Solve For 5y+3x > Steph

Do you ever wonder what happens to the kids who just are incapable of passing math? Like, what if they really, really couldn't understand math concepts and just failed everything? Do they have special math classes for them? Do they stick them in with the special ed kids? Can they even graduate high school?

I'm one of those kids who can be taught the same lesson over and over again, and still not get it. Which is unfortunate because I go to a tiny private school that doesn't have after school math help, and my only hope of getting a tutor would be during seventh period - when I happen to have Biology. My test scores are becoming lower and lower. First, I got a C-, and an F this Friday. (F for Friday! My life is alliterated.)

When it would often take a normal child with an average brain thirty minutes to do fifteen problems, it takes me one hundred and fifteen. Take tonight for example: I sat on the couch from seven-thirty to eight and did five problems. (Actually, that's a lie - I copied them down from the back of the book because I quite honestly had absolutely no idea how to begin the problem.) I was almost at the point of tears. My mom walked in the room and said, "What's wrong?"

I looked at her. "I don't know how to do these," I choked. "Do you think it's okay to cheat and get the answers from the back?"

"Can't you call your teacher?" she sat down on the coffee table in front of me.

I slammed my textbook shut. "She has three small children which occupy her life."

"They're probably in bed by now."

"I dunno," I said, "I've sat her for an hour and a half and gotten nowhere. I don't know if a phone call is going to help me much."

I pulled my test out from my notebook. "Look, an F!"

She pulled a face seeing that I was about three seconds from bawling. "I know what it's like to not get things," she said, taking the test from my gently.

I swallowed painfully. "I don't understand why I'm so stupid."

"You're not stupid."

"Yes I am."

She told me to call my teacher.

So I did, and, of course, she didn't pick up. So I told her that I'd been at my math since seven-thirty and didn't know how to do anything. I also informed her I wouldn't have my homework completed by tomorrow and quite obviously needed some help.

So, currently, I'm sitting in my room writing this and listening to Skillet's Collide album as loud as my stereo will go. Loud music helps some, I've found.

Does anyone else ever feel this way? I seem to be about the only kid who's this mathmatically handicapped.

Consecutive Good Days in a Row: 2

Yesterday was a good day, even though I got my first F on a test. I was able to make Rachel's day better by being the only one to notice that she was sad and needed a hug. I watched an educational video about sharks with my little brother. And Jake called me at seven to see if I could participate in his orchestra, and even though I couldn't, we proceeded to talk on the phone for an hour and a half. We decided that we need to go busking (the act of playing music on a busy sidewalk for money) sometime. And we also need start a band.
I think I've just found two new great friends!

Today, my sister and I had thought we were headed up to the mountains. But, this morning, my dad was leveling the yard (again) with a rental tractor. So, apparently we weren't. Instead, she, my mom, and I went shopping in Boulder.
After a few hours and two pints of Ben and Jerry's ice cream, we ran into Michael Anderson's family in a vintage candy store. Michael is the one who's in love with Kristen, remember? I was beside myself.
"Hey!" I exclaimed. It's not often that we find people we know out of context. Let alone in Boulder. "Andersons!"
I think Michael's heart almost jumped out of his chest at the sight of Kristen. "Woah!" he said, shaking his head. "Is this sheer conincidence?"
No, Michael, we're stalking you.

There is something I'd like to say on the subject of hippies. In Boulder, there are more than enough hippies to go around. Really, people, could you be any more whimsical?
"Hey look!" my mom exclaimed while we sipped Starbucks, pointing across the street at a man wearing shorts and no shirt with shoulder length golden hair. "It's Blonde Jesus!"
Kristen nearly sprayed her coffee all over herself.
In an art gallery, I overheard an old guy wearing a tassled tie-dye shirt, long grey hair, and ripped jeans saying, "Oh, Mercury. I see. I have a friend who's just had a baby they called "Mercury", I'll have to tell him about this."
Excuse me?
There were countless overweight women in dreadlocks with jangly belly-dancing sashes. My mom promptly began to make jokes about them whenever they tinkled past. "Couldn't you see meee wearing that?"
Bad. Mental. Image. "Daniel would be scarred for life," I coughed.

Now, in conclusion after seeing the University of Colorado campus, I'll say I'd like to go there, major in psychology, minor in music or art, and then return to my reletives in Nebraska wearing a Buffs shirt. Take that, you Cornhuskers!

Coffee Break

I know I haven't posted since last week, so I'll give you a little life update. Here we go:

I kind of had a bad day on Friday. I don't know if it had anything to do with the fact that I was wearing a pink shirt, but something was definitely different. I don't know why, but I wasn't really feeling included by everyone. Nobody really talked to me, with the exception of, like, Jake and Ben. And I guess there was this party after school that I didn't know anything about. So it kind of sucked knowing that I had to go to work and wasn't told about this. It's a little hard to be the only new kid who doesn't know any of their jokes from freshman year, who doesn't know anybody very well, and is also exceptionally shy. I'm in the group; just not in the group.

And so, because it is my first reaction to everything these days, I went home and cried about it. Crying annoys me because I know consciously that teenagers can only think with their imigdula. This part of the brain is purely emotions, and not logic. The frontal lobe deoesn't even do anything. So, in the part of my brain that doesn't control emotions, I know that I'm crying about nothing. But my imigdula has other ideas. "No, we're going to cry now," it says.
Urg.

However, today was much better.

To start, I woke up on time. I made coffee that didn't burn my tongue. I wore my Vans instead of my dorky Pumas with my special shoe inserts and instantly felt just a little cooler.

In Algebra II, I didn't get the test back that I took on Friday and hadn't been prepared for. Some would say that this even was unfortunate, but I was glowing inside. I didn't really want a D on a paper today.

In History, we've been studying the ancient Greeks. And so today, we talked about warfare (which I've always found interesting). That in itself kind of made my day.

While sitting next to Rebekah in World Lit., I received a long note in my notebook about how much she loved me and thought I was not only beautiful, but awesome. Rachel also decided to do the same thing. I have now taped both the notes on the wall next to my desk to remind me I have friends.
Also, randomly in the middle of the day, Willis asked Jake why he had music in his take-home folder.
"Oh, um, I was going to give it to someone," he said. Then he called me over and handed it to me, because he knows I play cello and his quartet needed such an addition. Unfortuantly, he lives about an hour away from me and didn't work out; but it was still kind of sweet. Wrapped in a thick layer of awkwardness, but still sweet. I appreciated it.

To top it all off, I got my second study hall switched so I can sit in the teacher's lounge in peace instead of having to deal with gum-popping study hall moniters and loud kids. Some of us have 4S, people. I was able to sit quietly and read Pride and Prejudice and draw dinosaurs for an hour, which was nice.

After school, a few of us went to the coffee shop down the street to hang out. I'd totally missed out on the memo that we were supposed to bring extra clothing to change into. So, when everyone else had normal stuff to change out of, I stayed in my khakis and polo shirt.

Life: 237. Steph: 0.

Kristen had called me after we were sitting at a table to ask when she should pick me up, and I told her, "Well, I'm hanging out with friends - because I have them now - at the coffee shop. So...four-thirty?"

The other kids laughed.

"Tell her I said hi," Jake whispered loudly.

So I did, and then Rachel said the same thing. Squosh, as well.

The four of us, including Aiden, walked to a park to play for a while. It was all just...a lot of fun. I even recieved a couple hugs before I left.

Sharing My Story

I was interviewed this evening at youth group by a few guys who were filming a few kids' testimonies for a Meet Me At the Flag Pole day. I don't think I've ever shared it aloud before to anyone, let alone men with cameras and Chris Johnson, but it was fairly nerve-wracking. So, I'd trotted in shortly before they had begun to pack up (I was the last person to go), and they said they'd film me anyway before they left. I said cool, and was sat down on the sofa with a microphone clipped to my collar.
The guy began to ask my questions. "What does Jesus mean to you?"
"Jesus..." I began slowly, trying to put the words together right, "is my savior," I said. "Not just because he died for me, but also because he saved me. I mean, I might not still be here today if I didn't have him. I could be dead."
Chris' eyes slowly widened as he sat behind the guy with a camera trained on me.
He asked if I'd like to share a bit of how I got to know Jesus.
"I've always been a Christian," I said. "I mean, I grew up in a Christian home - but I didn't really have a close relationship with him until this past year. I was being made fun of at school and was really depressed, and I have 4S, which magnifies sounds so I can't stand gum and chips and stuff. The only escape I could come up with was killing myself."
"So...how did Jesus play into this?" he inquired.
"Every time I'd come home from school depressed, my mom would tell me to go read my Bible and verses would just pop out at me and really encourage me," I said. "Then I'd been praying really hard so I could get into this one school I had no chance of getting into, but look where I am today!" I gestered to my BWHS* hoodie I then sported. "I was accepted. Jesus has really helped me."
"And what would you like to tell other kids who are depressed or suicidal?"
"Just...don't do it. Don't kill yourself. You can't do that to your family, it'll affect everyone. You just need to realize that things will get better."
"What do you want people to know about Jesus?"
I paused and smiled a bit. "He loves you. I'm not just saying that because everyone does. He loves you."
He smiled back and switched off his camera, turning to his friend. "I'm really glad we got that one in," he said. Then to me, "Thank you for talking with us!"
"Thanks!" I said, walking towards the door. "It was nice meeting you!"
Chris' face had a look of wonder on it and he gave me a high five. I don't think he ever knew any of that was going on.
Later after a lot of people had left, he came and sat next to me and said, "Powerful testimony."
I half smiled. "Thanks."
"I had no idea it was at that point."
"I can't believe I'd even considered it. At my drivers class they told us to imagine how our families would be effected if we were killed in an accident, but I couldn't think of that. I thought about what it would have been like if I'd done suicide. I just can't believe what I almost did to my family."
"Steph," He put a hand on my shoulder and smiled. "I'm glad you didn't."
I put a hand on his. "So am I."
"You're an incredible kid," he said.
I frowned. I certainly didn't feel incredible. I felt horrible. "Thanks," I said.
"God's still working on you."
I laughed dryly. "Clearly."

I can't stress how horrible I feel about what I almost did to everyone. There was a night coming home from work a few months ago when I mentioned something about killing myself to Kristen and she asked me to promise her I wouldn't. And I'd said I couldn't promise that. Today she told me that that was one of the scariest nights of her life. She was so frightened just hearing me say that.
Dad would have tore himself apart, Mom would be devistated, Daniel would feel betrayed, and Kristen would feel like she'd lost her right arm. I just can't believe I'd ever thought that. I'm so ashamed and I'm so mad at myself. I hate that part of my past. I can't get over it.
If you're reading this and you're thinking of suicide, please listen carefully to what I am saying. Think of who you would affect. Whether you think so or not, everyone would be changed in some way. And not positively.
Whatever you're going through, no matter what it is, it will get better. Life could always suck more. There is always hope, and there is always help. And if you can't find someone to talk to, I am always here for you and am willing to help.
Just please don't give up.
Never stop fighting.

Happiness is A Plethora of Hugs

It's amazing how I've gone from suicidal to filled with joy in, what, four months? I mean, I haven't really had a group of friends that I love since before Christmas last year. And now, going to my school picnic today, I've not felt so loved in a very, very long time. I can't tell you how many hugs I got today!

Today was a dress-down day, so, you could wear normal clothes if you payed five dollars to the seniors. Which sounded good to me. So, I chose to wear my very favorite outfit to school, and everybody seemed to make a mental sigh and go, "Oh, good, she's normal!" 'Cause, you know, I have glasses and look beyond dorky in my school uniform. I mean, otherwise, I can work the look; but when you're wearing khaki pants and polo shirts tucked in? You hardly have a chance.
People were talking to me more than usual today (probably because of my outfit and looking not so loser-esque) and I actually got around to telling Hannah and Rachel that I was bullied last year. They looked at me like that was a totally foreign concept to them. Yes, girls, welcome to the real world - kids like me get pushed around out there. It's not pretty. I still didn't mention the fact that I have 4S to anyone, but I'm sure they'll all learn sometime.

After school, we had a picnic at a park and participated in a relay race, a cake walk, tug of war (over a river! It got a little wet), and I had to eat a doughnut on the end of a string; but only because I'm a first-year student. It was kind of sad, because I didn't get to participate in the relay race because everyone volunteered for roles before I was able to. But, what was nice was that Willis was kind of distressed that I didn't get to play. I wasn't upset about the fact, but I was touched that he'd cared enough to ask if I was okay with that and that he was sorry.
Between events, I was able to hang out with my new friends. Mainly Hannah, Rachel, and Jake; but with the other guys, too. And while we're all different from each other, I think that it's kind of cool that nobody is ever alone. Everyone's included in everything.
The juniors ended up winning the relay, and the tug-of-war, but altogether it was really fun. What really touched me was at the end, Hannah and I were walking and she asked, "So, are you liking Bird Watched High*?"
The other girls had left and she and I were walking behind some of the guys.
I smiled, "Yeah," I said, grinning ear to ear, "I absolutely love it here!"
She tackled me in a hug. "Good! Because I love having you here!"
"I love having you here!" I exclaimed.

When I was leaving with my mother, I kind of called over my shoulder, "Good-bye, everyone!"
So, Jake flings his arms open and was like, "Byyye!"
I hugged him, even though I felt quite awkward about it because I don't think I've ever hugged a guy before. It was okay, though, and it was really quick anyway, so I got over it and hugged Hannah, this girl named Holly, and Nathan.
But wanna know something? Hugs are amazing. My self-esteem has sky-rocketed.

My Failed Attempt at Orchestrism

It's funny, because whenever I start a post, I have so many ideas in my head about what I'm going to write, making me sound all awesome and deep. But, once I'm at the keyboard, my brain goes dead. But, I'll go ahead and try and make some sense anyway.

First, I'd like to say that I think I type too fast. I think it's saying a little much if I'm fifteen and can type seventy-five words a minute. Also the fact that I would go online to figure out how quickly I can move my fingers across a keyboard. Let's say it together, dork. Please take this test and comment to tell me how you did so I feel a little better.
Moving on:
I made chocolate cake and brownies today, licked the batter, and didn't get any of it on my white T-shirt. I think this is a big developmental step for me. But why was I making all kinds of cocoa-y goodness? Because tomorrow, my school is having a back to school picnic and we are going to be participating in a cake walk. I have never done a cake walk before, but, however, I have made cakes. Hopefully I'll excel sometime at one or the other.
As I was happily making a cake in the kitchen, my mother dropped in and told me to make brownies. I asked her why, and she just told me that she didn't want to be tempted to eat my cake.
Oh, I thought, good point. So I made those as well.

A few hours earlier, she and I had drove over to a church across town because my cello teacher had said that she'd gotten me into a little orchestra as part of another home school group in the area. My mother and I thought this was a marvelous idea, so we went with it and showed up this morning. Unfortunately, it appeared that my teacher had not talked to the board about letting a random student in without being accepted to the school, and I was evidently not allowed to play.
"If we let you in," the directer so calmly explained as she chomped her gum loudly (to my particular annoyance), "then we'd have all kinds of students dropping in unannounced in the middle of the semester. I'm very sorry."
As we drove back home, I turned to my mother and said, "...because the rest of the American population is just dying to be in small home school orchestras."
"They'd be coming in through the windows," Mom commented, "and through the doors with battering rams!"
Sometimes I'm so glad for my mom's sarcasm.
Anyhow; dejected, I was dropped off at the house (because my mom was going to have coffee with her best friends) by myself and went to practice guitar instead.
Later as sat on the floor next to our daschound and schnoodle reading my Biology textbook, I was feeling quite peaceful. Even if I can't get into orchestra, I'm still contented to sit with the dogs while doing my studies at home, unhindered by children wielding bubble gum.
And that's good enough for me.

Pingpingpong!

My family likes ping pong. My mom has been playing for years since she was a little girl with her cousins and is flippin' fantastic at it. I'm kind of a wet noodle who has trouble hitting the ball, but I'm doing alright, I think. It is some of the only excersize that I get. I've gone to Dr. K from my church, and he's been telling me to start being active, and I have. I'm really proud of myself. My mom and I have gone on three walks in the past week, and I've also been doing the Hundred Pushup Challenge and the Two Hundred Sit-Up Challenge to strengthen my abdominal muscles and my back muscles so my back won't be in so much pain all the time. And, I think it's starting to help. So, if you're feeling a little bit flabby and are up for it, follow the links above and begin your own challenge!

I think there are mice living in my walls. I don't know how many, but I can hear something chewing on - I think - piping under my heat regester. My cat has been sitting next to it all day, but she hasn't found anything. I'd set up an elaborate mouse trap last week when they were on the other side of my bedroom constructed of a chair, a ramp, a box next to the chair, and a toilet paper tube teetering over the box on the edge of the chair with peanut butter in it. Did I catch my mouse? No, I did not.
My cat is a mouser. Only, she's a lazy one. Whenever she finds a mouse in my room, she'll sit and watch it all night while it cowers cornered in a frightened little ball. When she finds one in the basement, she makes sure to kill it and bring the guts up to leave on the floor as an offering for me. (Okay, that was a really nasty sentence, but I just wanted to say she does. I always feel like puking every time she does it.)
Anyway, I just wanted to share my rodent frustrations with you all because nobody else in my family seems the least bit concerned while I sit here and worry about catching the junta virus.

Tomorrow, I have school. I normally have school on Tuesdays and Fridays anyway, so Labor Day didn't really do anything for me. All I did today was follow my mom around town while she ran errands. But, my point was that I really like school. It's cool to not worry about what school's going to be like the next day. I've said this before: I love it! And wanna know something sad? I really like wearing uniforms because it makes me feel like I belong somewhere.

I hope you all had a great Labor Day and a great three-day-weekend and that you are having a great day :)

Friend Found This For Me:

I think it's pretty accurate. And I wish my life had subtitles.

Papa

Usually, my Fridays begin at 5:15 am. It's usually dark, the wood floor of my room is cold, and I'm the only one awake. Makeup, hair, lunch packing, and coffee making takes me to 6:20 (or today, 6:15), and then I'm in the car with my dad. We listen to the radio; even though I know he doesn't like my favorite morning program. But, he never makes any attempt to change the station, nor has he ever complained.

I'm learning a lot about my dad. I appreciate him more than I used to. I know I'm starting to see a different side of him than I knew a year ago. Maybe it has something to do with God opening my eyes to others and their sufferings, but maybe it doesn't. Maybe my heart hasn't changed at all. Even so, I'm now aware of all that he does for my family, but doesn't get acknowledged for. All the work he puts into taking care of my mother, my siblings, and I. House payments, groceries, medical bills. He's stressed all the time, but I've only heard from my mom and not his own mouth. I'll ask, but he'll water it all down so I won't have to worry. Then he'll ask me what I'm doing in my classes, and the subject is too quickly forgotten.

We get out of the car, now in the parking lot of my high school. He carries my book bin into the school, even though he has a bad back, without complaint. He knows I have the same condition - inherited from him. He hugs me and kisses my cheek, saying he hopes I have a good day at school and that he loves me. I do the same.

Feel Free to Tar and Feather Me.

Sorry, I totally promised that I wouldn't forget to post as soon as I started school, and what did I do? Forget. So, let me start where I left off.
The first day, I wore my favorite uniform outfit: Pink shirt and khaki capris. The bad thing? Every single freshman girl was wearing the same uniform. Fail.
(Feel free to skip this paragraph about classes): First period is algebra, and I don't understand it at all. In a normal school setting, it would be kind of alright that I didn't, becuase I could go in after school and get help, but not at Bird Watched High*. So, I'm kind of left to fend for myself and just do my homework. If I get it, that's fantastic, if not, sucks for you.
I love my history class. My teacher, Mr. Borton, is the coolest guy in the world. He's serious, layed back, but still manages to be a pretty strict teacher. Which I love, because he gives a lot of rules; and I like rules becuase I like to be told what I should do. Plus, history is a subject I could just inhale. I love it! Everything about it. It's so interesting.
My literature teacher is a world different than my English teacher last year. I'm not sure if I've told you about my psycho, pain-in-the-arse English Honors teacher, Mr. Golden. I think he wanted all of us to fail. He was mean, he didn't care about you, he was vague, and he looked like a caveman. But this year, Mrs. Zane is a sweet, old lady who speaks slowly and clearly; wanting you to understand and willing to take time for you.
My Spanish teacher, Mrs. Graving, is hilarious. She's like Tina Fey in person. Today she was making fun of the textbook becuase the situation in Spanish was like, Estudiante A said: "I don't really like our Spanish teacher", and Estudiante B sits up streight in his chair and looking down his nose in a British accent responds, "One must follow the rules."
Biology is boring, and I don't really understand it, but my book quotes scripture! How cool is that? Instead of trying to explain to me that human evolved from apes, it has an entire chapter explaining why that wouldn't work. Awesome? Awesome.
(You can be done skipping.)

Remember how I said I was worried I wouldn't fit in? I've made all kinds of friends! My class of 2013 has seven boys and five girls, including me, and I was the only new kid. The girls I met are Rachel, Rabekah, Alyssa, and Hannah (who loves Skillet almost as much as I do!). It's awesome, because by the end of the first day, Rabekah and Rachel were ready to give me a hug before they left school. By the second day, I'd had a good long discussion about music with Hannah at lunch, and Alyssa and I had hit it off really well. By the third day, a boy named Jake had started to repeat everything I do (exaggerated hand motions, occasional screeches, and mirroring my faces). Another boy named Aiden had started telling me about the things he does to small animals, (like blowing up frogs and prairie dogs and setting snakes on fire). Nathan even carried my textbook and binder bin to the car because it was too heavy for me! Boys hold doors open, too.
Do you remember the verse I put at the end of my testimony post? "For you intended to harm me, but God intended it for good; to accomplish what is now being done" (Genesis 50:20). For the longest time, I didn't ever recite the last part, "to accomplish what is now being done", because I thought it wasn't relevant to me. I was focusing on how I wanted to believe I hadn't been harmed by Michael, but it makes perfect sense now. For the first time in a long time, I can go home and tell my mom I had a fantastic day at school; because I have! I enjoy school now. I have friends. Now I can see how God has been faithful in the trials he put me through, because it has resulted in being put into this school. I can't think of a better place to have been placed.

" 'For I know the plans I have for you'," declares the LORD, "'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future'" (Jeremiah 29:11).

An Ordinary Day.

Today I left my phone in my room and recieved no text messages. I checked my email, but had nothing new in my inbox. I checked Facebook and had no notifications. Then I checked my blog to see if I'd gotten any comments; I hadn't. It's kind of sad that we base our worth on the amount of interaction we have with others electronically. Maybe everyone else has a life and I just don't?

How Do You Make An Ordinary Situation Hilarious? Turn the Jazz Station On.

Thank you all for voting on my poll about pets. If you haven't, please feel welcome to do so! I would have never known that someone owned a saber-toothed tiger until a today had I not set that up. Wherever you live, mysterious cat-owner, remind me to keep a good three hundred yards away from your house whenever I pass by it. I'm in awe that you have managed to survive so long with such a ferocious animal as a beloved pet! Tell me, what is it that you feed it?

In other news, my best friend, Fang, who happens to be a poet, has this blog called Believe Your Voice Means Something. It's a collection of her work, and she also has nobody reading it to review her pieces. So, it would mean a lot to her if some of you could go and look at it! Thanks!

Yesterday, my brother started school and my sister had to help with freshmen orientation. Today, they are both in school while I am not because I got to private school. Kristen was done with her thing by twelve, so my beautiful mother and I joined for for a while. Know what's kind of sad? I walked around Forever 21, the most random clothing store I've ever crossed paths with, for fifteen minutes and didn't find anything to get. After Kristen the Pretty and Skinny got out of the dressing room with her six shirts that suited her perfectly, she and my mother were all over the store trying to find something for me to wear. The annoying part? They found something within two minutes. I think my problem is that I honestly have no fashion sense. But that doesn't mean that I don't look good in things that my sister and mother pick out for me, which means that I am now two shirts poorer than I was. I'll plunge into a fashionless oblivion once Kristen leaves for college. Thank God she's only a senior this year!
Kristen left after we shopped a little while, not finding anything, and so my mom decided she wanted to take me to the Cheesecake factory, which happens only in a blue moon. Partially because we have, like, no money. But, because we're in the family we are, we both know exceptionally well how to save money. Like to order basket of bread and only one slice of cheesecake to share, and one coffee instead of, say, a BLT with shrimp and garlic salt with a side of freshly-cut french fries. What we got only cost us eleven dollars. Skill? I think so. And we've managed to keep our little mother-daughter date secret from my siblings. (Know how kids spell "love"? T-I-M-E.)
The two of us then went to Target and I bought an additional two shirts and a pair of jeans. Ninety dollar paycheck well spent!

It rained yesterday, and I sat out on the front porch in the hammock to read a book. It's cool to watch how storms progress. First, it begins to get really dark; then it starts to sprinkle, then the downpour. I sat and shivered for a long time, but I loved it. My dog, Bo, came up and sat next to me in the chair I moved to after a while, and it just seemed so...peaceful. I haven't felt that way in a long time.
My mother called me in for dinner of spinach quiche, to which my twelve-year-old brother promptly began complaining about, piling cantaloupe high on his plate and refusing to eat anything else. I thought, is this seriously the kid that is the quarterback for his little football team? (He also cries whenever I accidentally hurt him and acts like he needs to be taken to the emergency room, but laughs it off whenever he's with his friends...) My mom resorted to feeding him like a baby.
"Heeere comes the airplaaane!" she crowed, making an engine noise with her mouth and trying to shove quiche in through his.
"We should turn some classical music on," Kristen suggested. "Everything's much more comical whenever there's a symphony playing."
"Like in movies!" I added.
Dad got up and turned the jazz station on.
Then we couldn't stop laughing at him. While he pulled a face while he was chewing, there were saxophones going, da dum ba-da bum...
"Stop giggling at me!" Daniel growled at me from across the wide table.
Which, of course, made me laugh harder. His glare hardened, and then a singer went, "I need to tell you I looove yooou!"
His eyes widened, and his frown quivered into a suppressed smile which continued to grow until he ended up laughing with the rest of us. I feel the need to videotape the rest of our family dinners.

Today, youth group was at my house because we always have it at our house at the end of the year. We're the people with the huge, huuuge thirty-six acre yard. Ashley (Fang) was there to entertain me, and my other friends that made it were Michael Anderson, Alex, and Mikayla (who is a freshman as of today :).
Towards the end of the night, Chris Johnson thought it would be a great idea to pay Michael and Alex ten dollars to eat a spoonful of cinnamon. They were all for it, especially because both Kristen and I were the ones running all about the house trying to find cinnamon for them to use. The results, however, were purely entertaining. I have never seen anyone blow any type of powder out their nose before. Michael is a weenie in disguise, so he quickly dashed off in a random direction and proceeded to puke, while Alex, the determined one, slowly managed to swallow the whole thing, and then puke. Everyone was laughing so hard they were crying! It was so comical. I kind of wish classical music could have been playing. Alex even won his ten bucks.

How to Cheer You Up a Bit:

• 1 Mug of water.
• 1 Tea bag of your favorite fruit tea (peach is especially good).
• 1/4 Cup 2% or whole milk, or even cream!
• 1 Tablespoon of honey (or more, if you prefer).

Place tea bag in water. Then put the mug in the microwave for about two to three minutes. Then, add milk/cream. Then add the honey and keep tasting it until it's sweet enough. Sip slowly while reading favorite book and feel much better.

Know What's Great? It's Story Time With Steph.

Today, I woke up and within thirty seconds, the doorbell rang. Let me remind you that I live out in the middle of freaking nowhere and this, like, never happens. The second thing that happened was a heard my pastor, Harlan, 's voice greeting my dad; which also never happens. (I feel like I use semi-colons far too often, do you agree?) My first thought was, Dang! Now I can't wear that shirt I bought yesterday with Kristen at Target! because I was planning on wearing it Sunday.
Life: 2,354. Steph: 0.

Also, if you have three hours to spare, like I so often do, you should read this. Particularly if you're a big Maximum Ride fan, and even if you're not. It's called Diary of a Lovesick Mutant and is the most brilliantly written fanfiction I've ever stumbled upon. It's not often that the word "bacon" is put into every single three thousand word chapter. But, it's really good, so even if you don't believe me, you should just read the first chapter anyway.

Yesterday, as I mentioned, my sister and I went out to go shopping because we'd both gotten our meager little half-paychecks on Saturday last week and hadn't spent any of it. Before we left, Kristen babbled on about how, according to this book she's reading written by some random gay guy, certain colors are your "romantic" color and are supposed to match the color of your index finger after you've pinched it. MIND BLOWN MUCH? (By the way, we still can't figure out what color my eyes are. I'll have to post a picture sometime and see what you all think, dear followers.)
So, anyway, the two of us climbed into our rickety old silver '88 Volvo Stationwagon and headed off to Target. Kristen ended up getting pissed off at me for psychologically analyzing her (because that's what I do) on the way over. Note that on a side-note that while I love Kristen I hate clothes shopping with her because she's tiny, skinny, and wears a size 1 jeans. Not only that, but she's, like, eleven times prettier than I am and looks good in everything.
She picked out at least five shirts for me to try on, including something that I thought was hideous and looked like something my mother would wear. But, as it turns out, I ended up buying it because it was cute on me and made me feel good inside - which doesn't happen all that often. So, I walked out of the store with said shirt and a bottle of shampoo as big as my face. Kristen didn't end up buying anything.
Then after that, because we're teenage girls and thoroughly enjoy shopping, we drove to Plato's Closet (teen consignment store) to look at clothing because I needed jeans. Badly. The sad thing was that neither of us found anything there, either, and so we went to McDonalds and ate our feelings because it made us feel better.
Kristen, suddenly in a better mood and feeling very courageous with a tummy full of a Ranch Stack-Wrap and medium fries, decided we were going to attempt shopping at Target once again. I said okay.
We walked in through the automatic entree doors (me with my fries at hand) and headed straight for the clothes section, where Kristen quickly located a shirt she'd tried on an hour ago (a cute, black, knitted Mexican-style V-neck). "Haha!" she exclaimed. "Wanna go see if we can find a Justin Beiber CD?"
I laughed a little. "Sure, why not?"
"Because how funny would that be if we just stuck that on your iTunes and Daniel synced his iPod to it unknowingly?"
I grinned.
"Then," she continued, "wouldn't that be fantastic if he put his iPod on shuffle and had a mental heart attack when a Justin Beiber song randomly popped up?"
"Let's go!" I said, and we quickly began making it over to the CD section.
But we stopped within a heartbeat when we saw the unthinkable: Michael Newman and his mom walking down the aisle with a cart. I let out a little shriek.
"We're going this way!" I whisper/yelled.
We did a 180, and began to scurry away as fast as we could. They began following us, and I was one hundred percent sure that they'd spotted us. Then a fantastic idea came up on my screen. "I suddenly feel the need to throw my McDonalds fry-holder away!" I exclaimed loud enough for him to hear me and darted through the register lines to find a trashcan.
When he'd passed and was a safe distance away from my sister and I, we made our way over to the Justin Beiber CDs anyway. But, not finding it in ourselves to actually buy anything, we turned away and looked at DVDs instead because I had mentioned earlier that morning I would like to rent a chick flick to watch that night. 10 Things I Hate About You, while tempting, was way out of our price range, so we settled on getting Get Smart and Sense and Sensibility instead.
So, to end our frivolous day, Kristen and I locked ourselves in her bedroom and watched the Jane Austen film huddled on her pink shag rug eating mugs full of chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream. What a great way to end a day!
In conclusion, shopping is not entirely bad when you're with the right person. And the next time I'm wearing fuzzy socks, I'm going to burst into my sister's room and yell, "Kristen! I'm getting fuzzical!". That would be such an epic win day.

Happy Monday, World.

So, my week is off to a great start. Not. I've been looking at my school and biting my lip about it. I'm not sure if I'm excited or not to go. Here's a list I've put together.

Cons (notice they're before the pros, because I'm a pessimist):

• There are only fifteen kids in each class.
• I'm probably one of the only kids at the school to transfer from private school. I hope they don't see me as a heathen.
• No snacking (which is a pro, also), but I'll get hungry.
• Only two days a week.
• Starts a week after my siblings go to school, so I'm home alone. Yaaay.
• Uniforms! Yikes! Khaki pants and polo shirts...tucked in!

Pros:

• Michael Newman, Sara, Ryan, and Christina do not go there! I don't have to worry about running into them!
• No orchestra.
• Two days a week.
• No gum.
• No snacks.
• Christian.

I'm nervous. Like, really, really nervous. What if the kids don't like me? What if I sit next to the wrong person on the first day? What if I wear my uniform wrong (or as wrong as khaki can go)? What if I have the wrong school supplies? What if someone has a cold and is sniffling? What if my backpack is too dorky? What if I go to the wrong class?
These are the questions that haunt me. Did I mention I have to wear khaki??
But, what was cool this week is that my family can't afford to go to Bird Watched High* for three thousand a year, and my grandparents called on Saturday and told my mom they wanted to pay one thousand a semester for it! How cool is that? And my mom got a job offer! Thank you God.
On Saturday also, I forgot to mention, I went to Heavenfest with my youth group. Basically the largest Christian event in Colorado that you can attend. It had seventy bands, seven stages, and went twenty-four hours. Crazy, right? So, I got a chance to watch Disciple, Kutless, BarlowGirl, Thousand Foot Krutch, Hawk Nelson, and The Devil Wears Prada (which was my first screamo band experience. It was surprisingly awesome). It was really hot most of the day, and even though there was free water, you had to stand in line for about twenty minutes in order to refill your water bottle. On the plus side, though, you got to listen to music anywhere you were; even in line. I mean, what more could I possibly want? It was a really fantastic day, although we were all sweaty, dirty, and tired by the end.
Yesterday, a band called The Ineloquent came to play at my church and lead worship. They have some really cool music! We bought one of their CDs, which unfortunately didn't have the song that I liked that they played called "Gravity". It talks about how we can't see God, we can't hear God, but we know he's there; just like we can't see gravity, but can feel its pull; or how we can't see wind, but can see it shake trees. I thought it was a really cool way to disprove the accusation that God isn't there because he doesn't have a face. Anyway, feel free to check them out or maybe even invite them to play at your church! They're a small band looking for places to play, and they're on tour.
Well, tomorrow I have another doctor's appointment with a doctor who goes to my church that I've know all my life to see what he can do for my back. I also have to shower and eat something, because I'm starving. I'm always starving, no matter where I am or what I'm doing. I think there's something wrong with me, which wouldn't surprise me the least bit. I'm a rolling ball of issues.

VBS: Is It Sad I'm Enjoying It Way More Than the Kids?

My church has done VBS for as long as I can remember. And each year, it's been pretty darn elaborate. When we started out, Benny Chang's mom was the head, and every year was fantastic. Things aren't as cool now, but Makayla Miller's mom is doing pretty well. We've set up something with this other church (which is freaking huge) so we can borrow all of their sets for our themes. So far, we've done "Avalanche Ranch", "Crocodile Dock", and, now this year, "High Seas Expedition".
This year I'm old enough to be a group leader. No, not a helper - a leader. At first, I thought my group was going to be me and Makayla (who I've also known since I was little and is the peanut butter to my jelly) and then the kids, but it got switched. The girl who I thought was going to be my sister's helper, Ilysa, who I don't really like at all, ended up taking Mak's place due to lack of staff. I was pretty bummed. Then came the kids in my group.
Team "Salty":
There's Mattie (6), who is the youngest of the Johnson family's adopted African kids; Casey (6? 7?) and his friend Kurtis; sisters Hadley (8) and Taylor (7?) who are both adopted from China; Jocelyn (9?), who is Ilysa's little sister; Logan (3), who is allergic to everything; and Matthew Quarter (11). I hate Matthew Quarter.
The first day was kind of crazy. Ilysa was not helping me at all. She, instead, was talking and making fun of everything with Matthew and Jocelyn while I chased small children around from station to station. It's a good thing I had to leave early for an interview for Bird Watched High School* (which I got accepted, by the way!), or I would have lost my mind.
I complained to Dana (head VBS person?), and she was able to get me another helper named Simon Hayden (12) to assist me. Things have been noticeably better since then.
The Schedule? Praise, Crafts/God-Sightings, Games, Story Time, Snack, Praise, End. It takes two and a half hours.
I feel like the lessons have been great. The kids are following Paul and Peter's journeys after Jesus ascended into heaven as they evangelize to the Gentiles. Hence High Seas Expedition. So far we've learned through them that God's Word is True, God's Word is Comforting, God's Word is Surprising, and God's Word is Life-Changing.
Today was the most intense day we've had so far. We played all our activities on how Christ laid is life down for us because we deserved to die and he didn't want us to. I've been realizing exactly the extent of what Jesus did for me on the cross these past two months since Kyle started being our youth pastor. Like, every single one of my sins would take an eternity in hell to pay for just one. Jesus not only took all of my sins, though. He took the entire worlds'! Past, present, and future. Every single person's. And he bore all of that in three hours.
Dude.
That is intense.
Wanna know my God Sighting today? I got into Bird Watched High* a few days ago, and I barely even met the qualifications. It costs three thousand dollars a year, which is more than my family can pay for. My grandparents called this morning and told my mom that they wanted to pay one thousand dollars of my tuition each semester I was in school, and my mom got accepted for a job at the pastry shop. I didn't think I could pass the math placement test to get into Algebra II, and the board decided I didn't have to take it because I had evidence of having a B in Geometry last year.
God is truth! God is comforting! God is surprising! And most of all, God is Life Changing. VBS lessons aren't just for kids, folks, they're for highschoolers, too!

*You are aware I change the names of everything, right?

Friends and Family

So, Kendra, I totally am stealing your idea of telling everyone who's who in your life in a post so that people don't get confused and I don't have to keep explaining how I know people.
Anyway, here we go.

Family:

• My adoptive dad (also answers to "God") is the creator of the universe. He's adopted many other kids all over the world, and helps every one of them who need it. He also knows every single one of them like they were his only child, which is really cool, because he takes all that time out of his day to talk to a couple billion of them. He resides in a really big house, you know, way up there.
• My earthly Daddy (Lee) is a civil engineer. He's a very calm guy, very strong, very smart. I couldn't think of a better guy to have in my life and raise me the way God would want me to live. Even in the most dire situations, you can always count on my dad to remain calm.
• Mom (Karen) is a freelance artist. She's sparky and silly and one of the strangest people I have ever met. And I wouldn't have her any other way. She and I are very close, and very much alike.
• Kristen (17) is a senior in high school. She's also spunky and silly, but also has a very stern side to her like my dad does. She's also pretty dang strict. But, she and I are like two peas in a pod, giggling and teasing each other to no end.
• Daniel (12) is a seventh grader. He has the most beautiful strawberry-blonde hair. He's beginning to become one of those stupid teenage boys who don't know how to do anything and don't want to do anything other than skate, text, and hang out with his little girlfriends. He also doesn't want to do anything my mom asks him to.

Pets:

• Maggie (9). A black miniature, neurotic, schnauzer-poodle. That stupid dog won't die.
• Sabine (8). Our black miniature daschound with a long, bald scar down her back and a bite out of her ear. We adopted her from a shelter a year ago and have no idea what happened to her. But, she's very sweet.
• Boaz (2). Big, white, fluffy maremma sheepdog. Kind of a dope, really nice, but a great guard-dog.
• Summer (6). My cat. Grey, cute, and mellow. Never comes downstairs.
• Cocoa (6). My difficult buckskin horse.
• Keena and Allie (6 and 7). Identical creamy Indian paint horses. We've had them a year and a half and I still can't tell them apart.
• Bonnie (3). The baby, brown, black, and white paint horse. She's the little sister of Keena and Allie who injured her leg and almost had to be put down. But, now since she's been man-handled so much, she likes human company a lot.

Friends Close Enough to Be Family:

• My godparents (Kent and Sheila) and godsisters (Sydney, 17; and Cecily, 15). My mom and Sheila used to be roommates, and are now best of friends. Strangely enough, she ended up having her two daughters around the time that my mom did, and so now Kristen and I have best friends who live in Washington State that we never, ever see. But, we love them :)
• Chris and Cathy, our youth leaders. Two of the tallest people I know, and both loads of fun. Chris and Kristen are like brother and sister, even though he's almost in his thirties. He makes fun of everything Kristen does because she's so darn tiny and he's so darn giant. Cathy used to be my mentor.
• Rachel (15). One of my two best friends, Rachel and I are so alike that it's scary. She absolutely loves dinosaurs and skinny jeans, also has 4S, and just understands me. I love her to death :)

Friends:

• Kyle, my youth pastor, and his wife, Mandee. They have a two year old daughter named Karis and a one-month-old son named Owen.
• Ashley "Fang" (15). She's one of my two best friends that I met at youth group. She's Asian and "scene", not emo, she says. She understands me more in personality, which balences Rachel as the one who understands me situationally. I don't know what I'd do without either of them!
• Ruby (15). How cool is it that she has red hair? She and I have been best friends since the fourth grade. I had to leave our old elementary school because it was private and expensive, but we've communicated long-distance ever since.
• Alex (16). He's short. He's awesome. He's Alex. A kid wise beyond his years.
• Rink (20). She's was a senior when I was a seventh grader, but now she's our summer youth intern.
• Hannah (15). From my school. Short, awesome, and loves Skillet almost as much as I do! She also always has awesome shoes :)
• Jake (15). From my school and one of my closer friends there. He's very tall and skinny, but hilarious, quirky, and twitchy. He also has a way of slithering away and just appearing next to you suddenly. Best friends with Rachel.
• Rebekah (15). From school. I don't really know a lot about her except she's funny and tiny and has red hair. She also enjoys hugs, is best friends with Alyssa and Nathan (I think?).
• Alyssa (15). From school. I also don't know a ton about her. But, I love her, she's very nice, laughs a lot, and is best friends with Rebekah.
• Nathan (15). From school, not a lot known about him. He's nice and carried my bin to the car one day, which I appreciated greatly thanks to my bad back :)
• Ben (16?). He talks to me in my first study hall period. He's Jake's older brother by thirteen months.

Other Important People I May Mention:

• Sara Moore (15). She used to be my best friend the first half of freshman year, and then betrayed me to remain friends with Michael Newman.
• Michael Newman (15). Used to be my best friend in eighth grade, but then turned and bullied me all of freshman year.
• Ryan (15). Enthusiastic atheist. Also an enthusiastic persecutor of Christians after he stopped being friends with me at the middle of last year.
• Christina (15). I actually don't know why she hates me. I think it was because she was in love with Michael, and I hated him. I was always ever looking out for her (because she was depressed, suicidal, and cutting herself), and was trying to help. But she just hated me.

Bloggers:

• Kendra Logan! I've actually never met her in person, but Internet-wise, we're pretty good friends. Kendra, I would like to tell you right now that I'm not a creepy, forty-year-old man trying to find out information about you so I can come to kill you with a chain-saw!

That's me and the people in my life. How about yours?

Cows and Cows and Cows.

Things I Hate:

1. Boys.
2. Friends who make my life awkward.
3. Having to switch schools. The process is long and complicated.
4. When things don't go according to plan. My stupid, thought-out-by-a-fifteen-year-old plans.
5. Cats who pee on your new comforter, sheets, and mattress and make your room smell like a nursing home.
6. Not being able to drive.
7. Hormones.
8. Writer's block.
9. My fatefully creative brain. How come I can't be good at being book smart? How come I can't remember anything anyone teaches me?
10. Being a pessimist.
11. Being fifteen.
12. Having a catrillion medical problems my family can't afford to fix.
13. Not being filthy rich like 90% of my old school.
14. Having 4S.
15. When my computer freaks out and acts like the world is going to end if I "don't find a power source soon" because I have 7% power left on my laptop.
16. Mothers who hate sappy things. I happen to like sappy things; what's wrong with that?
17. Having to list these things out on my blog because I have no friends to complain to.

It's Wednesday, People.

So, Ashley spent the night at my house last night and we talked a while about future careers. I'd like to be an artist. I really would. It's always been my dream to attend Columbus Art Institute just like my mom did and become some sort of famous artist. But, I know that that's not probable, and the only artists who become famous are, like, prodigies. I'll probably be dirt poor and single with only a German shepherd named Forte to keep me company.
On the other hand, I could become a vet, have said dog with a successful husband who loves me and 2.4 children to keep me busy outside of work. Would I be as happy? I'm not sure.
Ashley says her family is urging her to become a musical therapist, pleasing small crowds of six old, dying patients in nursing homes by dinging triangles and shaking tambourines to simple tunes. That's not really what she wants to do, she says. She's always loved performing arts like drama and symphonies, not therapy.
The whole money thing really puts a damper on your dreams. Never tell someone who's good at drawing to say you wish you could draw like them, because let me tell you this: NOBODY NEEDS ARTISTS. Artists make no money! If you're good at math and can't draw, consider yourself lucky. You're good at something useful.
I'm like, "Thanks, God, for gifting me with useless talents."
Writing, drawing, and music.
I understand writing is useful, like James Patterson is a fantastic storyteller. But I'm not fantastic. I'm good.
"Good" doesn't make the cut.
That's all I have to say about that.

Today my brother fell off a horse. Ashley, him, and I were all riding around our property today, and our maremma sheepdog, Bo, decided it would be a good idea to try and play with Allie. The horse Daniel just happened to be riding. Now, let me tell you something: Daniel is not a good rider. On top of all his flaws in this area, he doesn't ever hold his reins tight enough.
If your reigns aren't tight, you can't stop your horse if they suddenly flip out and start booking it in a random direction.
So, Bo freaks Allie out, and Daniel is now being carried at top speed in said direction with no control. He never really screams unless he's really, truly scared for his life (like the time he was hallucinating when he was sick one time and thought a cruise ship was going to fall on his room...), so when I heard him really screaming, I knew something was up.
It was practically in slow motion. One second he's on the horse, and the other, he's being flung into the air onto the hard, Colorado plains' soil rear-first. Thankfully, Mom had talked him into wearing a helmet, so no major damage was done to his head, but he has a nasty bruise now on his upper thigh where he fell. He's also milking his injury to get out of, say, helping me watch a spastic two-year-old or doing the dishes by himself.
Well? Boys will be boys. And those who are prepubescent and lack masculinity...