Under The Sun Every Day Just Comes & Goes discussion

This is my topic. Yes I have two in this folder. So sue me.

This is basically where people tell me stories and I am entertained by them. Maybe I'll ask questions to people too. But we'll start with stories.

Who would like to begin?

Rules(They're actually more like guidelines that if you break I will cut you.)

1. This is story time, if you didn't notice already. You can tell me any story you'd like. If I ask you for a story, and you don't want to tell me, simply don't tell me. I won't force you.

2. I don't care if we converse but try not to spam too much. If I start getting any 'so how was your day?' or random crap like that, that's not okay. Move that to other topics.

3. Sure, you can debate, but you can't fight. Got it? If there's any malice, stop talking about it.

4. Your stories can be as short or as detailed as you'd like it to. I don't care. Usually I'll want real stories but sometimes I'll have people make something up. Put some effort into your stories! You're welcome to come and tell me anything. Don't feel like I should ask you first. Rant. Make up a story. Tell me about your day. Whatever. Just as long as they're stories!

5. I don't want a lot of swearing/profanity. Of course you can have the occasional swear word, but I don't want to know about all the times you had sex. That's just nasty, man.

6. This is story time with Falls. I don't tell you stories. You tell me stories.

7. If you start a story, you better be prepared to finish it. To every detail I ask. If you tell me said story and I ask questions about it, you better answer. Or else I'll... Do something bad!

I'll add more later if I think of anything.

*raises hand*

I can dig up a story tomorrow.

Waterfall *Daughter of Northridge Earthquake* wrote: "I'll move this to the right folder when I get a chance. My phone doesn't let me."

I took care of it.

Thank you Harley!

Timmy it's tomorrow. I shall be patiently waiting. (:

What would you like a story of?

Bahaha Ira you would!

Timmy, I would like the happiest true story of your life that you can think of.

Working on it right now. :)

Yes!

Sorry...got distracted. :D Here it is.

Oh man...that's tough. So many happy stories.

Once upon a time, there was a guy named Taylor. He'd been blessed with everything imaginable -- a family, living in an affluent community, a talent for learning, and a rather cushioned life.

To put it simply, that all started to change for me in small ways. I was once a very diligent person who was true to his word -- that became much more difficult after an asthma medication caused me to spiral into a bed-ridden depression. From there, it became harder to trust in my family, my friends, my teachers, and even my God to help me get out of these habits. To compound the struggle, I began to have many setbacks in life. A lot of doors that I fought to keep open were shut by my own decisions as well as the choices of others.

Come December, I had a hard time even getting on my knees to ask for strength and help. I truly believed that God had left me to suffer. I believed there was a purpose, but I didn't know it, and so I gave up on Him.

Now, you've heard me mention a young lady named Savannah. She's a fantastic writer and pianist, and is there for me in those times when Hazel cannot be. As my self-appointed secretary, she manages my schedule and reminds me that every day is a good day because it is a gift from God.

She was totally unaware of this when, on December 13, she and I walked into the computer lab during Journalism and she dropped a stack of envelopes on my desk. She explained that it was an early Christmas present and I needed to open the first envelope right then and there.

Inside was a letter where she told me that she wanted me to be happy and trust in the Lord and this gift was designed to do it. It was a "Twelve Days of Christmas" activity. Each day, I would open an envelope and complete the task outlined in each letter.

I sat back in my chair and tried not to cry. After all, Savannah is the last person who needs to see me cry, right? For the first time in months, I allowed God's love to wash over me in the form of Savannah's compassion.

The next two weeks were magical as I completed each simple task. Think of something that make you happy, hug all your family members, go take a look at you Christmas tree, throw a snowball...each was so simple, but quite literally the highlight of my day.

I noticed that, as I progressed through this series of envelopes, I was gradually getting happier. I was able to come to grips with some struggles I've had for a decade, learn to love my family again, and turn to Christ when I needed help.

Now, life was still tough. Hazel and I fought, my parents said some hurtful things, I almost had many plans torn apart by a potential move to England for three months. But while I could feel the weight of my burden, I could also feel my Father in Heaven helping share the burden. We became close again.

On Christmas Day, I awoke with the rest of the family. But, unlike my younger siblings, my mind was not on the presents I would receive. It was on the final letter I would be opening that day. And to be honest, I was sad. Those two weeks had been the best time of my life in months. I didn't want it to end.

Inside was the following:

"Merry Christmas!!!!!

"I really don't have a lot to give, and obviously I'm way too cheap to actually buy anything. But I hope this meant at least a little something.

"I'm pretty sure your personal secretary is really bossy. She keeps telling you what to do.

"I have two requests.

"1. Have a great day.
"2. Keep going.

"You're the best!
Savannah"

I don't think I've had a bad day since.

Was that this past year?

Yes it was.

Well that's fantastic!

Now tell me about Savannah. I haven't heard about her yet.

Okay, then I gotta go to bed, 'cause I have seminary tomorrow, so I'm getting up at 5 (four hours earlier than I have been for the last two weeks :#D).

It's actually easier to talk about Savannah because I haven't known her as long.

Savannah is my partner in crime when it comes to writing and piano. We've been friends for almost a year now. She's my secretary of sorts, helping me manage my schedule and to-do list as I struggle with depression and senioritis.

I'm not entirely sure when we met. I remember her coming to a couple writing group meetings. The first distinct time I remember seeing her is when she came to a meeting and I showed off my creative writing blogs. It was kinda awkward because I could tell she wasn't super interested at the time.

Well, I tried to take our group to a three-day writing conference last February, and she was the only one who came all three days with me. In fact, only one other person ended up coming, and even then, it was for a single day. So Savannah and I had a lot of time to hang out and get to know each other. She told me things during those three days that I would later find out were not shared with many other people. She was remarkably open, and it was awesome, because Hazel is the only other person who had been that way up to that point.

During the next three months, she and I got to know each other better as she helped me strengthen the dynamic of the writing group. When I decided to make a planning committee for the group's activities for this school year, she was at the top of my list. She has a sharp mind in writing and organization, and we were able to create a group that I can say is one of my greatest accomplishments.

In May, I noticed that I had developed feelings for her. Around this time, I was denying having a crush on Hazel, as I had identified as asexual for the last two years. And, because I see Savannah more, I simply felt more strongly attracted to her. This blew up in my face when, on a dare, I told her that I thought her eyes looked pretty in a somewhat cryptic way at the end of an email about the group. She was angry about that for some reason (to this day I still don't know what). I kinda went out of control and explained how I liked her and that was kinda this big deal because I was supposed to be asexual. She then shut me out for the last couple weeks of school.

Yet we still had planning meetings with the other committee members, so we had to see each other. Following our first summer meeting, we stuck around after the meeting and chatted about my feelings and some of the struggles that made those feelings a little shocking. That day, I was able to overcome some really nasty things that had weighed on me for almost five years. In addition, I believe I was able to give her some strength; we spent some time talking about some of her troubles in high school, and we talked about the atonement and how we can all be happy if we turn to Christ.

Our friendship was strengthened, though we still had our struggles. Savannah met Hazel and didn't like her from day one. We spent some time trying to help her understand that Hazel is that one person I've needed to keep me ticking every day. Now they're strained friends. It's a little like holding a motion-sensitive bomb.

Also, the start of school made my recent struggles to follow through all the more obvious. She got mad at me a couple times for not being on the ball about assignments in journalism. At one point during mid-September, things got so bad that I couldn't talk to her for a few days, for fear that I would blow up.

After one of the sweetest apologies I've ever received, things got much better. We've never had serious problems since.

My birthday in October was awesome. She was the only one out of all of my friends (even Hazel) who remembered. She had written an extremely adorable short story for a gift. It was about a Regency-era tailor (see what she did there?) and his assistant -- an allegory of the friendship we have that was so full of symbolism that I am still finding things three months later.

It was then that I understood her appreciation for me. She's always talked about how I've gotten her excited about writing and piano again, and how I believed in her in a way that nobody else has.

It was also around this time that I fully recognized her as my personal secretary. I mentioned it to her in a joking way, but she took it as seriously as I did. From that point on, she helped me organize my life, taking on large portions of writing group management when I simply could not.

She's an enormous blessing in my life. I don't feel the same way about her that I do Hazel, but she still means a lot to me and I am completely dedicated to her success.

Dang it...I blew all my Savannah stories. I guess there's more to tell...but they're not really stories....

that story is really interesting! do u mind if i might use it to write a story for like a homework project or work for school?

i would deffinitley mention u in it and that i found this story on goodreads. i might change it a bit cause i dont want to pladurise.

In what way?

Dude. The way you talk about people? It makes me want you as my friend. Savannah sounds pretty spectacular. (:

:)

That put a smile on my face for real.

Savannah is pretty great. My friend Eliza and I have a theory that she has a crush on me, so that might explain why she is so awesomely helpful.

I'm glad I made you smile!

Hey, that's why I'm friends with one of my guy friends. It works out well for us girls. (:

Wait, who's Eliza?

Eliza is my poetry friend. Do you want me to talk about her now?

Later. I want to hear a scary story!

Scary story?

I don't scare easy, so I don't have many scary stories....

How about a humorous one about me scaring a bunch of kids?

So, I staffed for a Scout camp when I was 14 years old. It kinda sucked. I was the youngest, and so the rest of the staff made fun of me and kinda just treated me like extra baggage. Anyway, our little camp tradition made me feel useful.

So, there is a running joke from year to year that there is a "were-turkey" haunting the camp. (This is actually feasible because there is a turkey farm nearby.) At the start of each camp (which only runs for a single week each year), the staff talks about the were-turkey and how it attacks bad campers.

These are little twelve-year-olds. They eat it up and believe every word.

So, the first night is always mellow. The kids are put into random groups, so they don't know each other at first. On Tuesday, though, they are extremely talkative after lights out.

The staff has a little bit of fun with them.

I distinctly remember one of the groups we visited. They were sitting up in their tents with flashlights on, looking for all the world like a were-turkey snack shack while they told stupid jokes with punch lines like "your face" or "your mom."

My tent buddy and I sat out there, listening to them until about midnight, then we started making quiet turkey noises.

They stopped talking. We stopped gobbling.

They started talking. We started gobbling louder.

They stopped talking. We stopped gobbling.

Then my tent buddy lets out this blood-curdling shriek. Scared me half to death, but I went along with it and started making extremely loud turkey noises to accompany the screams.

Then he stopped. By now, the kids are wailing in their tents. You can tell they were all genuinely crying. Then I walked over to them slowly and started making almost cheerful turkey sounds.

One kid starts moaning. The other kids stop sobbing long enough to giggle.

"Dude, you wet yourself!"

"Dude, that's nasty!"

More moaning.

We had our fun, so we left.

The next morning, we sent my tent buddy to another part of the camp where the same boys would be camping later that week. During morning announcements, we talked about how poor Devin was now lost to the were-turkey. Then one kid shouts out.

"SCOTT WET HIMSELF!!!!"

The poor kid sank low in his seat. "That were-turkey is seriously freaky."

Everybody tittered, and then we explained that the were-turkey was no laughing matter. We kept Devin hidden until late Wednesday evening, when we had our skit night.

He jumped through the fire we had built making obnoxious turkey sounds. Everyone freaked out, and Scott ran away.

There's not much left to tell. We went to his tent and explained to him that the were-turkey wasn't real. Poor little kid couldn't handle it and stayed in his tent for the rest of the night and most of Thursday. We think he was suffering from shock.

Sad thing is, he's in my seminary class right now.

Good thing he doesn't remember it was me.

Bahaha that sounds like when we took the girls snipe hunting. If it were me, I'd make small turkey noises on occasion. Maybe he's developed an irrational fear. (:

Also, thus has got to be the best topic I've ever made. It helps with my curiosity and ADD and everything like that. (:

I ought to try it. He's one of my favorite people in the class, but it would still be oodles of fun.

I like the topic too. I mean, I'm subjected to your dictatorship, but it's not so bad.

Bwahaha! Soon I'll put up rules to cement my dictatorship, but for now I'll just have to get by with adorableness and puppy eyes. (:

I maybe have time for one more story tonight if you need another one. I've already decided that I'm not doing my Spanish homework, so whatever.

Totally butting in on this conversation, but shame! Why aren't you doing your Spanish homework?

Because I'm dropping the class in a week to take another class. Also, this will be the third year I've done this same homework assignment. Also, this is my seventh year of Spanish. I'm tired.

Tiny, if you have senorita, do. The. Logs.

Kenz, you're not butting in! You tell me a story!

Timmy, did I already have you tell me a sad story?

I did a 12-hour block today, so I'm good there. I'm good about logs this year.

I have not told you a sad story. Let me think one up.

The saddest you can think of!

But not about the suicides last year. The anniversaries at coming up and I am depressed as it is.

Okay....

Switching stories.

I'll post it tomorrow. Exhaustion hit me earlier than it has in months, and I'm gonna take advantage of it.

What sort of story do you want, Falls? You probably won't get it until tomorrow though. Just fyi.

(Fair enough, Taylor/Timothy! I find your excuse acceptable.)

Sorry Timmy. You can tell me that one next Monday.

Kenz, I want a true story. Definitely. About you.

First kiss if that's applicable. (:

Oh science no. Bad memories. I would prefer not to relive that. Preference number two?

Dang it. I'm going to make it part of the rules that you have to tell me if I ask for a specific story, provided it's not to personal. But there are no rules yet, so you win this time. (:

How about the story about you that you or your family lives telling?

By the way, it's fine. The deaths last year weren't all too traumatic to me (except one was extremely personal). I just kinda wanted to share my perspective.

Nah, I've got plenty of sad stories too. I'll pull one out tomorrow.

There's some good ones there. I'll give you something tomorrow during rehearsal, just don't expect anything as long/detailed as Taylor's. I have a very short attention span.

Hey-
I could give you a True story... it's not like great writing and in detail like some ppl...:) but it's a story

I'm always eager to any story! That's what this topic is for. People to tell me stories. (:

I will probably have it up later this morning

Craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap.

I had the story. Then it got deleted.

>:(

Boring so young and naive you make many mistakes... some greater than others and fills your life with regret. Only wishing to rewind the clock begging to fix everything in your life. Filled with sadness blocking out everyone and everything you always said no, always no, never yes. Sometimes you think maybe just maybe if you said yes your life would be different. Breaking your own heart in the process...



Sitting on the curb looking at nothing and no one. Fiddling with the chain around her neck while clutching the heart to her chest.Music plays in her ears making her smile while no one else could. two feet playfully tapped her thighs. looking up at two beautiful brown eyes, shaggy Brown hair with a delicate playful grin.
"Hey you ok?" worry spread through his face... no one cared why did he?
"Yea.. I guess?" he didn't take my answer and sat down beside me throwing his arm softly across my shoulder.I thought I was silent but I was loudly sobbing uncontrollably. I started to take off running but he stopped me lightly with a gentle tight grip.
"what's wrong?" He asked. he let me go and I ran when firmly I heard his name ' Andrew'
I saw him again at the park I turned but he saw me and pulled me in a hug. " I don't even know your name.."
"Haylee'... we can't.. not even.. friends..." I sighed "let me go Andrew please?"



that was true and I feel awful.. I never was depressed I was happy all the time . I just been through a lot and I have a hard to showfeelings to anyone my parents and friends it's awful. but we me nd Andrew are friends and he is always there for me :) now.I like him a lot.but it's complicated which sucks

sorry I didn't do much detail I wrote more but I hit the delete button.. I cried almost but I still tried to get to the point

So. Here's your story, Falls. It's a really short story, but this is what my parents are constantly telling other people.


When I was little, I loved to play dress-up. (I am now appropriately in theatre.) My favorite thing was to dress up as a mermaid, and I would 'swim' around the house and go look for shells (I had a large shell collection that I would hide around the house). It wasn't my sister's favorite game, but the classic quote is, "If you play mermaids with me I'll tie your tail for you!"

Me parents never get sick of telling that story. It's a "classic".

thats very cute kenz:)

when i was 6 or 7 i used to go through my mums wardrobe and wear basically everything she had. then i had to clean it all up because all the clothes were on the floor!

These stories are all wonderful!

I am loving these stories. :)

Me too! I demand another!

Also, I'm putting up rules. (: