Moving to Xanga
Mood:  on fire
Now Playing: Xanga
Topic: Random
This blog will no longer be updated. I have moved to Xanga, which is *much* more user-friendly than Angelfire. You can now find me here. I'll still keep this place up, mainly for nostalgia. The only thing good about Angelfire is the free webspace. Hopefully all of my nonexistant readers will continue on with my Will to Xanga.

I guess I really do need you damn people, don't I?
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: Britney Spears' "In the Zone"
Topic: The Longing
Notice me, take my hand
What are we, strangers when
Our love is strong
Why carry on without me

Every time I try to fly, I fall
Without my wings, I feel so small
I guess I need you, baby
And every time I see you in my dreams
I see your face, it's haunting me
I guess I need you baby

I make believe that you are here
It's the only way I see clear
What have I done
You seem to move on easy

And every time I try to fly, I fall
Without my wings, I feel so small
I guess I need you, baby
And every time I see you in my dreams
I see your face, it's haunting me
I guess I need you baby

I may have made it rain
Please forgive me
My weakness caused you pain
And this song's my sorry
At night I pray
That soon your face will fade away

And every time I try to fly, I fall
Without my wings, I feel so small
I guess I need you, baby
And every time I see you in my dreams
I see your face, it's haunting me
I guess I need you baby

From "Everytime," one of the few decent songs by Britney Spears. But maybe I'm biased; my daddy wrote it.

I'm Giving This a Year
Mood:  not sure
Now Playing: No time to play anything today, sadly enough...
Topic: College Tirades
*sigh*

Yeah, that's about all I can say right now. I'm going to give this school a year -- if I don't like it by May, I'm transferring. I seriously think I might have made a very wrong decision. That was my feeling the first couple of days, too, but it seemed to wane as I hung out with Nan and Jenna. But now that I have classes, I'm realizing that these people, as a general rule of thumb, are fundamentally different from myself. They're all into being vegans and saving the planet, killing Bush, and having lots of casual sex. Granted, I have no problem with the vegan or vegetarian lifestyle, and I do think that our planet should be preserved, and I don't necessarily agree with Bush's foreign policy, and I don't think we need to run from sex like it's dirty and evil, but still. I thought I was liberal at CSCA, but I know for a fact that I'm definitely nothing more than moderate. And you know what? It's no single issue that irks me; in fact, it's not even all of them put together. What bothers me is this pervasive sense of intellectual snobbery I can't seem to ignore. I suppose an honors college full of such intelligent people is bound to suffer a bit of stuffiness, but this is absurd. The cafeteria is mostly vegan and vegetarian, unless you get the daily stir-fry or the daily burger. Everything else is sugarless, salt-less, and full of tofu. Even the burritos and enchiladas you buy from the freezer case are made from organic ingredients and contain no meat. Apparently, omnivores are in the strict minority here. And Republicans -- good lord, I think we have all of five who are willing to publicly admit it. It seems that the conservative type doesn't last long here; President Michalson said that 15% of students transfer out of NCF after their first year, and it has nothing to do with academics. The "lifestyle" just isn't for them (i.e., they had no friends because everyone thinks that "free-thinking" and "intellectual" are synonymous with "liberal").

It seems that I'm stuck in yet another environment pretending to be something I'm not, though it's not pretending, per se. I would never tell anyone I am a vegan or that I attend John Kerry rallies, because I don't. I would only let them assume, although I think people have already sensed where I stand on things, because no one approaches me. Of course, my father did say I wear a constant attitude of "don't f*ck with me," so it may just be that. But last night, two bikini-clad girls showed up at our door taking donations for the Sex and Candy Wall, a crazy party that is going to be held in Palm Court tomorrow night. They wanted my roommates and I to give them money because, "for every penny you give, some thesis student is allowed to get a little drunker." They went on and on about how trashed they all wanted to get, and they've been posting hardcore porn around the school for days. They wanted my money? What? Um, hell no. Excuse me children, but aren't you supposed to be bright, motivated students pursuing a top-notch education to better yourselves and prepare your intellects to face the challenges ahead in your future careers? Don't you have books to read and classes to study for? Hasn't anyone given you an essay to write? Are you doing a thesis? Why in the name of all that is good are you begging for money so you can get yourself wasted and viewing this as perfectly rational and acceptable behavior?

And no one tries to stop them. Isn't having a Sex and Candy party where clothing is optional somewhat illegal? Isn't posting pornography in a public place more of the same? I know sex and drugs permeate every college campus, but on this one, you're not considered a free-thinker or intellectual unless you're the typical hippie type; moderates and conservatives are all backwards-thinking peasants out of the Middle Ages. I think moderates are some of the most thoughtful people around because it is the moderate who says that life is a gray expanse that must be waded through with careful, deliberate contemplation. Answers in life shouldn't be predominately "left" or predominately "right" -- answers should be left, right, or middle, depending on the situation. THAT is what being a Thinker is all about; you can't call yourself a Thinker if you answer all proposed problems with one mode of thought. We've seen what can happen when a nation goes extremely conservative -- I don't think it will differ much damage-wise when it goes extremely liberal. When an extreme is championed, the problems of that extreme begin to show through because there is no alternative view to offset any imbalances. I think Kerry is pretty moderate, so I'm not necessarily speaking out against him -- my problem is with this idea that liberal is somehow Higher, Better, or Smarter.

Well, that was my angry NCF rant for the day. In other news, I still haven't got that book for my Medieval Europe class, though when I emailed Benes to explain my predicament, she emailed back to say I could borrow her book. After Genetics got out at 10:20, I made my way over to her office in E (which took me a while to find, by the way, because no one thought the hallways should be labeled). When I tapped on the already open door, she looked up briefly and greeted me with an extremely casual and familiar, "Hey Stef." I was kind of taken by surprise there. We didn't talk or anything. I said hi, she gave me the book and said she'd see me later, and I said, "Yeah, see you at 2:00." I tried speaking up in class today, though I definitely tried to put a literary spin on history, so I was kinda wrong. I was like, "Oh, existentialism! Man's search for meaning!" And she was like, "Uh, maybe, but..." *lol*

Anyway, I talked to my mom, my dad, my grandmother, Gabby, and Steph tonight. I was supposed to see a movie called Lorenzo's Oil at 7:30 for Genetics but as I was on my way there, two girls in my class rode by on their bikes and told me it was cancelled. I was ecstatic. That's when I spent so much time calling everyone that when I got a few minutes into Steph's call, the battery died. I managed to hook it up to a charger and get a signal going in my room, but it died again. Apparently the phone uses power faster than it can take it up. Damn color screens. Too bad, too -- I really did want to talk with Steph. I have all day off tomorrow, so hopefully I'll be able to talk to her then.

I still have so much to read! I have to read a chapter each in Genetics and Psych, plus review the previous chapter in Psych because we have a quiz Monday. I was hoping the professor would explain the electrical impulses of the nervous system today because I was absolutely *clueless* when I read it last night, but he got so wrapped up in discussing other things we didn't get to the nervous system at all! I still have that paper for Michalson and a short page-long essay for Genetics about what I'm hoping to learn in the class and what my background and interest are.

No classes tomorrow, so I'll have plenty of time to do academic things. Probably won't be able to sleep, though; damn parties.

Until some other time and place,
Annunziata DiSorbo

Walking Back in the Rain is Amazing
Mood:  special
Now Playing: Those awesome frozen enchiladas from the cafeteria -- mmm!
Topic: College Tirades
The following was written while in class earlier today:

It's about 5 minutes before 2:00 and we're on our ten minute break. I went outside for a bit with everyone else, but no one was talking to me, so I figured I'd come back in the room and sit where it's cool. One other person is in here. I think I'm going to like this class, Modern Christian Theology. All of the doctrinal and biblical information Michalson presented was old news to someone who's spent an hour a day, five days a week in Bible class for the past 15 years. I like knowing things before others, *lol*. This is one of the first times at NCF I've had that opportunity, though I did feel decently knowledgeable in Medieval Europe. The guy next to me has a father who's a Presbyterian minister. We should talk, though he's addressing a visitor right now, so I don't want to interrupt.

I only had ten minutes in which to compose the above elegance, so for some updates: yes, I did speak to the guy who's father was a minister, albeit briefly. I told him that I attended a small Presbyterian school for 15 years, so I understood what he meant when he spoke about "not getting the whole picture." He smiled and nodded, and asked me what church it was. I told him First Presbyterian in the Coral Springs/Ft. Lauderdale area. That was all of that. Then Michalson started getting into Descartes and Locke, but the way he taught Descartes was very confusing. If he would have started out by saying, "Descartes was a rationalist," I think things might have gone a bit better. But I did learn about human subjectivity, the idea of thinking about thinking, a kind of "reflexivity." The whole subject/object thing was a little shaky, but I think I understood it to mean this: the "subject" is the person who is doing the thought, and the "object" is what is being thought about. Hence, the reflexivity comes in when the subject and the object are the same, as you are "thinking about thinking." He ended class by assigning us the reading of Hume's Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion. It's only 125 pages, and a lot of that seems like it might be bibliographical. The class was divided into two groups, and every week (starting next week), one group has to write and present a 2-5 page analytical paper. I'm in the first group, so by next Wednesday, I need an analytical paper about some topic found in Hume's book. Michalson also handed out a sheet containing the guidelines for writing an analytical paper, and I *think* I understand what he's trying to say. It's basically pulling a few quotes out of the text and saying, "This is what he's saying, and I think it's right or wrong or somewhere in between based on this, this, and this." There's more to it than that, of course, but boiled down to the basics, it seems to be what Peters has been drilling into me for years.

That said, I still have more to do tonight for my classes tomorrow. I need to read the last half of chapter 2 in my genetics book because I have the class at 9:00 tomorrow morning, and I need to read chapter two for psychology as well, though that class isn't until 12:30. I *may* have to read a bit for Medieval Europe, but I don't have the book as of yet, even though I looked for it both yesterday and today. I just emailed Professor Benes to see what she thinks Nan and I should do. (Nan's in that class with me, by the way.)

I think I'll be heading off to find some dinner soon, and after than I'll try to at least finish up genetics. The psych can probably be read before class tomorrow if need be, though I don't think I want to make a habit of doing that.

Oh, and last night I had a dream that someone I love wrote me a very honest, but rather nasty letter. More frustrated than nasty, really. Oddly enough, it didn't upset me as much as I would have thought it would. Maybe that's good. Or maybe it's not. I don't want to lose my feelings for the people I've left behind, but I suppose that's the natural order of things, isn't it?

And on a random tangent, Nan and I had noticed a funky odor coming from some nebulous corner of the room. Neither of us said anything, thinking it was perhaps some fault of our own. This morning, I discovered the cause of the foul smell: the milk Jenna had brought in a cooler a week and a half ago was still sitting in there, rancid as all hell. I saw the cooler sitting there near the foot of my bed, but I never would have thought it contained anything. Thankfully, the smell has since dissipated.

Well, Steph's online. Think I'll go talk to her for a while until dinner. Until later, then.

Towing the Line and Doing Fine
Mood:  a-ok
Now Playing: EarthBound Zero, JonBound, and Seiken Densetsu 3
Topic: College Tirades
It’s my ninth official day at New College of Florida and I already know that this is going to be an incredible undergraduate experience. The only thing I am mildly concerned with at this point is making friends. My awesome roommates, Nan and Jenna, and I aren’t naturally very social, so we tend to hang around in our room while other people are out doing the party scene. We’re already pretty close, and I’ll probably be able to survive the year with just them alone. But still, I would like a few more contacts. It seems that most of the other students have already got themselves a large circle of friends, though large groups are often very superficial.

So today was the first day of classes. I had Introductory Psychology and Medieval Europe. Psych was pretty interesting, though the professor didn’t speak loudly enough for me to catch some of his technical terms. (He reminds me of the Skipper on Gilligan’s island, by the way.) Nan, Jenna, and I are all in that class, so we’re going to attempt to arrive earlier Thursday to get seats closer towards the front of the room. There are probably 60 or 70 people in that class, so it isn’t very intimate. My Medieval Europe teacher is amazing! Apparently, she just got her doctorate in June and we’re her very first class at New College – or maybe anywhere. Her manner reminds me a bit of Shoemaker, which is good. She even owns a pair of shoes I’ve seen Peters wear. I can already tell that she loves to laugh and joke and have a good time; someone’s cell phone rang today and she answered it. I think it was the guy’s girlfriend calling, because my professor’s eyes went wide and she said, “This is his professor,” as if the girl on the other end had demanded to know who the hell the woman answering her boyfriend’s cell phone was. It was hilarious! I can tell I’m going to like her class. Sadly, it’s larger than I would like it to be; I think we have about 30 students. However, she said if the class was over 25, she’d split our Thursday class into two time slots for smaller discussion groups, which is great, because I’d like to get to know her more personally. That might not happen, though, as she is extremely outgoing, and I am … not.

Anyway, I’m here in my dorm with Nan and Jenna, wasting the hours away playing videogames and checking email. Jenna is using RPGMaker to create her own game, and Nan is watching music videos online. They are the perfect roommates for someone like me – they both like videogames (Nan has been playing through Final Fantasy X all week) and we all have similar morals and values. In other news, I’m getting over my homesickness. I no longer feel depressed at the thought of my home or my parents, and I’m even beginning to get over certain other things, too. Evening thinking about that little Italian fiend (*lol*, God knows I love her) doesn’t bother me too much. In fact, it might not bother me at all. At this point, the only reason I want to go home is to say “Hey, look what I can do – I can exist outside of everything.” I hear Cecilia has a class of three, with two actual students and one audit. I’d still sign my soul over to Satan for a chance to be in that class, but alas, I will never, ever get that opportunity. Steph says she’s very happy, which (and I know this sounds horrible) is kind of disappointing. I thought she’d miss our class a lot, but Angela called her over break and said, “Hey, I’m here with Dusty,” and she goes, “Dusty? Dusty who?” Oh, what the hell. It’s not like it matters anymore, does it? Whatever. I love her anyway, and I guess when I think about it, I’m glad she’s happy. I want her to be happy, even if it means I have to be 200 miles away.

But sometimes, in the middle of the night, when the music is loud in Palm Court outside my window, I want to talk to Shoemaker about God. Why? For the first three days or so of school, I felt much closer to Him than I ever have. I guess people really do reach out to Heaven in times of anguish. But now it’s gone. No one seems to understand God here. I almost miss Bible class. Maybe I should call Shoemaker. No – what am I saying? Blow the whole thing over the phone in one moment of weakness? Never. I will not leave the people I love with bad tastes in their mouths.

So that’s about it. I can’t think of much else to say, though there will definitely be more in the coming days and weeks. I go home on September 23rd for Homecoming. That should be fun. And Steph is eventually going to come visit! Yay! :D

Oh. I’m not taking any literature classes this semester. I feel wrong, somehow. Am I doing the right thing? I must confess, I do not know.

The Antisocial Nobody of New College,
Evil Pensive Orphan Child

"And all I can do is just pour some tea for two..." -- Blind Melon
Mood:  happy
Topic: College Tirades
I leave for New College of Florida in less than three days. It was only during this past week or so that I’ve grown excited – before, I was just terrified. Now it’s a healthy mix of both, I think. My mother and I went to Wal-Mart today and bought about $200 of stuff for my dorm. I told her she was buying way too much, that we would probably have multiples of certain items because my other two roommates, Nan and Jenna, would bring them too. Of course, my suggestion to wait until we actually set up the place on Saturday in the presence of Nan and Jenna to buy those items was wrong and thoughtless and irritating. Tomorrow I have to pack.

Monday was my last night with Steph; she left early Tuesday to go on a college tour. Tuesday, yesterday, was my last night with Angela and her friend Mia (who came down with her during break), as they’re both leaving tomorrow for a trip to Orlando. Gabby and I are going to do dinner tomorrow, and sometime before Saturday morning, I need to see Tara and Stevie. Stevie and I were considering going to Meet Your Teacher Day at CSCA to say goodbye to all the faculty and staff we know and love, but actually I feel rather odd about doing that. I’m still debating as to whether or not I should call certain faculty members and say goodbye. One of them has been studiously ignoring me all summer long. I’ve been cancelled twice for visits, I sent a letter (in which I poured out my little heart and soul, mind) that was never acknowledged, and I sent a postcard that also never received a reply. I’ve also attempted a few other little “Hi, remember me?” schemes, but nary a response. So do I actually want to call? Hmm.

Yeah, I really took extended leave with this blog. I haven’t really updated it since I deleted its previous incarnation, The Will of One. I felt a new chapter in my life had come, and creating The Continued Will of One was a fitting way to herald in this new era. Below you can find diary entries I wrote while on vacation in Tennessee. I only wrote four, and all of them occur within the first three days of the trip. Maybe I’ll write more about what went on later. Suffice to say that I was thrilled to be home, as usual.

I got a letter from New College today that contained the name of my new academic advisor. He’s a professor of philosophy. *grin* Seems that they know me already. I got an email from Jenna for the first time a few days ago, and she told me her interests were reading, writing, drawing, thinking, and videogames. Subtract the drawing part and you have me! And Nan seems like a very nice, easy-going person. I think we’ll all get along just fine.

That’s about all I can think of to say at the moment. Oh, wait: Stevie and I spent six hours at Shoemaker’s house one night a couple of weeks ago. That was interesting – interesting and wonderful. Perhaps I should recall some the evening?

Your college-bound darling,
Waif3r Minerva

The Initial Crappy Vacation Feelings Have Ceased
Mood:  not sure
Topic: Random
It's dull and I'm bored. It's done nothing but rain since we got here last night, limiting our activities to Wal-Mart shopping and a movie. The movie will be the highlight of this trip: of that much, I'm sure. My mother and sister saw the Cinderella rip-off done by that Hillary Duff girl, and my stepfather saw The Bourne Supremacy. I made my way to theater 5 to see I, Robot. It's the first movie I've actually anticipated in what seems like forever. I love technology, and questions of technological ethics have always intrigued me. The movie wasn't just one of those "technology will end up killing us all" horror stories to make people afraid of checking their email for feat that the evil 666 Computer Chip Beast is right around the corner. One of the central themes in the film was the definition of "life." I don't want to ruin the plot twists for anyone, but questions arise as to whether or not certain alterations of the ultra-refined NS-5 robots can be considered living things rather than machines. They made an awfully good case for the idea, which I would very much like to express but am currently unable to due to a fragmented mind. My parents are watching Legally Blonde 2 about ten feet away from me and I'm having a difficult time concentrating.

In other news, Steph's meeting with Robertson concerning her schedule was disastrous. Robertson said that it might be in "God's Plan" for CSCA to be a top remedial school instead of catering to the intelligentsia, meaning that he didn’t feel the need to amend her schedule so that she could take various online AP classes. Let’s pin it on God, right? He’s always available as an excuse as to why people act like idiots. Sorry, but aren’t we supposed to be nice to the smart kids? You know they’re going to rule the world one day, and when they do it’s curtains for idiots. Steph was denied on every front, and it was sickening. Robertson spoke for two hours of their two and a half hour chat, hardly letting Steph speak say anything at all. Turns out he really is a small-minded, pompous ass just like we initially thought! For a minute, it was looking like we'd been wrong, but nope. Too bad. Tangent: Shoemaker said that she might want to be Headmistress one day. Here’s hoping that happens, because CSCA needs a great mind to take it to great heights.

I rented Prince of Persia from the local Wal-Mart rental place and got it back to the cabin only to find that it didn't work. The analog light wouldn't come on, and it was as if the directional buttons were continually pressed down even though I wasn't touching them. I had a hard enough time starting the game, but I couldn't get into the first room because I could only run in the direction of an outside wall.

Oh. And in the car, on the way back from the movie: "Was the movie any good, Stefanie?" I said it was. I mentioned something about how I loved the concept of redefining what is alive, and my mother and stepfather shared an amused look and laughed at me. "Oh Stefanie," my mother said through a chuckle, "I think those things are pretty much black and white." And what do you say to that? Call them ignorant fools? No. *sigh*

That's all for tonight. Until tomorrow.

I Only Lick My Wounds When I'm Lonely: A Letter to Somebody's Mother
Mood:  sad
Topic: Mommy Issues
Dear Mother,

Why do you run from me? Why do you turn from the love I try so desperately to offer? Are you angry with me, Mother? Have I gotten too close, smothered you, and made it hard to breathe? My apologies, Mother; I cannot help myself. I am starving to death, alone in my cold, dark ally, and I know you carry bread. You used to see that I was well-fed and never lacking. But little by little, you took your loaves away from me. I am still hungry, Mother. Please, come and feed me, warm me.

Are you afraid, Mother? Are you afraid that I love you for your wine and diamonds instead of your bread? They cannot fill an empty stomach. Wine and diamonds cannot caress a soul, Mother. I am like the others in that I come to take, for I seek nourishment for my failing heart. But I am unlike them in that I wish to give as much or more than I take. I have no wine or diamonds to offer you, Mother, but I have a bread all my own. I cannot eat it, but perhaps it will nourish you.

Do you love me, Mother? You are not required to do so. It would be a sin for me to ask for such a thing. But if you love me, cease your flight. Tuck me in at night; pull the covers over me and mark me with a kiss. Turn out the lights, and I will dream of stars.

Love infinitely,
Your Child

Wine and Diamonds
Mood:  blue
Topic: Mommy Issues

---

"She's back, you know. She was asking about you. She wanted to know if I'd seen you."
"She asked about ... me?"
"I told her you got a five. She was very happy."
"Oh."
"Stefanie..."
*silence*
"She truly has no idea how much she hurt you."
"...It was my fault, a lot of it."
"Your fault?"
"I had no right to ask for so much. No one has a right to ask for that much."
"True. But you have a right to be treated with dignity, and she didn't give you that."
*silence*
"You have to accept her for who she is, not for who you want her to be."
"Yeah. But she knew. We talked about it, under-the-table."
"Did you?"
"I didn't want the confrontation any more than she did. It was very general, but she knew."
"Oh."
*silence*

---

Fear is a natural and necessary part of life. Fear is what keeps the human race alive, what keeps us from leaping off mountains and hoping to fly. But this same protective force also robs us of innumerable joys, for one day, when man leapt off mountains, he flew. You cannot be struck down by a car while barricaded in your cellar, nor can you meet your one true love at the coffee shop down the street. Being alive is a risk, Mother. Will you take it?

Your blessing is your curse. You are royalty, a Queen of the New World, and power nestles itself in the palm of your hand. You are never without a crowd of admirers; they call out to you night and day, praising the dust your glass slippers leave behind. "How lovely you are, how grand and majestic! Come, let us sup with you, dance with you, and soar with you." Yes, Mother. Tip your cup and let the wine flow over them. But it is the wine they love, Mother. Not you.

I never desired your wine. I desired your bread. I was starving, dying, and you fed me. I loved the one who snatched me from Death. I loved you, Mother. But was it you who fed me, or was it the mask you wore? Whether your mask is not a mask, or whether you are formed of stone and frost, my mind still keeps memory of the bread that satisfied a hunger I thought to be insatiable. Your admirers have put a fear in you, Mother. A fear of love. A fear of intentions. You are, as Queen, undeniably tied to the royal chalice, and are subject to a life of wine and diamonds, subject to a life of insecurity and loneliness. You are not a fool, Mother. You know them for what they are, but you smile at them. It is your lot.

Mother ... I want no wine, and no diamonds. I even will not ask for bread. I am content with you. Remove your mask, if indeed you wear one. Let the fires of a loving heart melt the frost, and let the force of a concerned embrace crack the stone.

Fear me not, Mother. I come not to take, but to give.

The Wound That Will Not Heal
Mood:  blue
Topic: Mommy Issues
It is quarter after seven in the evening, and I am laying in front of my sister's laptop at my grandmother's Ocala house, waiting for tomorrow to come so we can continue the journey to our final destination: Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. Vacation with my family always makes me feel sad and alone. All I can think of is this dream...

---

I sit on the couch, kicking my legs, feeling alive and full of power. She sits across from me, watching. "I've missed you," I say to her. "I think I'm going through CSCA withdrawal." Her lips smile, and begin to form the words I am expecting.

"You'll meet so many wonderful people at college. You won't want to come home."

I nod to humor her. "I know." Then I pause. "But that doesn't mean I can't miss you." Again, she smiles.

We sit in silence for a long minute. I watch her like a hawk, trying to breach her and make her flail, hoping for a crack in her mighty wall. She returns my stare; she was always very good with them. But I won't stop. My eyes scream at her, and she finally withdraws her own.

"You looked away first," I say innocently. Her face points downward, but her dagger eyes rise up. "I'm great at looking people in the eye, now," I continue. "You taught me that."

She props her chin on her fist and considers me. I can tell she is off-balance. "Yes. Yes, very good."

More silence. This time, we both watch the floor.

"So." She seems to address the open window. She sighs long and deeply. "My Stef," she says. "Oh, Stef." She turns her eyes toward me.

I look up from the floor, and our gazes lock.

"Are you still my Stef?" She moves her eyes for a fraction of a second. "Or did I ruin that?"

Finally, after so many months, a crossroad. "I don't know; that's really up to you."

Again, her eyes dart. Her voice is so small. "I don't know what you see in me. Of all the people you could have chosen ... I'm a terrible mother, Stefanie."

I shake my head and try to comfort her with kind eyes. "I didn't choose you because I thought you would nurture my feelings." I give her a soft smile. "But you nurtured a side of me that other people thought was a problem in need of fixing."

She sits, still chin-in-hand, concentrating busily on the sofa's armrest instead of me. "I failed you. I'm sorry."

I go to her, and sit at her feet. "Look at me," I command gently. She looks. "Am I a failure?"

Her eyes close, and I know my plan of attack is effective. "No. No, you aren't a failure. You have grown so much; it has been a pleasure to watch you."

"Are you proud of me?" I suddenly think of what I've just said, and quickly decide to rephrase it. "Overall, I mean."

She caresses me with a mother's smile of pleasure. "Of course I'm proud of you. You're brilliant."

"You're responsible for most of it," I declare matter-of-factly.

More minutes of silence ensue. She looks out of the window, and I look at her. She begins again without meeting my eyes. "I'm sorry about Europe."

Now this, I am not expecting. "Oh. Europe."

Neither of us knows how to continue, but I try. "I'm sorry, too. I had no right to demand so much of you emotionally. I know it's difficult for you."

Her eyes flicker toward me uncertainly while she speaks. "I handled the situation very badly. Sarah says I really hurt you."

Now, I am speechless.

"I'm glad she was there to help you," she continues almost mildly, seeing that she has managed to surprise me. "You said it yourself: I'm not very good with those things."

I rise and look down at her small frame, still seated. I make myself sound flippant. "I understand. I won't expect things like that from you anymore."

Pain flashes across her face, and my soul leaps. I hit a nerve. There is a nerve to hit. "So," she whispers, "I've driven you away, haven't I?"

I take my place beside her and encircle her in my arms. "I won't be driven off unless you want it that way," I say as kindly as I am able. "Because above all, I want you to be comfortable. I won't force you into anything."

She puts her arms around me, too. "Oh Stef," she murmurs over my shoulder. "It's just the way I am."

"It's your lot," I say. "You fear the intentions of others. They want your wine and diamonds, don't they? They break your heart." I awkwardly try to rub her back, as it seems a soothing thing to do. "I never want to break your heart."

"Wine and diamonds," she whispers. "You are my Stef, then?"

"I am."

There is a grin on her lips. I continue to stroke her back, attempting to be the security blanket she is to me. She tightens her hold on me, and we revel in the silence. But inside, I sing.

---

The Wound That Will Not Heal. *sigh* What to do? God only knows. Maybe college will set my mind on other things. That I still cannot get over THIS irritates me to no end.