Une Question

You live a life with people. You see, laugh, scream, love, hate with them. No need to worry, no need to wonder. Speak your mind & everything falls into place.

That's how it should be. How it's supposed to be.

So I ask you, how do you bypass that long enough to matter to someone & get to the point where you can live like that? How do you do that when you literally can't go down the normal path?

Lessons

A couple things I've learned from life:

1. there's no such thing as a mistake. it's a lesson. go through it once. that is all.

2. don't assume.

3. everything is better with music. everything.

4. love & live like it's your last day on earth

Title

I wonder what I did wrong.

Or, did I just not do anything right? Is that it?

Flying over Rainbows

It's frustrating because I can't quite describe the happy, content feeling I have right now...it's something like...eating cookies & cream ice cream with whipped cream on top, outside where the sun is shining really brightly but there's still a breeze...

It's like...swinging off an old rope into a little pond on a summer day. Or falling asleep under a tree in the shade and dreaming you're running through some sparkly gold meadow, the sun is shining so bright.

Haha. I don't know if that explains it though...there's no real explanation for how I feel. Except God. And music. OH MAN. I found some of the most amazing songs in the past hour, including one I'm absolutely in love with and haven't heard in months...yes, music is exceptional. Beautiful. Wonderful. I think a world full of music, where you hear music everywhere you go like some kind of fantasy world, would be the best world.

I wish I could share these songs & this feeling with everyone. Listen to the song I just put on my blog :) And...have a good night. And a good day. And a good life. Don't let moments & happiness slip away.

Shuffle.

I think my computer subconsciously wants me to watch Lion King. Or Pocahontas.

Those songs keep coming up on shuffle...over and over again...

I Remembered

Today was good. Much better than the previous two days, and for a very different reason than I expected.

God is good. =)

I realized I've been going to this new church for officially a year now. It amazes me when I looked back and see how things have changed, how I've both fallen away from and come back to God. I'm still working on it. I haven't been trying very hard, I know. I get way too focused on things that distress--gosh, I even find things to worry about, instead of just letting it all fall away like I once did. It's still very difficult to give up my power...let it go...stop worrying.

But I remembered today how to do that. I remembered that God is really there. I finally felt Him. For weeks I've been asking Him to show Himself to me again...I felt like I was talking aimlessly to the ceiling, at least partially. Crying to the air. But I still knew, deep down, he was there. I just let my mind cloud over and push Him to the back of it, til it's dark like a cave and I can barely see Him anymore.

Today I remembered. Today I saw. Our priest's sermon today was just what I needed to her, about how through God all things are possible, if we only say yes to Him with every inch of our being. If it's according to His will, if it's the right thing, He will help us find a way. Even when it seems like there is no way, every path is blocked, not even the tiniest opening appears anywhere near or far away.

He's there and He loves me and He's watching. He knows everything and therefore He knows what's best for me. So how is it I still let myself fill with fear, worry, and distress? He's the only thing that truly matters.

Yes, God is good. =)

Can't Run on Autopilot Forever

I can't live the rest of my life so guarded.

Soooo. K I'm an idiot. I press the repeat button willingly. It's dialed into my brain somehow. Autopilot. Hard to break. But I will learn.

A snapshot of myself: happy, carefree, dreamy, floating on air, optimistic, loving everything, wondering, seeking adventure, a little quiet because of it, eager for the future & what God has in store for me, cuz I know it'll be beautiful when I get there, etc.

A different snapshot: questioning everything, reaching crazy conclusions, overreacting, sick of it all, nothing's good, blah I hate it, listen to me sit here in self-pity, etc.

I sit on this really delicate thread between those two. It's kinda scary, once I break out of the second one...cuz I think I can't stop it, can't do anything, I'll get back into the same mode at one time or another. Probably soon, rather than later.

Sure, everyone gets cynical sometimes. I'm just sick of it happening SO OFTEN. I think it's better to stay totally realistic--thinking the worse--rather than stay soaked in optimism and hopefulness. But it's not worth it. Maybe NONE of it is worth it...but losing happiness & sleep over any of it is just stupid and pointless.

Patterns are hard to break. Stitched into your being, very difficult to remove.

But I will learn.

~Stephanie

Stupidity

I'm proud of my independence. I hate feeling like I have to depend on someone else to get something done, or just be something. But it makes things difficult sometimes.

Or...is independence not my problem? I think I'm afraid of something. I don't know what it is. Opening up? Just being myself? I think I'm a slow learner. Really, really stupid, maybe.

But I don't know how to speed up my learning process... -_- Just...ignore questions & worries & whatever tries to stop me. Just bust through. Do something. Anything.

Taken

I'm watching this movie right now called "Taken." This girl goes to Paris with her friend, and both of them are kidnapped and taken into the whole sex-slave business. Women are drugged and turned into prostitutes to earn money for the men who run the business.

It's sick. Disgusting.

I remember hearing about this before, but it didn't get to me like now...I didn't realize how big of a reality this situation really is. In the movie, this girl is lucky and her dad, an ex-CIA person, manages to get her back. But that doesn't happen in real life. Hundreds of girls are kidnapped and don't come back. The drugs take them over so much that they become completely different people, almost unaware that their captive.

It makes me kinda scared. Not like, I'll never go outside and walk down my street again. But a little worried. This stuff is real, it does happen.

And it seems like no one does anything about it.

lawl.

oh God. Our video is going to be amazingg haha.

& get-out-early days FTW.

There.

There was a fresh, cool breeze flowing over his face, his limbs, consuming him with its light, pure waves of air. Jeremy didn’t think it was real because everything else around him was hot and sweaty and terrible. But he could feel it. And what he felt had to be real, right?
It confused him, how spontaneously this breeze had come upon him. Turned his head, focused his eyes…and that was it. Wonder, beauty, clarity. Just like that. Faster and better than anything he had ever felt before.
He was staring, he was sure of it. But how could he not?
She was beautiful of course. Her skin was pale, but warmly colored at the same time; her hair a gorgeous shade of light brown, in curls, half of it pinned up; her figure tall, lean but just the right amount. Jeremy had seen beautiful women before. None as beautiful as her, but still, it couldn’t be the only reason, the only thing filling him with such warmth.
Now she was speaking, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was speaking to Sandy.
That made him blink. Sandy knew this girl? And now she was smiling. He was making her smile. Jeremy swallowed. A kind of liquid jealousy burned vaguely in his veins.
He had to talk to her, had to stand beside her. But how, and what would he say? What would she say, suddenly being spoken to by a stranger? She might not listen.
Wait, now she was moving. Smiling again, biting her lip, then turning so swiftly her hair flew behind her. Still she looked graceful.
Beautiful.
Jeremy swallowed. His feet felt less heavy now and his heart wasn’t pounding quite so hard, so he carefully stepped forward. “Excuse me” he muttered, not focused enough to steer clear of all the men in his path. They all gave him looks as he passed, but they were only hazy images in the background of his vision. There was Sandy, smiling a little as the girl edged further away and stopped at the end of the row, where the men were consulting each other. He couldn’t see them too well, either. He felt almost drunk.
“There you are,” called Sandy with a laugh, turning to meet him.
Jeremy couldn’t tell if he stumbled before he stopped, or just stopped. But suddenly he wasn’t moving. “Hey,” he said, his sight trailing past his friend’s face to the girl. Her back was turned. “Who’s the girl?” he asked. He wondered if he sounded strange.
“Oh, her? That’s Claire.” Sandy sounded nonchalant. He leaned against a machine. “Just one of the several women I’ve charmed in this town.”
Her head turned and her curls bounced slightly; he could see her face from the side now. Her lips pursed slightly, but she was placid. Then they moved as she said something. Of course he couldn’t hear.
A low chuckle came from beside him. He blinked once, finally letting his eyes stray from her face to Sandy’s.
“You back yet?” asked Sandy.
Instinctively, Jeremy’s gaze panned back to Claire. She was like some kind of magnet. He felt he could look at her forever and never grow tired. But she…well, she didn’t know he was there. He was just another boy in the crowd. He wanted that to change. And he had barely learned her name. “Um, no,” he muttered, remembering suddenly that Sandy had spoken.
“You wanna talk to her I reckon?” Sandy grinned, slapping his friend on the back. “Don’t get your hopes up, mate. She’s a hard one to get a word with. Practically a royal.”
“You said you know her,” said Jeremy, looking at Sandy.
“I drove her to her house when she got here, couple days ago.” Sandy reached into his pocket, searching for some spare piece of straw or dried-out cigarette to chew on. “You oughta see where she lives, that about says it all. I think her father owns this place now.”
Jeremy swallowed, turning his head again. Claire was turning hers too, slowly, elegantly, as she stepped to her left behind the men, who were clearly leaving the room. Then, suddenly, her green eyes moved past the machines and workers, toward Sandy and his frozen figure. When they touched his gaze, it felt like the longest second of his life.
The lightest frown crept to the corners of her mouth, like the dim outline of a curious question mark hanging in mid-air; wonder.
Then she was gone, looking away somewhere else. Stepping forward and leaving as quickly and suddenly as she had come.
Jeremy smiled.

Eye-opener

I just realized how hard it is to write your own story. You're no god. I think I could write endless paragraphs about this & they would get me nowhere. But it's like, where am I even going?? Life is weird. I feel like sitting back in my chair and just...riding, going wherever it takes me. But that hasn't worked before & it won't work now.

I seriously need a major eye-opener. Or I will be stuck literally running in circles FOREVER. That would pretty much suck.

stephanie

The Factory part 2

“There you are, Claire.”

“Sorry, I was looking at something.”

“If you insist on your daughter accompanying us, she best not touch anything, please,” said the overseer, almost sneering.

“Of course,” replied Claire, her eyes running over the machinery in front of her.

She looked too familiar. Sandy’s eyes narrowed in a frown, trying to place her.

But of course.

It was the girl he had driven the other day. The one who had looked at him. And ignored him. Someone who, no doubt, thought she was royalty.

Raising his eyebrows, he watched her disappear momentarily behind the men, then reappear as they stepped into the machines in this row. She seemed uncomfortable, surrounded by so many men. They were all watching her. But she didn’t falter, either, and nothing missed her eyes.

Not even Sandy.

Something like recognition hit her suddenly, and she twisted her mouth a little. She glanced at her father and the other two men, who were inspecting some piece of machinery Sandy new was defective. They’d be at it for a while. So she walked forward slowly, ignoring the eyes following her back and getting closer to Sandy, but looking as if she was only interested in the machinery.

A faint smile raised the corner of his mouth as she stopped walking, eyeing a strangely shaped lever, not four feet away from him. “Hello,” he said.

She turned her head sharply at first, then relaxed slightly, though still on guard. “Hello.” She spoke with a British accent, her eyes going back to the machine. She looked very pretty with her pale skin and green eyes glowing faintly in the light sifting through the door.

“You remember me?” he asked, expectantly.

“You’re that driver boy, aren’t you?” she said, without looking at him.

“I’m Sandy.”

“Charming.”

He laughed quietly, and her eyes glanced at him, narrowed slightly. “What’s yours?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Just making conversation.” He paused, smiling. “Don’t like talking to people?”

“Of course I do.”

“Not to people like me?”

“I usually can’t talk to people who aren’t millionaires and don’t own top hats and enough black coats to clothe the population of a small town.”

“Well, now no one’s watching.”

Amusement flickered across her face, then worry. She turned her head hurriedly, glancing back at the men. They were still preoccupied. “Maybe for now.”

“So, what’s your name?”

She twisted her mouth, considering, though she was half-smiling. “Claire.”

“Nice name.”

“Claire!”

She exhaled in annoyance and called over her shoulder, “I’m coming!” Then back to Sandy. “See, what did I tell you?”

“You’re sheltered, that’s what you are.”

“I hate it.” She laughed a little, turning and hurrying off, her golden brown curls flying behind her.

The Factory part 1

Sweaty palms fingered strings and pulled levers on the heavy machinery. It whirred and rang like a screeching cat. So, so loud. It was suffocating.

And Sandy was used to it, as much as he possibly could be.

He swallowed, pausing momentarily to wipe beads of sweat from his eyes. The heat was stifling. He glanced at Jeremy.

An intense, almost crazed expression had etched itself into Jeremy’s face. Eyes narrowed, tightly closed mouth. Trying to ignore the noise — intent on working. At the same time, he was about to explode.

Sandy knew this feeling. “I reckon we’ll be finished soon,” he muttered, just loud enough for Jeremy to pick up this new sound over the incessant humming around them.

“I hope you’re right,” he replied with a grimace.

This was the worst room and the worst hour; production went twice as fast as the overseer spurred his workers to reach the quota. Sandy always found some way to get out of it and switch to assembling in the other room. It wasn’t so loud or hot in there. But today, some unclear reason had pushed all the men into the one room, packed like dogs into the rows to man the machines. Today, none of his excuses had worked.

There was a sudden clang that shook Sandy out of the rhythmic, never-ending stupor in his mind. He looked up and around hurriedly, afraid something had really exploded. Instead, the wheels were slowing, the noise lessening, and a general hush of relieved silence melting over the men.

“Alright, keep it down,” called the tall, mustached overseer from the now open doorway, about three rows ahead on the wall to Sandy’s right. Bright sunlight flooded slowly into the room from distant windows. “You’re to stay where you are and position yourselves for inspection.”

“Do they do this everyday?” whispered Jeremy.

Sandy’s eyes scanned curiously beyond the overseer’s figure, hoping to see something that would explain the need for inspection. “No, maybe twice a month at most.”

He saw someone now — two men with canes and top hats leisurely stopping beside the overseer. One spoke. Sandy couldn’t hear anything.

The overseer’s voice was louder. “Yes, follow me. We’ll go down each row. Feel free to ask any questions you might have.”

“How many workers?” asked the more forward of the two strangers.

“Two hundred and thirty-seven, since this morning.”

“Ah, very good.”

Sandy exhaled loudly from boredom. There was nothing interesting about inspection, even if these were people he’d never seen before. He turned to his friend. “So, you like poker?”

“When I win.” Jeremy grinned.

“Ha, well don’t plan on it.” Sandy stuck his hands in his pockets and glanced at the machinery in front of him for a place to lean against that wouldn’t damage anything. “I’m known around here for being a lucky guy.” He winked.

Jeremy laughed, then lowered his voice as he glanced up and saw the men just two rows away. “You wish.”

“Quiet, everyone,” called the overseer suddenly, harshly.

Sandy tilted his head to the side to see past the large machine in front of him. The man was saying something again to the one beside him. Smiling, he looked back at Jeremy. “Watch me get ‘im drunk, then steal all his precious money.”

“Oh, yeah, that’ll happen,” replied Jeremy, sarcastically.

“Like I said, watch me.”

“I won’t miss it. Now, can you cover for me for a sec? Steve’s saying something over there, but I can’t hear ‘im.”

“Sure.” Still smiling, Sandy’s eyes wandered back to the three men. They had reached the end of the row before his, back near the front door. As he watched, someone stepped through the door just then. Curled, light brown hair. White shawl; thick, dark blue dress.

Controlling

Jane,
I was so right. I’m just stuck in this house all day and of course that leaves me thinking constantly and, well, I miss you and Europe and everything about my old life so, so much. It’s so unfair. I’ll write more once I’ve got something to write about. Until then…pray for me.
Much love,
Claire Clemett

Biting her lip, Claire set her pen down on the desk and picked up the parchment in front of her, scanning the short, succinct sentences with her green eyes. She sighed. “So perfect,” she muttered.

“Claire?” Two raps on her closed bedroom door.

Looking vaguely annoyed but mostly placid, she turned her head to the door. It was opening. “Yes?” she asked.

Her mother stepped forward in a tight-bodice lace gown. Her black heels tapped lightly on the wood. “Locking yourself up in here will give you a cold, I’m sure. You’ll come out now. Your father is going to town to visit the factory in town and some visitors will be along this evening.” Mrs. Clemett stepped back with an expression of distaste. “And if you’re in here anyways, please do something about the walls. They’re very bare.”

“I haven’t unpacked everything yet,” said Claire.

Her mother frowned disapprovingly. “Laura said she had, I’ll go and speak to her about it now.”

“Alright then. I think I’ll go to town with Father.” Claire rose from her seat, folding the letter neatly as she did so.

Mrs. Clemett had turned on her heel to leave. Now she stopped and spoke, shifting smoothly to her previous, stern position, looking at her daughter. “You will do no such thing.”

“I’ll see what Father says, thank you,” retorted Claire, matching her mother’s face.

“Of all the improper things, I will not have my daughter roaming about town, especially near the factories.”

“We’re not in England, Mother.”

“Wherever we are, you have a duty to honor me, Claire, and I will not put up with this unacceptable behavior,” said Mrs. Clemett sharply.

“This isn’t about honor, it’s about controlling me. And I can’t stand it anymore.” Taking the letter, Claire moved swiftly through the doorway, edging between the wall and her astonished mother.

“Claire, you will listen to me!” cried the lady.

The girl ignored her, hurrying through the wide hallway past the round mirror to the top of the long, circular flight of stairs and down into the large parlor. Her father’s voice floated in from just ahead, through a door and another hallway.<

“Father, wait!” she called, securing her flying hair in her hand — half of it was twisted up in a bun with a silver clip and the other half of her curls down and long, reaching just below her shoulders, but her fast pace threatened to knock it all down.

“Yes, Claire?” His head turned and she saw his top hat beside another man’s. He stood just outside the house, walking stick in hand.

“I’m coming with you.” She paused in the small front room and retrieved her white flowered shawl, flung it over her shoulders, and caught her breath before walking with more grace through the door into the open, dusty air. A cool breeze picked up and the sun shone through light, cotton cloud cover.

“Fine, then,” said her father, turning back to the man beside him. “If you’re ready, shall we?” He gestured to the Ford in the driveway. His guest nodded.

Claire cleared her throat lightly and stepped in front of the men, walking in as ladylike a fashion as she could muster up to the back door, which was held open by a driver she didn’t recognize. She wondered vaguely where the other boy was.

Before climbing into the car, she turned her head to the house doorway, where her mother stood with pursed lips. Claire’s lips twisted into a smile and she stepped confidently into the seat.

Boardwalk

Seems like I'll never win.

Cause I keep on being inches away from Boardwalk, which is worth the most in Monopoly, if you recall haha. But noo I always miss it. Pretty much sucks. I used to think I was good at this game, but apparently not...Ha I remember my friend used to hide her money so it would seem like she had a lot less than she really did. Then, naturally, I started using that trick. So then it was over-used and pointless.

But there's gotta be some new, never-used-before strategy that can help me win the game and finally land on Boardwalk.

I JUST CAN'T FIGURE IT OUT.

First Day

Dusty air hung like a dark sheath over the town of Utica, while the sun tipped over the horizon, radiating its faint yellow glow through the foggy darkness, calling the early morning workers to rise from sleep. They rose with groans and sighs and glares at the bellman or whoever had forced them to wake. “Laziness is a sin,” A voice boomed in one of the worker’s boardinghouses near the factories.

Jeremy, on the other side of town, awoke not to the sound of a bell clanging but to some innate sense in his body that warned him he needed to get up or he would be too late. He lay there on his not-quite-comfortable cot and stared at the ceiling for several moments in complete silence.

Chipped yellow paint stared back at him. It looked darker in this room, with only a window whose curtains were drawn so tightly with string that not even the faintest light would’ve come through, if there had been much light to speak of.

But he didn’t have much time to think.

Fifteen minutes later, he was dressed in trousers and overall straps and boots and jacket. Having quickly devoured an egg on toast – which he had received from the man who had rent him the room – and left the place, Jeremy found himself five blocks away on one of the busier roads at such an early hour.

Grimy old men and young ones who looked like near-beggars and had expressions of distrust written clearly on their faces hung around on the doorsteps of the shops and houses that lined this road. Some walked along in little groups of two or three people, making their way slowly toward the factories at the end of the road.

Jeremy’s boots hit the dirt hard, sending more dust into the air. He squinted with his hands in his pockets, scanning the relative darkness for a familiar face, hoping he didn’t look too out-of-place here.

“…oughta see this kid, looking so fine and mighty – thinks he’s all that, ya know, but I got other things on me mind,” a loud, distinctly New York accent spoke from somewhere to his right. He glanced hesitantly in that direction, and the boy caught him looking and paused his speech, glaring at the stranger.

Jeremy instinctively started to turn away and keep walking, but in half a second he changed his mind and turned back to the kid, who was probably his own age but a little shorter. “Hey you, you seen Sandy yet?” he called.

The boy made a noise in his throat and stepped nonchalantly off the doorstep he and two others were hanging on. “Got some business with Sandy or something?” he asked, with an air of something like superiority, likely to feel taller in the eyes of this nearly six foot boy in front of him.

“Yep, I do,” replied Jeremy, checking his stance to look just as cool and familiar in this place. “If you see him, tell him Jeremy’s waiting.”

The boy narrowed his eyes a little, but nodded. “Sure.” He stared at him for a second longer, then turned and sauntered back to his friends.

Jeremy exhaled slowly and turned back to the road in front of him. He moved forward, sidestepping an older man who was glaring at nothing in particular. Looking up and ahead, he squinted; the sun at that moment flashed its first ray over the town, directly into Jeremy’s eyes. His hand flew up to cover them, but too late.

“Don’t blind yourself, buddy,” Sandy called with a laugh, just ahead and quickly closing the gap between the two boys. He was alone this time and had a good-natured expression on his face. He didn’t seem as daunting as he had when Jeremy first met him.

Jeremy smiled, lowering his hand and sticking it back in his pocket, slowing to a stop. “I try not to.”

“Couldn’t find the lodge, I see,” said Sandy, smiling too. “It’s all good though, I figured you’d get lost or somethin.”

“Yeah, everything kinda looks the same,” said Jeremy, glancing at his surroundings. In the entire row of buildings on either side, you couldn’t distinguish any difference without reading the signs closely. “So where’s this factory?”

“Back there.” Sandy gestured behind him with his thumb and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His lips were chapped. “Follow me, I’ll introduce ya to the manager.” He chuckled as he turned and the two started walking down the street. “Oh, boy, you’ll like him.”

Intentions

I'm kinda sick of being "shy." I've gotten over a lot of my shyness but sometimes I still can't seem to just SPEAK to people & I realized it's annoying. I even have trouble just totally being myself still...I thought of this cuz I was thinking about acting/singing in front of people & how it's still kinda nerveracking but I have decided....

I AM NOT GOING TO CARE.

I am going to throw off this whole shyness thing. I'm done with it.

And I'm going to talk to those boys, come Sunday.

:)

And ohmygosh I really really really wanna go to the LA School of Film. But it's so expensive!! But it sounds so awesome. Like. Wow. That is the life...

And I cannot wait to get working on this senior project!!

sincerely,
stephanie

kissing

"well, now you can just go up and be like...hey, I know you, remember when we kissed that one time?"

hahaha I love me & Audrey.

Ok well school officially sucks, but I'm sure I've said it a hundred times before so I won't go into it. It's just like...soo annoying. I haven't worked on my story in days & don't even have enough time to finish putting a song to music. Or maybe I do have the time, but I waste it doing other stuff...hmm. Good thing I'm giving up Tetris starting tomorrow. Maybe I'll actually use my time wisely...maybe.

And I'm so glad tomorrow's a late start day. Stupid school effing up the schedule...we only have like 5 left. "every other week" yeah right.