alone
*The fact that I always make the wrong choice
*Feminists
*Male chauvinists
*Racists
*Bigots
*Mean people
*The people who said, "If you don't vote for Obama then you are racist!"
*Bossy people
*People who gossip
*People who talk on their phones or use their blue tooth devices while walking around a store.
*Those cell phones that are like walkie-talkies
*Those toaster-cars (Scions--I think)
*CROCS--those hideously UGLY shoes
*The fact that people can't just buy something and NOT return it
*Working on Sunday
*People who think EVERYTHING should be closed on Sunday. (Yeah, most things should, but not EVERYTHING. Not the hospital, the police, or a store big enough to get milk or medicine should that be required.)
*When teachers make you introduce yourself on the first day of class.
*When you lose points if you never, ever raise your hand in class
*When you study hard for a test then find out half of the crap you studied is NOT on the test!
*When you actually have a desire to do well in a class--yet do badly.
*When your class is full of 18 year olds--especially ones that think they are the cat's pajamas

Most of all

*I hate hating myself.



Anyway, I am going to study what I've written and figure out what I can do to fix it. I think I have too much hate in my life and, apparently, I have issues with people.

How sad.