Holding On A Second

There are a lot of things that God has blessed me with that I should be thankful for this year. And since it's going to be Thanksgiving for another forty minutes, I'll go ahead and list these things which I am greatful for. My Thanksgiving post should arrive on Saturday, for those of you who want to know what I was doing with myself.
Here we go. I am thankful for...
- My family
- A big house to live in
- My dad and for all he provides for my family and his willingness to go out into the big scary world to make sure we have something to eat and a roof over our heads.
- My mom and her silliness; that she’s the only one in the family who I can go to when I feel stupid or frustrated with something, that she takes care of us when we’re sick, cooks food, and runs errands without ever complaining.
- Kristen, my older sister, and that she always takes the first step in everything to test the waters out for us. I’m thankful this year that she was the one who stood up for me and dragged me to the office when I was being bullied. I’m thankful that she remembers everything and is the quietest chewer in the entire family.
- Daniel, my little brother, that he listens to me when I talk to him. That he’ll come to me when he needs advice on something. I’m thankful that he and I have the same taste in music. I’m thankful that he looks up to me, even though that puts a lot of weight on my shoulders. I’m also thankful for his beautiful strawberry-blonde hair. It’s gorgeous.
- My school, that God provided a safe-haven for me in my desperation.
- Ashley, that she was there for me this summer when I had no friends at all and that she and I, even though we don’t see each other all the time, are still close no matter what.
- Rachel and that she's so much like me that it's scary. I’m thankful she is the only other person I know who also has 4S. I’m thankful she understands me in every single aspect of my life. I’m also thankful that she gives the greatest hugs in the world. Seriously, girl, they are the best.
- Jake, my music buddy. I’m thankful he’s the only other string player in my class and that he’s helped me form our band and help me lead it. I’m thankful he’s the only boy in my class who I can talk to and relate to. Also that he doesn’t drive me completely insane like most other boys I know.
- Rebekah, that she’s always willing to talk, always smiling, and always making me laugh in one way or the other. I love that she likes to take pictures. I love that she has the biggest cat in tarnation named Norman. I’m thankful that she, too, likes socks as much as I do.
- My new youth pastor and his wife. I love having coffee with Mandee, and it really helped me get through the first couple of weeks of school. I’m also thankful for their new baby!
- I’m thankful God didn’t let me kill myself before school started!
- I’m thankful He’s spoken to me through music I listen to and encouraged me through the one place He knew I’d listen.
- That I’m so creative, even when I’m frustrated and cursing because it makes me mathematically handicapped.
- Hence, I’m thankful for the online tutoring site I use for math every single day.
- For my teachers this year. All of them are Christians and share the same views as me. I’m thankful they’re so chill about everything (except for Mrs. Johnson, biology) and really care about you as a student. I’m also thankful they pray before class every day.
- I’m thankful for contacts!
- Oranges.
- Art.
- Music.
- Cell phones.
- Facebook.
- Texting.
- ALL OF MY SEVENTEEN FOLLOWERS. Seriously, I love that you guys care what I have to say and read my blog. (Am I a suck-up? Yes. Do I care? Not really.)
- The fact that I live in America and have a future, other than some of the kids in Mexico or in Romania who really don’t have anything to look forward to in their lives.
- That I can read people’s actions like a book.
- For my job.
- For my dog, Boaz Radley. I love that huge fluff-ball.
- Bacon.
- Our country not fighting some sort of war on our own soil. That could be scary, right?
- I’m thankful for airport security.
- I’m thankful for ostriches, elephant shrews, gazelles, and polyps.
- That I’m an intelligent person who can understand things on a deeper level.
- I’m thankful for being alive. I love my life right now, save 4S, but God has been taking care of me. He knows where my life is going and how certain hardships I go through will end up eventually.

Lastly, I’d like to encourage you to take a minute (or half an hour, like I just did) to take inventory of all the things you’ve been blessed with this year. How has God provided for you in your life?
Happy Thanksgiving.

Happy Thanksgiving!



(Sexy, right?)

 Truthfully, this post has nothing at all to do with my Thanksgiving, seeing that to me, it's technically still Wednesday. It's just 12:12 AM. Anyway, I figured I'd try and post something before the holiday so that I could still post about the holiday on the holiday. Actually, I probably won't post again until Saturday, because I'm kind of a slacker, but you get the gist. Anyway, let's carry on:

I don’t post as often as I should. I think I was meaning to post on Sunday ‘cause I’d had kind of an interesting day. But now, for the life of me, I can’t remember what I was going to write about. I need to keep a little journal in my back pocket or something, so I can write down all the memorable things that people say and can put them down on here. Also, I’m probably one of the laziest people I know. I need to remind myself that blogging is not a chore, it’s something that I enjoy. Can you remember that, Steph? No.
On Friday, I spent from three thirty until about seven hanging out with Rachel at the coffee shop down the street from our school and then back at my house for about twenty minutes. We would have had a sleepover or something in order to get a portion of our social activity with one another taken care of, but she had to go to freaking Arizona for Thanksgiving.
Anyway. The beginning of this week was kind of fun. Up until Sunday I’d had no social activity whatsoever since that Friday (a long time, I know) until Jake and his dad decided to drive all the way out from Golden to come eat at the restaurant I work at. I already mentioned this, I believe. Anyhow, I had gotten my Starbucks to drink and quite literally had nothing to do, because I’m a hostess, and it was really slow. I’m beginning to think that I should get into watching football so I can be entertained by the televisions which adorn the bar. So, eventually, a tall, thin figure and a short one next to him appeared at the door. I waved.
“I hear you’re the best hostess in town!” Mr. M chuckled.
I rolled my eyes, taking the menus from the hostess stand and placing them on my hip. “Yeah, ‘cause all I do is run into fish tanks and be egregiously awkward in front of everyone.”
Brittany, the waitress stopped and gaped at me. “You probably shouldn’t be telling customers about your failures.”
Inward groan.
Anyway, I sat them in the booth not directly behind where I’m supposed to stand so I couldn’t hear them eating chips. And, because it was dead slow, I was also able to stand around and talk to them for a good hour and a half. It was great fun! And, instead of me being the awkward one, Jake kept us entertained by choking on his water and sniffling because his burrito came with green chili instead of red.

On Monday, because both of us were beyond bored, Rebekah and I decided to have a sleepover at her house. My family was also still sick and hacking their lungs out, so I thought it would be good to escape and thus remain healthy for a few days longer. Somehow, I’m still holding up.
The very first thing I noticed about her house, more accurately, her room, was that she has a huge obsession with Celtic Thunder. She had all kinds of posters, photos, and autographs taped to her bedroom walls. I felt like I needed to bleach my eyes…they were wearing kilts!
Our first activity was taking a very long walk all over the place. We found dead fish. I wore my hoodie backwards. We found a toy fire truck bigger than my entire arm and played with it. We saw a squirrel. We sat on a bridge. We sat on a bench. We talked and talked and talked and didn’t get tired of it.
After our walk, we returned to her humble abode and took more pictures than I think I ever have taken before in my life in one sitting. She has yet to post them on Facebook, but I’m probably going to have at least fifty new photos of me up by the end of the week. Seriously, it was intense. (Kind of like what, Rachel?) Also, since I brought my guitar, we did a mini band practice with just me and her. I learned two new songs on the guitar, which is a lot for me in one sitting, but it was still loads of fun. I’m beginning to have a new appreciation for music that I never had before.
Apparently, she and her sister both really enjoy the show iCarly, which I’ve was not familiar with at all. I guess it’s a show on Nickelodeon. I thought it was a little bit immature for my taste, since I’m one to thoroughly enjoy a good episode of Seinfeld any day. It had a few funny sayings, which I thought were entertaining. I don’t think I’ll be selling my soul to this show, however, any time soon. I did get her acquainted with the FOX TV show, Glee, because she is a both a singer and a dancer. When she said she’d never watched it before, I was in shock. How could someone like Bekah not be affiliated with a show so compatible with her interests? It just seemed unheard of!
The next day, we started the off with bagles (which I thought was funny because she’s half Jewish) and then went to physical therapy. We’d called Jake and Brice to see if we could get together and play some music because we’re sort of the only committed members of the sophtie band. We’re in the middle of learning some new songs at the moment, but I’m thinking that we need to stick to the same set-list until we can make something sound nice for once. Then we can move on.

The entire practice was fueled on freshly-baked cookies and coffee. We did goof off um, a lot, and my guitar pick ended up in a certain boy’s mouth, but altogether it was pretty cool. I can’t wait until next Tuesday so we can get together and do it all again…but with our beloved drummer this time!

(No, these pictures do not have anything to do with the post,
in case you're wondering or confused.)

Today, I was holed up in my room yet again because of my sick family. My dad actually made a comment on how he hadn’t seen me at all that day. I thought that was pretty weird, because I definitely saw him multiple times as I came up and down the stairs to get certain things. I didn’t actually do a whole lot. I made a list of things to do on my school whiteboard and did none of them. Nada. Zilch. Wait, actually, that’s a lie. I didn’t play on the Sims 2, which was one of the things on my to-do list telling me not to do. (Weird sentence.)

I watched Glee.
I watched Raising Hope.
I read some fanfiction. (PATHETIC, I know!)
I ate lunch.
I made Rachel a pretty sick CD. The fun isn’t in making the playlist – it’s creating the CD case. I think I spent two or three hours on it and used about half a pad of Post-Its. (Come to think of it, I never texted her back two hours ago. Frick. The poor kid’s stuck in Arizona with her extended family.)

Tomorrow should be interesting. I have no idea what we’re going to go do, seeing as we can’t go to a movie or go to a play because I’m so freaking handicapped. We’re ordering our “feast” from Sprouts Natural Grocers because my mom is sick, and can’t figure out an activity to do as a family without driving me up the wall with sounds. I have no idea what’s happening, like I said. I promise I’ll blog about it and let you all know.
Happy Thanksgiving, world! I hope it’ll be a good one for everybody.

Just A Day Late

This was all written yesterday morning, I just didn’t get around to posting it:

EEP EEEP EEP EEEP EEP!
I nearly jumped out of my jammies as soon as the alarm on my cell phone began to sound at eight-thirty this morning. I grabbed the device positioned comfortably next to my pillow and quickly silenced it, thinking that I’d just sleep five minutes longer. Because I usually set three consecutive alarms to ensure that I will wake up to one of them, I had to repeat this two more times before giving up and deciding to sleep until nine. But the next time I opened my eyes and checked the clock, it wasn’t nine, but ten-thirty.
Some days, I hate myself.
Technically, I don’t have school today, but had wanted to get a head-start of everything anyway, because I knew that I didn’t have a lot of homework to do and wanted to complete all of it today. But, now that that was out, I decided to galumph down the stairs and find a suitable breakfast. An Oreo.
Where in the world is my mother? I couldn’t help thinking as I bit down and walked back upstairs to my room. Though my hair is naturally straight, sleeping on my stomach from eight to ten didn’t do very much good for my bangs, which were sticking up awkwardly in random directions. After trying a few different hairstyles and laughing at myself about how pathetic I was, I thought about sending a picture to Rachel just to show her that I am not, in fact, able to pull off everything under the sun. But I didn't, seeing as I looked anything but attractive at the moment.
The rest of the morning, I struggled to remain focused as I tried to email myself the online link for my Spanish assignment and then print it off on the downstairs computer. My Internet Explorer homepage, however, contains about seven different tabs, one of which is Facebook, so I ran into that obstacle a few more times while completing my task.
In all, I believe I spent two hours this morning trying to calculate the age difference between me and the rest of the kids in my class, looking at Mornings With Brant’s wall photos from CURE International in Afghanistan, and commenting on other people’s statuses. Am I pathetic, or am I pathetic?
By the time my mother had made it back from Bible Study, I hadn’t even noticed her absence. She had a few mini bundt cakes from a shop in Littleton which she and the other ladies at church had been sampling for the Christmas Woman’s Dessert. I am supposed to play cello for it in a few weeks, apparently. Joy, oh, joy.
And now, here I am after I’ve finished my History homework and my Spanish homework typing away at my computer. Last night, I’d been encouraged to put another post up to entertain the other kids at school who now read my blog, and I couldn’t think of anything to post about. And then I thought about band practice and my long conversation with Rachel on the phone last night, and my uneventful/eventful morning today. I’m still supposed to do the dishes, because I was too busy last night socializing to complete them, but haven’t even started. I can’t find my special shoe inserts so my back doesn’t hurt when I do them, but I doubt my mother is going to take that excuse when she wakes up from her nap and remembers my unfinished task.

Yesterday was Tuesday, meaning that band practice wasn’t far away. Every week on Tuesdays, we always stay after school and practice on the stage for two hours. Two weeks ago, we had a fantastic get-together and were able to play and harmonize without much difficulty. Yesterday was different. Due to lack of planning on both Jake and my parts, the rest of the band was uninformed about what we were playing, what the chords and lyrics were, and how the heck we were going to put it all together. And we’d forgotten about the sheet music to the songs we’d originally been practicing.

It was chaos.
We’d talked about learning “Hero” by Abandon and figured out the guitar and cello parts to it, but entirely forgot about getting Rebekah to learn the lyrics and/or piano, and Brice, our drummer, who wasn't going to have a part written out.
Also, I’m beginning to think that there needs to be some behavioral structure to our group. I believe I need a whistle or something so that when Bekah is playing The Pink Panther on the piano while Brice is spazzing out on the drums, and Jake is playing some fiddle accompaniment on the guitar, I can get everyone to quit it and focus. It gets a little out of control sometimes. I actually had to smack Jake upside the head at one point.
I was talking to Rachel on the phone afterwards at nine-o-clock and she’d suggested that the next time we get together, we should just sit around and talk about the band. If we’re going to have any structure, everyone needs to agree on things. We still don’t have a name or anything! So I think the Tuesday after Thanksgiving, we are just going to get together and discuss things. Maybe spend some time in prayer, and have some simple worship together with a single guitar. That sounds good to me. (A if you’re in my band, please talk to me and let me know what you think.)

Later after school, as I said, I talked to Rachel on the phone for almost two hours. I kind of just felt like I needed to have a conversation with someone that day, and since I can relate to this girl so well, I thought I’d call her up. Lately, I’ve been dwelling too much on how my 4S is progressing angrily and getting much worse than it has ever been before. I’ve gotten so I can’t really eat with my family at dinner anymore without having to listen to my iPod. I’ve also foiled just about all of my family’s Thanksgiving plans to go see a play or a Christmas movie because I can’t stand being in a crowd of people. I’ve told them over and over again that they should just go anyway and leave me at home, because I don’t want to interfere with them having a good time as a family, and I can stay home and watch a movie in the quietness of the basement while they go to a theatre full of people munching on popcorn.

I also told her of my nervousness about going on my class’ Costa Rica trip this summer because about fifteen parents (almost more than the number of sophomores attending) are coming too. I’ve noticed that many of the home school mothers enjoy chewing gum, which is #1 on my list of things I hate. I’m afraid that I won’t be allowed to bring my iPod with me, or worse, be able to charge it anywhere. What if someone very obnoxious is sitting behind me on the plane? What am I supposed to do then?
So, obviously, I’m getting very frustrated with existing. As I’ve said before, it’s not reasonable for me to commit suicide, but I still think about it a lot. And, you know, now that I have a blog which everyone I know is reading, I feel like I can’t really say that anymore. (But, point taken, I am posting it now. I'm not entirely sure why. You're all big kids and can handle it, right?)

But the yesterday, I just needed to say all those things to someone. And since Rachel has 4S, too, she’s also the only other person in the world who understands what I’m talking about and was able to give me some good advice.  I love how we're so similar in just about every aspect of our lives, and that she can always me feel like I'm not completely bizarre.What are the odds that God would just put someone like that in my life so suddenly when I need it?

To Write Love On Her Arms

My handiwork (right), and my friends' (left).

 Mission Statement:

"To Write Love on Her Arms is a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. TWLOHA exists to encourage, inform, inspire and also to invest directly into treatment and recovery.


"You were created to love and be loved. You were meant to live life in relationship with other people, to know and be known. You need to know that your story is important and that you're part of a bigger story. You need to know that your life matters.
We live in a difficult world, a broken world. My friend Byron is very smart - he says that life is hard for most people most of the time. We believe that everyone can relate to pain, that all of us live with questions, and all of us get stuck in moments. You need to know that you're not alone in the places you feel stuck.


"The vision is that community and hope and help would replace secrets and silence.
The vision is people putting down guns and blades and bottles.
The vision is that we can reduce the suicide rate in America and around the world.
The vision is that we would learn what it means to love our friends, and that we would love ourselves enough to get the help we need.
The vision is better endings. The vision is the restoration of broken families and broken relationships. The vision is people finding life, finding freedom, finding love. The vision is graduation, a Super Bowl, a wedding, a child, a sunrise. The vision is people becoming incredible parents, people breaking cycles, making change.

The vision is the possibility that your best days are ahead.

The vision is the possibility that we're more loved than we'll ever know.

The vision is hope, and hope is real.

You are not alone, and this is not the end of your story" (TWLOHA).

I know this is kind of a short and belated post, but yesterday was To-Write-Love-On-Her-Arms Day!

TWLOHA is an organization which is making an effort to prevent teen suicide and self-harm. I actually have a link on the side of my site which goes to their website.
And real quick to those of you from school, I'd like to say thanks for supporting me by letting me draw on your arms yesterday! It really did mean a lot, and I hope your parents didn't get mad at you for letting me give you tattoos. I think it was worth it.

Quite Simply, Life is Beautiful

First of all, today was a great day; as are most these days. I was almost late for school due to complications with my sister’s car resulting in my mother having to drive all three of us to separate schools. When I arrived, Rachel tackle-hugged me, but I kind of had to wriggle away ‘cause I was going to be late for Algebra. Which, in that class, I didn’t understand the lesson the least bit because I’m so mathematically handicapped. So that was frustrating. Anyhow, the passing period before the next class, I was like, “Okay, let’s try this again,” and then we were able to SNL roommate huggle.
During study hall in fourth period, I was forced to endure another period with the one woman mentioned in the Pink Shirt post who chews/pops gum and has it all the time. Let me give you a little tip, I will like you as long as you never, ever happen to have gum in your mouth. You lose a little of my respect every time I see you with it.
Also, Colorado recieved its first snow of the year today! Way to be late, weather.
After school, we were able to go to the coffee shop (down the street from school) following watching an Alive at 25 seminar, which does nothing for a teenager except for scare them out of ever wanting to drive again. “If you think this won’t happen to you, it will!”
Thank you, Riley Raincloud.
Anyhow, (erasing all bunnytrails) at the coffee shop, Rebekah, Rachel, Josh F. and I were able to hang out and just have a good time together. All of us, except maybe Josh - I think, got hot chocolate and some sort of baked goods to consume after such a long and exuberating day. I asked everyone about their day, because that’s what I do, and made conversation. I found out that Rachel saves all of my text messages (Everybody say ‘Aw!’). I found out that Rebekah is almost a black-belt. I learned that snorting sugar up your nose with a straw, as illustrated by Josh, is both painful and entertaining. And also that whenever I text Bekah or Rachel, they bounce around their rooms going, “Yayayay! I got a text message from Steph! Yayayay!” Which was, you know, kind of sweet in a juvenile sort of way, but I don’t really care one way or another.
After school (I just remembered I didn’t do the dishes…) I talked to Rachel on the phone for two hours and four minutes. Let me tell you, all those seconds really added up to an interesting conversation. It’s weird how you can be so blatantly honest with some friends, and never tell your family a thing about it. I feel like I could tell Rachel anything and she wouldn’t care the slightest bit. Like, if I was, say, lesbian, she’d probably still accept me for who I am. (That is truly an example; I’m as straight as yellow hay.)

I dunno. It was like we talked about anything and everything, no secrets anywhere. I can tell you right now, I haven’t just been able to do that for…what seems like forever. We talked about boys we’ve liked, friends we’ve had, freshman year, fights, school caste systems, my first day of this year compared to hers, suicide, depression, college, sound sensitivity, fun things, music, art styles, God, and just about everything that came to mind. Mind you, the brain of a teenage female can sure jump around from subject to subject.
I just…I don’t know, I wanted to post and say how much I really appreciated someone just sitting down with me for two hours and talking to me about everything under the sun and not getting tired of anything I have to say. That just hasn’t really happened with me for a long time. Honesty can be such a beautiful thing. Incredibly…freeing. Like, if you think I say too much about everything I feel about life on this blog, I’m sure you’d be surprised about the things which have never been mentioned here.
I’d like to make it official that I no longer have more bad things going on in my life than good. My little scale has been flipped around, and the good finally outweighs all the…shit. (Sorry for the sudden vulgarity, but there is no better word to place there, honestly.) I’d also like to make it official that, while I still think about suicide, I don’t think it’s worth it anymore. I have too much to be happy about and thankful to God about right now to speed up the process of death, which I’m sure some of you will be happy to hear. Just speaking with Rachel today has reminded me of really how far I’ve come. It’s kind of awesome to look back on and see how God has been providing for me all along, even in the places where I thought nothing good would ever come out of.
I love it, quite simply.

“Are you upset little friend? Have you been lying awake worrying? Well, don't worry...I'm here. The flood waters will recede, the famine will end, the sun will shine tomorrow, and I will always be here to take care of you" ~Charlie Brown to Snoopy

No, Your Other Right!

Today was a good day. Guess why? Because I, Stephany Lewis*, have gotten my driver’s permit. Hey, yah. I have now officially driven from my house up the road to our mail box. Am I cool, or am I cool?

This morning, I woke up at eight forty-seven to make up for my late night. Isn’t it funny how you will always tell yourself to be in bed by, say, ten; but end up staying up until twelve-thirty? Yeah, that’s my life. Anyway, my mother had bought some Toaster Streusels from the grocery store, which never ever happens, so I popped one in the toaster and put the frozen icing in the microwave. About fifteen seconds later, I hear a loud pop and see that the tiny, plastic packet of sugar had exploded under the heat and was now all over the microwave. Well, I thought, that’s fun.
I cleaned it up and pulled to pastry out of the toaster. Naturally, it was cold when I bit in, and so I placed it in the microwave and burned myself trying to take it out. I can’t do anything right, can I?
So I grabbed a spatula out of a drawer and lifted it out carefully, then ate from it awkwardly with the long handle sticking up straight in the air.
“Steph?”
I spun around to see my mother, her hair wet from a shower, standing in the middle of the kitchen. She gave me a weird look, but thankfully didn’t say anything while I lowered my breakfast from my mouth. “We’re going to leave in about forty-five minutes to go get your permit,” she said. “Do you think you’ll be ready by then?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation.
As planned, forty minutes later, we were both in the kitchen. But, as had not been planned, we were running around like madwomen trying to find A.) my birth certificate, B.) my Alive At 25 legal document, and C.) the car keys.
“Okay, where was the last place you saw it?”
“Not helping!”

Thankfully, praise God, we were able to locate all three of those items, and were off towards the DMV ten minutes later. Once there, as the sign so indicated, I took a number, and my mother and I found seats to wait in until our number, thirteen had been called. The cool thing about being homeschooled is that the lines at the DMV are not very long during the school day when everyone else is at school, and not here to get their permits. So, within ten minutes, I was occupied taking the vision test.

“Okay, in a second, you’re going to see a blinking light,” the guy instructed me. “Tell me right or left.”

A light blinked on one side, but I couldn’t remember which way was right and which was left. “Uh…”
After that was the written test. The woman at the desk told me I could miss only five, and that I would go take it next to the wall over there.
“There” was a pretty vague description of where she actually wanted me to be. So when I found a seat and was just about to answer Question One, a voice barked, “No! You’re supposed to take it over there.”
She pointed this time to a row of booths where I was to stand as I took the test.
Haha, right. This is why I never go out in public.
What seemed like an hour later, I was finally confident in all of my answers and took my test over to be graded before my very eyes. The entire time I was praying, Please, God, let me pass this test. In the name of Jesus, please let me pass because I didn’t have any instruction and I didn’t study and I don’t want inconvenience my parents to bring me again to retake-
Shiz.
The crossed off the sixth problem and my heart sank. She turned it around and grinned. She freaking grinned at me. Is that how you treat a fifteen-year-old whose hopes have been dashed? No, that’s not.
“So,” she said, starting her sentences off like I normally do. Grr. “You passed the test.”
Whaaat?! No way.

I pumped a fist.

“Technically,” she continued, “you missed six, but because this law changed since this test was written,” she circled one problem marked with red pen, “you only missed five. Congrats!”

Well, hot darn.
She handed me something legal-looking and told me to go give it to this other dude standing across the room so he could put my information into the system. I turned slowly on my heel and caught my mom’s eye and grinned.
I gave the man my height, weight, eye, and hair color, and then we didn’t have my social security number for him. So I called my father, because he usually has the answers to such questions. Unfortunately, he was on a business trip and couldn’t find it for me.
“How about I call the secretary at my work in Denver and she can find it for me in my files?” he rationalized, seeing that my mother did not want to drive all the way back home to tear through his home office.
But, naturally, his secretary didn’t pick up the phone.
Dejected, my mom and I went out to lunch, hoping that he could find it on his computer like he’d told us he might have it on after he came back from his meal with a client. So my mom and I found a Tokyo Joe’s to scarf a teriyaki steak bowl for two while we planned how we could find said combination. My dad called about halfway through our lunch and informed us he couldn’t find it anywhere on his laptop, and that he was really sorry.
I was kind of crushed, but then we got a phone call right after from his secretary giving me the numbers I needed.
Back at the DMV, I had another couple of Epic Steph Moments (capitalization needed) while finishing up the process of becoming permitted.

There was the Asian guy behind the desk who talked entirely too fast. I couldn’t understand a thing he said. “Woodyoolktbeanorgnndonarrr?”
Excuse me?
“Sure,” my mom answered for me.

“Can you sign this?” another lady behind a desk asked me.

Well, certainly, I thought, signing the paper which was placed over a screen so they could record my signature on the computer. It took three tries.
“Put your right index finger on this scanner,” she instructed shortly thereafter.

So I put my right index finger on the scanner.

“Um, your right index finger.”

So I put my middle finger on it instead, thinking maybe it was the wrong finger.

“Right! Index!”

Oh, of course. My other right.

So. That's Fun.

I feel like I ruin everything. I can’t seem to get along with my family very well. I mean, my parents are good and all, but I think I fail them way too much. I fail my siblings all the time, too. Nothing I do is ever good enough for anyone.
Take today for example. All day, my back has been killing me. I didn’t bring my cello to band practice because it was too heavy, and all day I’ve been twisting in my chair trying to pop this one part of my spine behind my shoulder blade on the left side. This evening when I came home, the pain was so bad I had trouble carrying my school bin inside because of the weight. As soon as I got inside, I went to my room with a tennis ball and tried lying on the floor and trying to roll it between me and the carpet so my back would pop and relieve the pain, but it didn’t. After dinner, it was my turn to do dishes, and I felt like I couldn’t do them because of having to stand up and lean down over and over again. I was just in too much pain.
So what did I do? I asked my mom if she could possibly do them for me. She didn’t believe my story, so she told me to ask Kristen. My sister didn’t believe me either, and she apparently felt horrendous, so she told me to ask Daniel. Daniel, who was on my laptop doing homework, flew into a rage when I asked him. I told him that I would switch him my dishes night now for his tomorrow. He still refused, so I rationalized, “Why should I let you use my computer for homework if you won't switch dishes nights because of my back?”
He bitched about it, and then sent me down to ask Dad. I explained my dilemma to him, saying nobody will believe me and I just can’t do the dishes tonight. He told me to tell Daniel to come down and talk to him.
On my way back up the stairs, I was met by my red-faced brother who snapped, “Take your stupid computer!”
I’m guessing Dad convinced him to do the dishes, because soon afterwards as I lay in bed, I could hear plates and silverware tinkling as they were placed in the dishwasher. About fifteen minutes later, I received a nasty text message from Daniel which had a bad, all-too-familiar aftertaste of Michael Newman to it:

“Hey Steph! I just want to thank you for making me do the dishes today! It gave me a giant migraine that makes me want to puke! Also, thanks to you, I have a missing grade in Spanish I can’t make up! Just thought I’d let you know.”

Um.

Sorry?

What in the world was I supposed to say to that? “I’m sorry my back hurt?”

Not only do I fail Daniel, I also feel like my dad disapproves of me. He’s subtly insulted me a few times at dinner about my face and features, and has started grumbling and giving me frustrated looks every time I ask him to eat in another room. Today he snapped at me, “Why do you guys fight all the time?”

Whenever I ask him if we can go get my permit, he always exhales quickly, like a sigh, before answering me. I don’t know if it’s just that he’s frustrated at work, or if he doesn’t like me, but it still hurts all the same. I don’t see him doing it to my siblings. Maybe he liked me better when I used to stay in my room all night crying and he didn’t ever have to see me.
I'm so good at hiding when I'm hurt. Nobody even suspects a thing.