about
Stephanie Victoria.
18. Studying Journalism and French.
Love gypsy music and pubs and knowing I'm busy without being able to pinpoint why.
Je suis fatiguée
Thursday, December 16, 2010, 6:13 PM
Even in French, it sounds sad.
I'm exhausted. And up until ten minutes, I was composed. I was okay. And then? I couldn't stop the tears. Why has everything, all of a sudden, decided to complicate itself? School used to be the one thing that I could manage. I'm shit at sports and art, and on bad days, my piano goes untouched, but academia? It always somehow made sense. Now, I dread going to class for anything other than superficial reasons. I want to curl up with a copy of Vanity Fair and a mug of Chamomile tea and just be, without the constant nagging figure cozied up in the back of my mind repeating the mantra of, "Hey, aren't you forgetting something?"
So, then, why?
Why do I do this to myself? Because, frankly, I take complete responsibility for how I feel tonight. No one forced me to be the way I am.
I do it because apparently, it's supposed to pay off.
Full Disclosure
Monday, April 5, 2010, 10:18 PM
It's dangerous even to preface this spectacular bout of word vomit. Here goes:
I'm sick of feeling like the best friend in my own life. I don't feel like I get anything, not the boy, the travel, the camera, the grades, the anything. I don't get anything but to watch as every single fucking person around gets showered every single fucking day with anything and everything they want. The worst part is that I don't know what to do about it. I'm not good enough at writing to get published (nor would I have the time or drive to be successful even if I were all that great), I'm not a good enough photographer to sell my work, I can't get a job, I can't lose weight, I can't make myself feel good in an outfit any more. Because no matter what, I'll still get shown up by infinitely prettier, thinner, shallower girls who are bubbly and fun to be with. I get that that's what people want. They want fun and exciting. But I can't get anyone to cut me any slack in any part of my life. School's taking over, so I keep on forgetting to do little things that are just as important. And other things I'm just too tired to do. I work my ass off in a theatre program where I can't get a fucking role to save my life, no matter how much talent I have, because I'm too tall, too big, too brown. That seems to be the real problem here. I'm too amazonian not to be intimidating. No one can picture me as anything but the smart girl, and even then, not so much, because now I'm stuck in a room full of smart people every day and I'm not really comparing all that well. I hate math and science, and I'm getting shown up desperately in the subjects I do actually like. And to top it all off, I want all these material things I could never have. I am fully aware of how hysterical and greedy I sounds, but I'm tired of hearing about how we can't afford this or that. No prom dress, no trip to Italy, no camera, no birthday or christmas presents, no nothing. These things that people get without blinking, and flaunt all over the place, and I can't have a single thing. There are some people, like my best friend, who are terrible about this. They get whatever they want, from the travel to the boys to the fans to the stuff, and their biggest problems are their grades...which are shit because they don't bother doing their homework, no matter how many tutors their parents line up for them. But they'll probably end up graduating and being successful anyway because the sad truth of the matter is that its not about working hard. That gets you close to nowhere. It's about whoring yourself out and looking pretty. It's about being trashy enough to get whatever you want, whenever you want, however you want it. How's that for a reality check? And no matter how down in the dumps you are, there won't be anyone to pick you up, because even your closest friends don't want to hear you hashing out the details of your piss poor love life one more time, hoping that stupid shit that lost you friends might make more sense this time around. They don't want to hear about how you and your best friend don't really talk outside of maybe lunch, because he's started ignoring you and your texts in favor of more interesting things and people. And why should they, when you've been a horrible friend anyway while you've been playing your own game of climb the social ladder. You can't seem to do both, be a good friend to everyone, and be well-liked. There's a certain sense of underlying cruelty that seems to have to accompany those who get whatever they want. That's why the good die young. They got screwed over by everyone else. Because this happens all the time, and your griping won't make any difference. They don't want to hear about school, or your grades, or college, or the only other things you can ever possibly think of to talk about anymore...things that only your classmates might be interested in, except they're not, in favor of sucking up to the "cool" geeks and the teachers. And the longer this school year drags on, the more often you think you just might understand why Meursault believed that after you die, you disappear, because no one will remember you. And then, when your throat starts to constrict with fear, you understand. You understand that unless you figure out how to make people want to be with you, around you, each day, you won't ever overcome that. And one day, everyone will die.
Elephant Gun.
Thursday, November 5, 2009, 7:15 PM
This has been one of those weeks. Everything that could possibly have gone wrong, did. It's dampened all of the good things that have happened. I began rehearsals for a show I'm in love with, I was invited into NHS, I became addicted to an amazing CD, I've become closer with some really cool people, and I've been shocked again and again by one especially awesome person.
Hence, I've come to a couple of really important conclusions. One, and you're going to love the creativity here, people never change. Or rather, people will never change for you. It doesn't matter if you spell out your wishes for them. It hurts.
Two, dancing makes me happy. I should never have stopped. I should never have done a lot of things, really. But I don't intend to never put another pair of dance shoes on, that's for sure.
Three, those magical strangers that show up in stories and save the day? In English class, they're called deus ex machina. In real life? They're angels, and they're a lot more likely to help than those you count on every day.
Four, I'm experiencing something new. I'm getting on stage each afternoon and hurting, for my character, and maybe a little bit for myself. You'd be surprised how much of yourself you can find in works of art. The character's name is Hope. She can't stay in the town she's grown up in, so rather than marrying the man she's in love with, she runs, only to return years too late. I know that I'm as ready as she was to leave this town, but walking off stage after each run through, I know she's made a mistake and I can't help thinking I might be too.
On that note, I think there are some people whose souls and bodies are born in two different places. I know a few of those.
Anyway, things are weird. So many things are happening, all in the extremes. Very good and very bad. It's only confusing me, quieting my excitement and distorting my tears. The good thing is that when one person won't listen, there are a thousand others who care so, so much. That should undermine the slightly bitter tone here.
Also, I thought I should share the story of something that I can't forget because it came at one of those times when you're completely down and think nothing will make a difference:
I was in bed one night about to check out after one of those days that just makes you think wayy too much when I thought I'd change my Facebook status to closer match my mood (without actually saying I felt like driving off a cliff; that's too intense for such [fake] happy people in Cave Creek). I changed my status to Stephanie is. I never intended for anyone to complete that sentence. But someone did. With a succinct 'pretty cool'. This someone has also created some amazing posters and things for this show that I'm in right now, and he always makes sure to send them to me. This means a lot. A lot.
So, we're starting a band.
Love.
S.
Monday, September 14, 2009, 5:20 PM
I miss my best friend.
Even when we're in the same room, we're a million miles apart.
It wasn't always like this.
Monday, September 7, 2009, 10:38 AM
I've had some amazing conversations lately. It seems as though everyone's dying for someone to talk to, to vent with, who gets it. The strange this is....everyone seems to get it now. And in this world of everyone magically understanding what everyone else is going through? You still have a hundred lonely people sealed up in their own little lonely worlds. Sure, getting together, having fun, pouring your heart out, it's all a lovely little distraction, but, sometimes it's not enough because at the end of the day, you've still gotta go home alone, stare at your bedroom wall, and decide whether or not you actually love yourself.
I think I honestly am starting to get there again.
S.
1:14
Wednesday, August 26, 2009, 4:14 PM
I had my first Intro to Music Theory class last night at the local community college. On the way there, I missed the turn-off into the parking lot and ended up making a U-turn in a neighborhood off of 32nd St that was being swarmed with police. It made me kind of nervous. And then, to top it all off, I got there too early, parked to far, and found that to get to my car, I had to way through a dark alleyway between the gym and the life sciences building. It was...exciting.
The class has a whopping 15 people in it. One football-player-turned-dancer, one American Idol third-round contestant, and a loony teacher. Plus, a semi-cute guy wearing lumberjack plaid. Female to Male ratio? 1:14.
Love.
S.
P.S. My homework is kind of a joke. Seriously. I like college better than high school already.
Climb the Mountain.
Sunday, August 16, 2009, 10:16 PM
We've been having a really hard time lately with the whole Have-to-get-back-to-Europe Syndrome. Relation/friendships are getting stressful, homework is piling up (already), and I'm about ready to pull my hair out. We had this surprise party to go to last night that drove everyone up a wall.
I don't even know if it was worth it.
So we're planning something. I don't even know exactly what, except that it's going to be filled with music and art and dance and people and its going to maybe make a difference for even just one person.
It's going to be killer.