Tuesday, January 10, 2012

I have no idea if this story is any good or not because I just wrote it, but what do you think?

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Stephanie Duncan made the conscious decision to not wash behind her ears one morning for much the same reason everybody else eventually does.
Not because it felt particularly pleasant to keep the area behind her ears dirty, as she could earn much the same effect by actively plastering thin layers of mud to the sides of her face; not because she was the paradigm of filth and ear care neglect, as she took after her clean freak of a mother; and not because she was hell-bent on breaking her clean freak of a mothers poor, germophobic heart, as she was a complete mama’s girl and could not stand the thought of earning mother’s disapproval, but because she was simply tired of doing it.
For months she’d fought the urge to succumb to the filth and laziness, and honestly she hadn’t even fully intended on giving in even when she did, but it was such a tedious process by then and her stupid little brother had used up all the hot water in the shower so it was freezing cold and it had been a long day and, damn it, she was tired.
So, after she hurriedly finished rinsing her hair, she shut the water off, snugly enveloped herself in a towel, and stepped onto the bathroom rug outside the shower. At the time, she didn’t think much of it, but within an hour the guilt and fear started to set in.
The grime of sweat and dead skin had completely crusted over behind her ears by then. Because of her carelessness, she was no longer clean or pure, but permanently, irrevocably stained and no amount of showers would fix it, for even if Stephanie vigorously scrubbed and clawed at the unclean areas for the rest of her life, there would still remain that one follicle of dirt, that one unyielding, inexpungible, ugly as sin, microscopic spot and the terrible knowledge that it was all her fault.
Oh, how could she have been so stupid, so lacking in diligence? Why, Mother would die of shame if she knew! Oh, God, Mother—what if she found out?
True, unclean ears were easy enough to hide. A hat or a few tufts of hair perpetually covering them, and everything would be dandy—unless the dirt was to spread. If the dirt were to spread, the best case scenario would be an ear infection. At the thought, Stephanie shuddered. Definitely not fun. Still, an ear infection at least offered several possible fake causes Stephanie could give if anyone were to ask: she’d been swimming and gotten water in her ears, she’d had a terrible head cold and the mucus somehow clogged an ear-tube, she’d been diving and hadn’t cleared her ears correctly; so on and so forth. Yes, if Stephanie’s health had to be compromised at all by her ear neglect, her best bet was an ear infection. Her worst was that terrible, terrible disease that only affected females. Detangerpmi.
It was not only one of the most common and painful possible side effects of unclean ears, but also one of the most shameful because it was a dead giveaway. Symptoms included, but were not limited to, constant nausea, mood swings, perpetually aching breasts, diarrhea, and extreme increase in appetite that usually resulted in near obesity. Under very rare circumstances it could and had been hidden under the guise of a particularly malicious stomach flu or even a growth spurt if one didn’t get the nausea too bad. Sooner or later, however, detangerpmi always had a way of revealing itself.
For one long, terrible, heart-rending month, Stephanie lived in fear and dread until she finally couldn’t take it anymore and scheduled a doctor’s appointment.
Never more thankful for doctor-patient confidentiality, Stephanie told the doctor what happened. The doctor ran some tests and asked some questions and took some notes. A week later, the test results came back clean. Stephanie breathed a sigh of relief. No infections. No detangerpmi.
She was euphoric with relief. Then she saw them.
On the street outside her house, a young mother and her little girl were walking, smiling and laughing and perfect in their simplicity. The daughter’s ears were pristine. The mother’s were not, but their impurity was different from that of Stephanie’s. The mother’s ears were dirty for the sake of her child. She probably couldn’t afford the five extra minutes in the shower it took to thoroughly clean one’s ears because she was probably too busy making her daughter lunch or scaring away the monsters under her bed or getting her ready for kindergarten. She wasn’t like Stephanie or any of the other millions of people to not wash behind their ears because of mere laziness or rebellion or misinformation about the importance of ear cleanliness. No, there was purpose and sacrifice and love behind her dirty ears.
As Stephanie watched the laughing figures of the mother and daughter recede into the sunset horizon, her heart swelled with a forlornness that was one part self-pity, one part self-loathing. The dirt behind her ears would never be meaningful or beautiful like the mother’s. It would always be just dirt.
But, She wondered later that night as she got into bed. What if it won’t? What if the mother herself hadn’t always been so full of noble purpose? What if the mother had at one time experienced exactly what Stephanie was experiencing now? What if the mother had once been just a stupid, naïve kid like Stephanie who’d messed up and lost her ears’ cleanliness? If all that was so, then maybe the dirt behind Stephanie’s ears could also be full of purpose and promise one day. Maybe she didn’t have to spend her whole life wallowing in shame and despair over one minute of negligence. Maybe fighting to stay clean for as long as she did counted for something after all. Maybe admitting to herself that she’d made a mistake was enough. Finally, maybe her impure ears didn’t have to define her as an impure person. Maybe—just maybe—Stephanie was still Stephanie and would always be Stephanie with or without the speck of dirt behind her ears.

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Monday, January 9, 2012

   I am back.

Kind of happy, kind of sad. Didn't really want to come back to Maryland and start thinking about school and money and failure yet but I guess it's inevitable.

Blahhhh.

I'm tired. Will post a better post tomorrow.
ily
~Belinda
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Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Leaving for Ohio today. :)

I'm kinda nervous, but mostly excited. This will be my very first road trip with Josh.

I hope I like his sister. I hope his sister likes me. I hope my dog allergies don't kill me. Mostly, I hope Josh and I will be able to be together consecutively for a week and not want to kill each other.

I'll miss you all.
ily
~Belinda
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Monday, January 2, 2012

Hey, happy new year, everyone! :)

My parents are letting me go with Josh to Ohio for his birthday and we are leaving on the fourth. Not gonna be back til next Monday, so if I don't post again til then, that's why.

I did something really stupid on New Years Eve.

My moms friend, Ms. Mary, was over our house and she asked me if I'd seen Margaret. When I told her no, she asked me if I missed her. Again, I told her no, and she replied that apparently she misses me. According to what she says to my brother Charlie on facebook, she feels that she lost her best friend.

This got me all depressed and nostalgic and within about an hour I was in tears. So I sent her a message on facebook (I don't have her number in my phone anymore) telling her that I missed her too but I wasn't ready to come back to her and I wasn't sure I ever would be. Almost immediately after I sent that message, I regretted it. All the manipulative, self-righteous shit she said to me near the end of our friendship came flooding back into my brain and I remembered why we broke up in the first place: because she is not and never again will be the Margaret I fell in love with. Something in her has hardened and closed off--something vital and precious. Until that something thaws, there's no chance of resurrecting our marriage, and I know this sounds terribly harsh but unless she realizes that on her own, there's no way we can get back together.

She probably won't though. She's always been too stubborn and proud for her own good. When she's convinced she's right, everyone else is wrong, no matter what. :/ I'm not much better though.

ily
~Belinda
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Saturday, December 31, 2011

Feeling very happy and bouncy right now. Took my focalin, so I can actually (sort of) think straight for a change. I'm always really hyper whenever I first take it, for some reason. You'd think it would have the opposite effect because it's A.D.H.D. medication, but no. lol

Corn asked me to write something about potatoes, so I figured I'd try to oblige her.

TO PLAIN POTATOES:

Like obese old men at the beach,
No one wants to see you naked.
Mashed,
They slather you in butter, be-speckle you with salt and spice, bake you to delicious death in their ovens.
Chopped, they stick you in jacuzzi's of heated grease, keep you drowned until you come out crisp and crunchy.
No one ever thinks to take you, original and unadorned, from the ground, wash you off, and eat you raw.
No, you must always be altered, bettered, seasoned--have all your Mother's plain blandness pulverized, sauted, fried, drowned out of you.

But, clever and crafty little creature, you know they alter you at their own peril.
Every creamy, buttery bite they take, they give you the chance to fatten and clog them.
Every loud, crunchy pseudo French snack they have, they make you their murderer.
Vegetable vengeance is the perfect crime.

ily
~Belinda
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Thursday, December 29, 2011

6 in the morning. Felt like I should do something productive like work on my story, but as soon as I pulled up the document, my mind was blank and I didn't have the will to think of anything to put down. I can never write simply whenever I feel I simply should do it, I have to be in the right mood for it.

Besides, even when I do force myself to write, it usually doesn't come out very good. :/ It just doesn't flow.

How was everybody's Christmas?
Mine was pretty good. Got to see a lot of friends and family I don't get to see normally--well, family, anyway. I don't actually have any legit friends besides Josh and you guys and maybe one or two other people.

Didn't get a lot of gifts and I'd love to be really mature and say that it didn't bother me, but it kind of did. I put on some weight since last year so I needed some new clothes and I'd told my parents that, but apparently I didn't stress this enough because all I got was a pair of leggings, a knit top, and a gift card to Forever 21--which is nice. It's just a lot less than I need. :/ I don't know. I don't want to whine about shit that really doesn't matter, it's just I'm having to face some harsh realities right now. One of my worst fears is being confirmed--no one will take care of me. I'll have to take some stupid, dead end job I hate in order to support myself and there's a very good chance I will never get published or become a full-time writer like I've always wanted to. Honestly, I'm really daunted. Everything seems like it's all going to go to crap any minute and is never going to get better.

I just really, really, really need some good news, some sort of confirmation or assurance that all my dreams and my work will amount to something. No one can give me that though. I'm too young and it's too soon to tell. Too much of it depends on me and the decisions I make now and in the distant future.

I'm growing up. And I'm scared.

ily
~Belinda
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Wednesday, December 28, 2011

I need to get a job. '-__-

LE SIIIGH. There goes my evenings.

All anybody's hiring right now are management level positions that require two or more years working at entry level. Oh, the whole not being able to find work because I don't have enough work experience conundrum. '-_-

The world is a cruel, paradoxical place.

Gonna go bury myself in sims now.

ily
~Belinda
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Sunday, December 25, 2011

Merry Christmas, everyone! It's 5:11 in the morning. lol About to play sims. I'm reluctantly getting back into the habits of an addict. My characters just had a baby. His name is Alex Josiah Renquist. (High five to anyone who gets the reference.) Life's hectic as hell for them now that they have the baby, but it's pretty realistic. They have to sleep in 3 hour increments to make sure the baby eats, has a clean diaper, doesn't get lonely, etc., the mom(Ivanna) barely has time for anything anymore, the dad(Fenton) still has to go to work in the morning regardless of how little sleep he gets, and I'm still not sure Alex will grow into a healthy toddler. Yup. Sounds pretty life-like to me. :/

Hope everyone likes their presents. I got everyone except for Valerie a hat. lol XD
ily
~Belinda
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Thursday, December 22, 2011

Not much to report. I was feeling sick last night so I slept for 12 interrupted hours. First I woke up at 5:50 for some weird reason and was starving so I decided to go downstairs and snack upon something. My six-year-old sister Valerie was already up so we watched Veggie Tales together, then I grabbed some toast and went back to bed at around 6:20. My mom woke up me up again at around 7:00 to tell me something, then I passed out again and didn't wake up til noon. I feel much better. Still a bit stuffy, but some medicine should fix that.

Also my costume for the anime convention I'm going in February came in the mail a couple days ago. Probably post pictures later. All I need to do now is buy a long, blue wig. :/
ily
~Belinda
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Monday, December 19, 2011

Just got done crying my eyes out on the way home from Joshes house. We watched The Lovely Bones. It's a great movie, but completely heart-wrenching. I couldn't stop thinking about all the murdered and molested girls--all the pain they went through, all the life he deprived them of when he killed them... and you never even get to find out if the bodies were even found so the parents never even got to have closure or a proper burial.

It's so fucking sick. All child-molesters and child-killers should be castrated and continually raped with a gonorrhea-infested, two foot long, spiked dildo (i.e., a bludgeon dick.) The whole thing makes me so sick... especially because I have three little sisters, all of them yet to turn twelve. It is so dangerous to be a girl. I almost hope I never have a daughter lest she be subjected to all this evil. If I do, I'm insisting she take self-defense classes and when she's older--like, mid-twenties maybe--I might even buy her a gun. Even then, I'll probably worry about her half to death, but I guess that's a parents job. :/
ily
~Belinda
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