Food Freak

We're planning a cooking night with some couple friends for tomorrow. Last night I went out for fondue with some girl friends. Basically the past couple of days have been orchestrated for reminding me how weird my food habits/restrictions are XD

For instance, I don't do alcohol at all. (No, it isn't for religious reasons or because I'm a prude. See here.) It's like I'm on a 23-year no-alcohol streak that I intend never to break. But you know what the base of cheese dipping sauces is at fondue restaurants? Alcohol. Of course, all the alcohol cooks off, so it's not a big deal, but it freaked me out. No way was I breaking my 23-year-long streak for some wickedly expensive Havarti.

I still ate it (delicious, though absolutely not worth the price), but only after texting Gem and getting reassurance that it wouldn't be breaking my streak.

Then, as we planned cooking night for tomorrow, it came up that I can't drink carbonation. (Story: I used to be "addicted"' to CocaCola, so in college I decided to go a whole year without soda of any kind. I did it. And when I drank my celebratory cherry Coke 365 days later, it destroyed my insides. Since then I've tried it several times, and even so much as a sip sends me packing for the bathroom.)

I'm also deathly allergic to peanuts, and slightly allergic to cucumbers, bananas, carrots, and watermelon.

In case any of you ever want to have me over for dinner. Or kill me.

~Stephanie

Complaining?

Hey y'all :)

For a while there it looked like Peripeteia was on its way out. I started using my more "thoughtful, professional" blog, Reason in the Rhyme and stopped feeling particularly attached here.

But lately...that's been changing. I have a lot of less professional thoughts, as evidenced by the last post. Sometimes I just want to talk about my life, or connect with other bloggers, or try out different themes. Reason in the Rhyme doesn't fee like me. It feels like...the Me who wanted a job last year.

So, maybe I'm back, if anyone is still here :)

It feels like blogging is a dying art. Last week, I went to my profile, clicked one of my Interests, and began poking around trying to find bloggers like me. You know what I found? Eight times out of ten, nothing had been posted on the blog since like 2011. That's six years ago, guys. EIGHT TIMES OUT OF TEN.

Granted, I have a LOT of blogs (Carpe Diem, Carpe Noctem, Carpe Liber, to name a few) that are in the same boat, but I also have Peripeteia and Reason.

It seems like in the past few years, blogging has gone from something lots of people do to something that only "successful bloggers" do. Blogging isn't about sharing your thoughts with like-minded people anymore; it's a glamorous platform for people who love their labels. There are fashion blogs and fitness blogs and recipe blogs and frugal lifestyle blogs and...that's, like, it. And if anyone can't get 300+ followers in the first year or so, then she might as well just call it quits. Clearly she isn't meant to be a blogger

I feel it too. I feel like posting here is useless. Peripeteia doesn't have a "theme." It used to be about Winking and Hot Guys. Then it was life updates. Now it's...I don't know.

I want to be free. That was the whole point of this blog. I wanted to get away from the sunshine and butterflies persona of Kendra Logan and be ME. I am still sometimes sunshine and butterflies, but I'm also sarcasm and bitchiness, politics and PG-13 movies.

I hate that now I feel like I have to turn this into a blog with a specific theme.

And I hate that the reason I feel that way is because I want "Followers." Because the truth is, in no way do I have to give this blog a theme. No one is telling me that. It's just that I know no one wants to read a blog that DOESN'T have a theme, and I do--I'll readily admit it--I DO want people to read my blogs.

Maybe the theme of the blog will just be that it's always changing themes.

Maybe I just need to get over myself and not care whether or not anyone reads :)

Probably that.

~ Stephanie

You Might Be an English Major If...

~ You like to laugh at whoever made notes in your literature book before you. They had no clue what they were talking about.

~ You get a special thrill when you've already underlined a passage your professor highlights in class.

~ It takes you three times longer than necessary to study for a literature exam, because you keep getting caught up in how beautiful the words are.

~ Your idea of "relaxing" is paraphrasing Paradise Lost in modern English.

~ You're reading a book for pleasure, but keep feeling like you ought to be taking notes.

~ People ask you grammar questions instead of looking up the answers, because you're faster.

~ Some of the truest joy you've ever felt comes from finding a book source that is truly PERFECT for your research paper. (This happened to me about an hour ago and I'm not gonna lie, I'm still coming down from it.)

~ If listening to your favorite song looks like this.

~ You experience gut-wrenching horror, anger, and sorrow when book-burning is mentioned.

~ A fun evening of relaxing can totally include watching a Macbeth adaptation or reading scholarly articles on femininity in "The Birthmark."

~ You are beyond tired of the question, "So do you wanna teach then?" English majors do not have to be teachers any more than math majors have to be calculators.

~ It feels completely normal to spend 80 minutes talking about phallic and yonic symbols. In fact, you don't really even notice.

~ The inappropriate use of "literally" makes you want to walk away from a conversation--LITERALLY.

~ You are the go-to person whenever someone needs his or her paper edited. And you don't mind.

~ You hear the phrase "country matters" and start giggling mischievously, because Hamlet.

~ You check out a book at the library called "Gold-Hall and Earth-Dragon:  Beowulf as a Metaphor" JUST BECAUSE IT SOUNDS INTERESTING.

~ You have turned in over 100 pages of writing this semester.

~ You cringe whenever directly quoting forces you to use controversial punctuation. {I like my Oxford commas, thank you very much.}

~ You actually have an opinion on the Oxford comma.

~ You go out with your friends and end up talking about Hamlet's psychological state, why you're in love with Emily Dickinson, and how Wallace Stevens was a total nihilist.

~ You care enough to compile a list of things called "You Might Be an English Major If..."

Bonus Round:
You might be a SENIOR English major if...

~ You accept the challenge of writing a paper on a text you have not quite finished reading.

~ You email your professor a question about your paper and justify crossing off "work on paper" from your To Do list.

~ You really hope your professor remembers the amazing paper you wrote freshman year and gives you a massive benefit-of-the-doubt about this current one.

~ You write a blog post about your paper and justify crossing off "work on paper" from your To Do list.

~ You do not crumble at the thought of reading 250 pages in a weekend, and another 400 between Monday and Thursday.

~ You start crying when your professor changes a paper requirement from "12-15 pages" to "10-12 pages."

~ You start crying when your professor postpones a paper deadline by a week.

~ You just generally start crying a lot.

You might be a senior English major at Campbell University if...

~ Your professors are some of the most important and amazing people you've ever had in your life, and you are going to miss them every bit as much as you're going to miss your friends. Free pizza.

I'm not even going to make a joke about Just Kidding I'm Gonna Miss Free Pizza More.

I can't believe this part of the journey is almost over.

~ Stephanie

Bitch, I Can Accomplish More Than One Thing

I’m not sure if I’m staying angry so that I can write this, or if I’m really still furious. I was definitely furious half an hour ago though, of that I am certain.

I teach a section of a class at Campbell called the Campbell University Freshman Seminar (CUFS). It’s basically just a required class for freshmen about how to succeed in college. To be a teacher of this class, I attend meetings every other week with all the other student teachers and we learn teaching strategies and styles etc. Tonight was one of those meetings.

Tonight’s meeting was about Stress Management, and Goal Setting. Stress Management was really fun: we did breathing exercises, listened to music, and colored. Then came Goal Setting, which involved The Stoplight "Game."

We were each given fifteen sticky notes (five green, five red, five yellow). On the red, we were to write things we want to stop doing next semester; on the green, things we want to start doing; on the yellow, things we want to keep doing.

At first it was hard to come up with things, but once the juices got flowing, I really enjoyed the activity. Visualizing my goals made me feel more productive and capable.

Then we lay all the sticky notes in front of us.

“All right,” Carrie, the leader, said. “Now, take away five of them. If you had to give up five goals for next semester, which ones would you discard?”

Ugh, that sucked after working so hard to pick really important things. I was annoyed.

“All right,” Carrie said. “Look at these ten things. These are the ten things you most want to be sure to do next semester.” We all nodded. “Okay, now take away five more.”

Now it just wasn’t cool. I stared at my goals, things like “Make Time for Creative Writing,” “Read my Bible Every Day,” and “Work Out More Consistently” and felt genuinely persecuted as I had to strip five more away. Who was this bitch to tell me that I could only accomplish five damn things next semester?

I still had seven when she beamed at the group again. “All right, now that you have five in front of you—” (“I still have seven,” I muttered to my small group as I finally stripped away "Stop Putting Off Getting Started" and "Start Writing Letters Again") “—I want you to take away two more.”

I glared at her. Wow. Now I had to take away “Blogging” and “Getting the Hard Stuff Done First” (an awesome strategy I’ve somehow just recently bought into).

“Now,” she said. “You guessed it. What if you could only have one goal in front of you? Discard two more. What is the most important thing to you?”

“Wow,” I muttered to my small group. “Obviously ‘Send Out My Resume and Get a Real Job” is the one thing that has to stay. I have to get a job.”

I stared at that little green sticky note which—just minutes ago—had held promise and productivity and passion, and I hated it. I hated its dirty fucking soul.

I had watched my colorful and well-rounded array of life goals boil down to “Hey Bitch. Get your ‘real’ life together.” I had watched goals like “Start Writing Letters Again,” “Eat Healthier,” and “Hang Out With My Roommates” get stripped away because they weren’t “as important” as practical or obligatory shit like “Read My Bible Every Day” (sorry, Jesus, I love doing that. I honestly do. Which is why it was fucking stupid to make me discard it) and “Send Out My Resume.”

It’s just not fair. Seriously, who is this bitch who thinks I can only accomplish one damn thing?!

We then had to continue this activity by sharing with the group and making a timeline for achievement, complete with intermediate goals. As people shared, they had fun insights like “My number one ended up being ‘Get Organized,’ and it’s funny because I realized that if I just get organized, I’ll actually achieve my number two and three goals, which were ‘Study More’ and ‘Sleep More.’”

“Great!” Carrie would say. “That’s great! That’s exactly right. Isn’t it cool how you figure out that by achieving your ultimate goal, a lot of the little things fall into place!”

Except that I actually arranged my goals so that they didn’t overlap like that. ALL of my goals were individually important.

“This might be a fun activity to do with your classes,” Carrie said. “We’re happy to provide sticky notes if you want to come by the office and grab some!”

I will set my classroom on fire before I subject my beloved freshmen to this, I thought.

See, I understand the purpose of the activity. It was to help us prioritize, and that part WAS really interesting. (So interesting that I’m actually going to end this post with my goals in order.) It just also depressed me completely.

Why would you make me come up with things I want to do with my life, then direct me to discard everything that adds color and joy and personality, because—sorry—they can’t realistically make the cut because I’d rather “Start Working Out” than “Start Writing Letters Again.” First of all, that makes me feel like a really shitty person when you make me visually depict the fact that I guess I care more about how I look than keeping in touch with people? Except that I don’t think I’m a shitty person (at least not because of that). I think I can do both of those things perfectly well. Back the fuck off and let me keep my goals.

I know I sound like I’m getting way, way, irrationally angry about this. And maybe I am. Maybe I’m just PMSing. But I just think it’s really painful and unhelpful to make a college senior reduce her life to “Get a Job, Bitch.” But maybe that’s just me.

We shoulda done the Stress Management Workshop last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

15. Clearing Out My Email Inbox Regularly

14. Meeting Up with My CUFS Kids/Keeping in Touch with Them

13. Wasting So Much Time on Facebook

12. Letting My Room Get So Messy

11. Assuming People Don’t Remember Me

10. Hanging Out with My Roommates

9. Eating So Much Junk Food

8. Making Time for Creative Writing

7. Writing Letters Again

6. Stopping Putting off Getting Started

5. Doing the “Hard” Stuff First

4. Blogging

3. Reading My Bible Every Day

2. Working Out More Consistently

1. Sending Out Job Applications/Resume

 ~Stephanie

I Don't Drink

As Told in Pairs

:)

~Stephanie

From What I Broke Free

Eminem and Rihanna came out with "The Monster" on October 29, 2013, about two weeks before I completely lost my integrity for a time.

You're trying to save me? Stop holding your breath.

And you think I'm crazy? Well, that's not fair.

I'd always liked Eminem (anyone who loves words should like Eminem. He is brilliant.), and I'd recently come to admit that I liked Rihanna (as a masochist who struggles with a porn addiction, she'd always hit a little too close to home), but "The Monster" took an unprecedented hold on me.

You know how I used to write in Purple and Green? That's because I used to THINK in Purple and Green, except that it felt like they were thinking for me.

I felt like my mind was made up of three distinct characters:  "Stephanie," "Purple," and "Green." We were each our own person with our own voice. A lot of the time, I--"Stephanie"--wouldn't get very many lines inside my own head. I would sit there and watch/listen to Purple and Green argue and discuss and joke until I felt like I was going legitimately crazy.

They wouldn't let me get a word in, and eventually I figured it didn't matter. Listening to them helped me process my thoughts anyway. I stopped trying to shut them up and started trying to use their interactions to reason my way through life.

Because life was bad.

It didn't always feel bad; in fact, most of the time it felt awesome. It felt like staying up late (to text PC, who I was supposedly broken up with) and saying what I wanted (which included a lot of profanity) and eating what I wanted (whether too little to be healthy or too much to be healthy) and going where I wanted (including to friends' apartments in the middle of the night so I could sleep on the same bed [i.e. dirty mattress on the floor] as PC).

I knew my life wasn't right, but a lot of the time it felt really great. I felt like I was really, truly, finally starting to Grow Up. I guess I thought growing up meant doing whatever you wanted and feeling really jaded about life.

But deep down, I felt so, so empty. I felt lost. I could close my eyes and see my heart inside of my chest:  dark, swirling, smokey fog. Empty. Insubstantial. Uncertain.

I lied to my family a lot. I told creative truths and lies of omission to Cassidy. I lost a lot of respect from my little sister. PC helped me do it all. I felt like he was really helping me though. I felt like he was helping me to Grow Up:  to be my own person and make my own decisions and fight my own inner demons.

He especially seemed to help with the inner demons.

First, he helped me to identify them, which included realizing how "arbitrary" my conditions for dating him were. (I really was being irrational and unkind. I couldn't reasonably expect him to get his life on track before I dated him again. Dating is all about understanding and tackling life together, right? I shouldn't demand that he get a job or become a real Christian first. That could come later.)

Second, he helped me figure out how I could combat the demons. For example, since I felt so guilty about constantly going farther in our physical relationship, we should set boundaries and stick to them. (He was also really patient when I didn't say No loud enough or push his hands away enough times. He constantly offered to draw the boundary lines again, and even offered to stop in the middle and go get protection when it looked like I really wasn't going to be strong enough to resist.)

Third, he offered educated diagnoses for my mental episodes (episodes such as changing my mind a lot, hearing Purple and Green, feeling really depressed, etc.). He gently cautioned me that I might be schizophrenic or have serious repressed sexual issues from childhood. Using extensive internet research and carefully constructed logic, he suggested that I might be a sociopath, and that he could see signs of psychopathy in himself (what a perfect match!).

Eventually I stopped resisting him. He was probably right about everything, and even if he wasn't, I had already gone too far down this particular Growing Up path. PC was not only the best I was ever going to get, he was also what I deserved.

I started hearing "The Monster" on the radio around the time I stopped resisting. I mostly skipped it; I never seemed to be in the mood to learn a new song, and sometimes I still liked to pretend I hated Rihanna. However, it was catchy, and it reminded me of myself in a way that made me smile wryly.

"I'm friends with the monster that's under my bed, get along with the voices inside of my head..."

That line always made me think of Purple and Green.

"You're trying to save me? Stop holding your breath."

My heart would pinch as I thought about PC. He loved me so much. He was trying so hard to help me become my true self. He was trying to save me, but I knew I was beyond help. I was hopeless.

"And you think I'm crazy? Yeah, you think I'm crazy. Well, that's not fair."

That line gave me pause. The rest of the chorus resonated so perfectly with me. But the speaker wasn't crazy? I was crazy. Wasn't I? Didn't I make up unfair, arbitrary conditions for dating PC; and change my mind all the time about how far I wanted to go physically; and hear voices; and have trust issues? I was crazy.

But what if that wasn't fair? What if...what if I could get along with my inner demons and voices in my head by myself? What if I could actually handle them just fine? What if PC's trying to "save" me wasn't really salvation at all? What if his saying that I was "crazy" wasn't true? What if it was a selfish ploy to get what he wanted? What if he was just posing as my savior and convincing me that I was crazy?

Well. That wouldn't be fair.

What if I wasn't crazy? What if I just wanted something different? What if I just wasn't who he wanted me to be? What if I just wanted a different definition of Growing Up? What if he was just labeling me as crazy so that I would trust him over myself?

That's. Not. Fair.

"The Monster" didn't change my life; it didn't inspire me to break with PC once and for all; but it was sort of an unintentional mantra for the next several months. I would listen to it every time it came on the radio, and I would sing along. The last line of the chorus always came out with more conviction than I anticipated:

"WELL, THAT'S NOT FAIR."

How dare he convince me I was crazy just to get what he wanted? That's. Not. Fair.

And now, every time I hear that song, I am reminded that I am my own person. I am reminded that I have to be careful whom I trust. I am NOT crazy just because someone says I am

It's funny:  ever since I really, truly, finally broke it off with PC, Purple and Green have kind of left me alone.

~Stephanie

Some Kind of Validation

Some Kind of Validation

~Stephanie

P.S. The writing is going well. But let's not jinx things.

On the Whole, the Best 365 Days Ever

Left:  this year's spring formal (Mafia themed). Right:  last year's spring formal (Gatsby themed).

"Maybe I'm just trying to find things that were wrong about that night, because really, it throws a good cynic for a loop when an evening turns out perfectly." - 20-year-old Me, when Gem and I became "official"--March 23, 2014.

Today it has been a whole year, and I still feel like a cynic thrown for a loop. How has this past year been real?

I honestly don't know what it would have been like without Gem. Possible, certainly, but not much besides that. Junior year of college has been an utterly indescribable beast (and I'm still not convinced that I'll make it out alive); Gem has kept me saner and happier than I could have been otherwise.

I remember in June (head-over-heels in love, all blushing and lightheartedness and sparkles and warm fuzzies) thinking "Dang. This can't last. It's gonna suck when this feeling wears off." But guess what?

It hasn't worn off.

Sure, there's been arguing and frustration and embarrassment, but I sit here today and blush over how good he looked at this year's spring formal, and smile when I think about seeing him again, and sparkle when someone asks about him, and fill with warmth when I think about the little things.

Little things like how in a big city, when we're about to have to run across the street before the light changes, he always glances back and holds his hand out for me. How I told him one time that I think guy should open the girl's car door on special occasions, and now he remembers every time. Or how whenever I say I'm feeling lonely, the next thing I know, he's FaceTiming me. Or how he still asks me out on Dates even though "we're already dating," because he says he loves taking me places.

I love dating him. He's the one I would choose, 100% of the time :)

I don't let him read this blog, but I'm gonna say it here anyway: "Happy Anniversary, Gem!"

~Stephanie

P.S. I will try to post something not Gem-related soon.

Guilt, Fifty Shades, and Valentine's Day {all unrelated, believe it or not}

Let me tell you a little something about myself (because after reading my thoughts for four years, you know nothing, of course):  When I feel bad about how long it's taking me to do something, I continue to not do it.

Examples:
- Justin texted me on February 11 asking if I was on campus because he was visiting. I was busy and didn't reply that day. I feel bad. So I still haven't replied.
- I have been working on a promotional piece for someone's website since the beginning of the year. She emailed me with some critique at the beginning of this month. I was swamped in schoolwork and didn't know what to do about it. So I temporarily ignored it. I feel bad. So I am still ignoring it.
- James wrote me a letter about ten months ago. It was amazingly great. I didn't write back right away. I felt bad. So I still haven't written back.
- I haven't blogged since Christmas Eve. I feel bad about it. So I've been not blogging.

Hi? *sheepish look*

{But I mean, in addition to all the guilty feels, I have also been swamped in homework and all the, like, not responding to other stuff, so...}

I also haven't had anything to say, besides life updates, which is kind of not what this blog was intended for, you know? It was supposed to be social commentary and life hacks and sort of pointless well-written pieces. It has mostly devolved into me alternately whining about school work and gushing about Gem.

Hey speaking of Gem. Doesn't he look like the world's most precious and endearing squirrel in this picture?

Yeah. But really, back off; he's mine.

I really wanted to post a response to all the commotion about "Fifty Shades of Grey" (Gray? Grey.), but...I dunno. It seemed pointless. People who hate it already know why they hate it. People who like it also know why people who hate it hate it. It's not really complicated. But if I were going to post about it, I would probably make these three points:

1) BDSM is not going to send you to Hell, so stop condemning people who like it rough. However, what is depicted in "Fifty Shades" isn't necessarily how "correct" BDSM is supposed to work. So. That's not good.
2) I have read a lot of "Fifty Shades," and it is an absolute disgrace to good writing. I am 100%, utterly, unreservedly certain that I can write better erotica than that. Hands down. Not even kidding. If it weren't immoral I would offer to send you proof. "Fifty Shades" completely disgusted me from an artistic standpoint. This is honestly what infuriates me the most about the whole thing. If someone ever writes an erotic novel that is good, I will review it and admit it. It can be done well--not MORALLY, but at least ARTISTICALLY. Which brings me to...
3) It's definitely porn. There is nothing classy or artistic about it, it is just straight up girl porn and not well done. See point two. Maybe if it were actually well-written it could at least be artistically valuable, but it's literary shit.

Alrighty. I am now dragging myself away from this topic. I don't think any more needs to be said from me. It would get ramble-y. {That being said, if you have questions or vehement disagreement or anything, I would be glad to listen and respond.}

Mmm. That's enough content for now. I really do have school work to do.

Here what else has been up, just btw.

Passion Conference 2015

I Turned 21

{I also went "out," of course, but there are not very good pictures from that.}

My suite mates threw me a surprise party when I got back :3 They are seriously the best.

I Celebrated My First "Real" Valentine's Day (i.e. with a boyfriend who did more than just text me "Happy V. Day" at some point during the 24-hour span)

We went to a local state park, which was gorgeous.

 

Then got cleaned up and headed to a restaurant, where we ate the best food I think I've ever had. Not even kidding. When we tried the chocolate lava cake dessert, we just lost it. Did not even try to be mature adults about it.

~Stephanie

From Christmas 2013

12/24/13

Dear Christmas 2014 Eve Stephanie,

Hey :) How are you? I come bringing you good news. Would you like to hear it?

You are in a better place than me! Isn't that a relief? I am so happy for you. I worked really hard to get you here. I dedicated myself to my school work, and opened myself up to new friends, and tried to get deeper with God, and wrote more, and read more, and pushed Sam to the right place on my priority list.

You are the result of a very difficult Christmas 2013, and probably a pretty tearful following New Year's Eve. How do you feel? Pearls are made from being trapped. A phoenix rises stronger from the ashes. Diamonds form under great pressure.

You a pearl, a phoenix, and a diamond, produced from the captivity, heat, and pressure I'm feeling right now. I'm so glad that you're alive. Aren't you glad? Isn't it nice just to be alive?

I don't care if you have a boyfriend or not :) If you do, I trust that you think a lot of him and the two of you are a reasonable kind of happy. If you don't, keep believing that God has someone good for you, someone who will ask you on real dates, and write you letters, and pray with you, and make you laugh, and propel his own life forwards.

I hope you're loving being an English major. I think you are, even if you've been frustrated this year. You love words so much. Just think about how you feel when you read a good book, and how powerful writing inspiration is. So many people have told met hat I'm a good writer, so you must be even better. Remember, every time you think you've lost your touch, you read and love something you wrote LAST time you thought you lost your touch. Things go in cycles. You're destined to write something worth it, I'm sure. Believe that.

You're not fat. Don't even think that. You look great, I'm totally sure. I'm going to make sure of it.

I bet you have time to read a whole book between now and when you go back to school. Go for it!

Please don't be sad :) I'm fighting considerable sadness myself, and the thought of you being happy is one of the only things keeping me going.

Love you, Stephanie of Christmas 2014! I hope your first year out of the teens has been alright!

~Christmas 2013 Stephanie

Thankful. Or "Hashtag Blessed," If You Will

This has been an enigmatic Thanksgiving.

I got home on Monday night with two term papers to write completely. They have made me stressed, irritable, and unable to relax. {I still love being an English major. But really, fml.} As I type this, I have one complete rough draft of one paper {due Monday}. Today I will research and outline for the other {due Tuesday}, and write it tomorrow and Monday.

I really need an A on both papers. Unfortunately, I think I only have the time, energy, and resources to pull out Cs or Bs. But hey. In five days, it'll be over. For better or for worse, in five days there will be nothing I can do and I am pretty damn sure I can live with that.

For the next fifty minutes, I am giving myself a break. I will eat lunch, and I will blog. Because deep down inside, I'm actually perversely happy. This Thanksgiving has kind of sucked, but at the same time, it's been uniquely great. I want to take some time and Be Thankful since I didn't actually do it on Facebook like everyone else on the planet.

Family

Or more specifically, a Mom who's like my best friend, partner in crime, and confidante now {when did she stop judging me and start being my ally?}; a Daddy who always looks for the best in every person and every situation; and a sister who I would CHOOSE to hang out with pretty much any day of the week.

Roommates

Or more specifically, Harley {the redhead with the thumbs up}. Harley is my best friend at school. We get along flawlessly. I think we're the only two in the apartment who haven't gotten on each others' nerves. I help her with her papers; she lets me use her printer. She washes the dishes; I pick up her late-night cravings on my way back from work. There are no conversational boundaries. We laugh til we cry. And we form a Thermostat Team against Mary and Allison who like the apartment to be Hot As Actual Balls.

Internship

Yeah, it totally sucked away all my homework hours and made me have to do these papers over freaking Thanksgiving. BUT it also introduced me to the world's best boss, the world's coolest coworker, the world's greatest coffee, and a lot of unbelievable opportunities for the future. So cheers.

SRMUN

The Southern Regional Model United Nations conference. Like the internship, this conference kind of made my life Hell and contributed to having to do papers over freaking Thanksgiving. BUT AGAIN, I met amazing people, made hilariously awesome and eye-opening memories, and opened excellent future doors. So I am thankful it happened.

Cassidy {on the right}

Who apparently doesn't have any recent pictures of just herself. So I am also thankful for Allison on the left. But Cassidy is the girl I am closest to on the planet. I can't live without Sarah, and Harley is my everyday buddy, but Cassidy knows it all. She supports me, listens to me, advises me, helps me see things more clearly {including myself}. We laugh together, have those eye conversations, discuss makeup, discuss people, discuss futures. She may or may not have a Pinterest board dedicated to MY wedding one day... She's gorgeous, brilliant, loyal, hilarious, and I am so lucky to have her in my life.

No More Wisdom Teeth

Seriously. Having my wisdom teeth removed had been hanging over my head for like a decade.

The Road Trip

After three years of joking around, we took the trip of a lifetime. Those laughs, pains, sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and stories will be a highlight of my life until I die. I'm sure. From sharing a tent, to belting out songs in the car, to seeing the St. Louis Arch, to walking around Chicago at night... There are no words. Just trust me when I say this trip easily ranks in the top five Best Experiences of My Life.

Working Out

The place, the ability, the people to do it with. I love feeling strong and healthy.

This Kid

I'm sorry. I'm just really, really, inappropriately, overpoweringly happy that I'm dating him. I'm not even gonna try to be sarcastic and offhand about this. I'm in love with him and I think he's amazing.

He's the kind of guy who would like to spend an evening playing cards, but went out clubbing with me anyway.

He's the kind of guy who gave up forty-five minutes and a lot of convenience to figure out a way to watch A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving with me.

He's the kind of guy who buys me books and reads Paradise Lost for me even though he's not an epic poetry fan.

He's the kind of guy who can both make me blush and make me feel genuinely valued.

I've been lost in love before, and it almost destroyed me. But being lost in love with Gem feels an awful lot like being Found.

Runners Up for Most Appreciated In My Life:
1. ChapStick
2. Coffee
3. New windshield wipers
4. That hangnail finally leaving
5. Not having to have braces
6. Chocolate

And also, thank YOU for sticking with me :) I really do love you guys.

~Stephanie

Just Another Blog About Marriage

I have a problem.

My Facebook newsfeed is clogged with blog posts about marriage. "Single and Not Waiting." "My Husband is Not My Soul Mate." "I Wasn't Ready For Marriage." "Got Engaged and Immediately Doubted My Decision." "Hey Young People: Now's the Time to Get Married." "Stop Dating Someone You Don't Have a Future With."

Oh. My. God.

Leave. Us. Alone.

{And thus, my problem:  How do I blog about blog posts about marriage clogging up media without it being ridiculously ironic? Answer: I don't know. If I figure out a way before I finish this post, awesome. If I don't, I'm posting anyway. Everyone knows I love irony.}

I honestly don't know why this annoys me so much. Maybe because I feel like it's a trend. It's TRENDY to talk about marriage right now. It's an infinity-scarves-and-Starbucks thing. It's just what profound Christian twenty-something bloggers discuss. The theme came up out nowhere, and will probably disappear having made no lasting impression on the world.

Marriage is important, yes. There are lots of misconceptions about marriage, and singleness, and the terrifying pop-culture concept of "The One;" I get it. We need to talk about it. We need to clarify the misconceptions and dispel the terror. We need to return to the Bible and be smart about how much we depend on another human for happiness and wholeness. Yes.

But damn. I'm dating a guy and I love him and I'm happy and we both love God and we get along great and we see a future together and I don't need some chick in Canada telling me that I have to put God first--I know that. I don't need some guy telling me that getting married isn't going to cause me financial stress--I pretty much know that it will, in fact, because combining two separate incomes and lifestyles will always pose adjustments. I don't need someone to tell me that I'm going to have doubts if I say Yes to a proposal--I am human and also Stephanie. Of COURSE I'm going to freak out and second-guess. {Although I do happen to have liked Mo's post a lot.} {And I like Matt Walsh, too.}

Maybe I'm just being bitter and petty and immature, but I feel like the media avalanche of marriage commentary is unnecessary. Anyone seriously considering marriage will come to these articles' conclusions on their own, and if they don't--in some cases--maybe that's okay.

If you're a Christian and you don't know to put God ahead of your spouse, then there are issues that a bubbly blog post is not going to fix.

And maybe you can marry someone you believe to be your soul mate and have a totally healthy marriage. Maybe you can live a totally moral and successful life without the disillusioning kick in the teeth of "HA HA YOU JUST HAVE TO MAKE IT WORK BECAUSE THERE IS NO ONE RIGHT FOR YOU."

Don't get me wrong, those articles are well-written and I understand the merit of being freed from counterproductive notions of marital perfection. I just subscribe to the Morgan Freeman method of social problem-solving. How do we fix all these problems? "Stop talking about them."

Can we stop obsessing and looking to other people to feed us Truths about life? What ever happened to logic and personal prayer and self-awareness? I just don't see taking someone seriously who comes up to me and says, "Oh my gawsh, this article, like, changed my life-ah."

{See, I can't even hear that sentence in anything but a Valley Girl voice.}

I think lasting, heartfelt revelations regarding anything, but maybe ESPECIALLY marriage, need to come from sources much more personal than mass-distributed blog posts.

I like to think that my role as a blogger is to start conversations. I have conversations, debates, and evaluations in my head, and I write about them as a way to process my thoughts. I hope that my posts might spark similar discussions inside your heads. But I never presume to tell you what to think. I'm not going to lie to you, but I will also be the first to tell you that I am not an end-all-be-all source of Truth. I'm not an idiot.

I'm still not sure if I've answered my own question of "why do I hate the torrent of marriage-related articles." Yes, I think they're overrated; Yes, I think they're pretentious and unnecessary; Yes, I think real heart changes come from more personal sources than blogs.

But maybe I just hate them because they're trendy and I'm tired of them. That also sounds like something I would do.

What are you thoughts on this?

~Stephanie

Colors on My Soul

"Teal”

10/27/14

I loved a boy with a teal soul.

He had teal eyes,

Neither blue nor green.

Ambiguous. Enigmatic.

Small and piercing; slicing, sharp.

They were a one-way door.

Sly and sneaking, seeking.

Secretive. Shocking. Stealthy.

They pierced, they sliced,

They sought, they stole.

It was a teal soul.

"Green and Gold"

10/28/14

I love a boy with brown eyes.

He has a soul of green and gold:

Deep with alive; rich with warm.

Gentle and bold.

Present and open; promising, proud.

They brought integrity.

Passionate and polite, perceiving.

Persistent. Pursuing. Purposeful.

They healed, they prodded,

They praised, they protected.

It made me whole,

His green and gold soul.

~Stephanie

Aspirations

You know how some people--and maybe you're one of them--can make a cup of coffee or a bag of M&Ms last for like hours? The cup just sits beside them on the desk as they attend to their work with focus and tranquility, largely oblivious to the delicacy at hand. Occasionally they'll take a sip. The steam starts to subside, but they don't seem to mind. They have mastered the arts of moderation and indifference.

I am profoundly jealous of this mastery.

I first noted this kind of detachment when I was eight years old. Matt, a first-grader, would come over to our house after school if his babysitter had some other commitment. Sometimes Mom would give us a snack--chocolate chips or something--to eat as we did our homework.

My chocolate chips were always gone within the first three or four minutes. They were delicious, and after a single chip, I became a temporary chocolate addict. I couldn't resist eating them one after another until they were gone, and my homework barely started.

Matt did his homework with the meandering, selective attention of a little boy who does not want to use a number line to practice subtraction. However, he ate his chocolate chips the same way. Every few minutes, he would blink at his snack as if he'd just remembered it, pick up a couple of chips, and then immediately forget his snack's existence again.

How could he care so little about chocolate chips? How was he not driven crazy by their tempting presence until it was fully relocated into his stomach?

As a third-grader, I chalked it up to the fact that Matt had funner food at his house (which was true). He was used to candy for snack; it wasn't a treat for him. It has lost its novelty. I wondered if the same phenomenon would be true for me if I ever became rich enough to have fun food on hand at all times.

To some extent, that philosophy proved true. My family now has orange juice on a regular basis, and I no longer feel compelled to drink it all the time just because it's there. The same is true of cookies, and Cheez-Its, and flavored yogurt. I have risen above the animalistic urge to consume these relatively mundane foods.

However.

With "treat" foods and beverages, the art of pacing oneself is still lost on me. I buy a smoothie, and it's half gone before I'm even back in my dorm room. I open a 2-serving bag of M&Ms, and within ten minutes, it's empty. I grab an iced coffee on the way to work, and I'm sucking at the ice fifteen minutes later.

Meanwhile, I watch people around me exercise this intensely classy combination of absentminded appreciation and tranquil indifference to their "treats." Large iced coffees go minutes and minutes and MINUTES without even being touched, and people don't even seem to be struggling to resist.

Maybe they're just all rich and have treats all the time and the novelty has been lost, like Matt with his chocolate chips? Or am I totally and abnormally self-control-deficient when it comes to delicious things?

All I know is that I envy the air of maturity embodied by people who can resist their treats. It's a level of maturity to which I genuinely aspire.

And I will get there, even if it means drinking steamless coffee and drooling on my keyboard.

~Stephanie

Surprising Existence

Remember when I posted my list of 50 Desirable Guy Qualities last November? I called the post "A Non-Existent Character."

Today, as I procrastinate a little during lunchtime, I remembered that post. Seeing as I'm dating someone I'm pretty crazy about, I decided to look at the list in light of Gem, just to see where things stood.

I'm not sure if you guys particularly care about this, as it really just pertains to me, but hey, this is my blog and I'll do what I want.

Here's the original post, with new comments in italics; green means Gem's got it.

Stephanie's List of Desirable Guy Qualities (in mostly no particular order)
1. Christian - Gem is one of the realist Christians I know.

2. musician {note:  not "plays an instrument." I think playing an instrument and being a musician are 
different things.} - This one is tricky. Gem plays the piano well, but he is not a musician. But he has the most amazing sixth sense with music I've ever seen. I'll have to explain it in a whole post sometime.
 
3. can dance

4. dark hair

5. good singing voice

6. likes to read - And he actually does. A LOT.

7. self-motivated - Depends. But in the interest of not going completely and totally overboard complimenting him, I'm gonna leave this black.

8. in good shape - *blush*

9. knows what he wants to do with his life

10. knows how to make his dreams a reality

11. loves Disney

12. has a sense of irony

13. has the same sense of humor as me

14. knows when to stop

15. likes kids

16. plays a sport - Used to be a swimmer
 
17. stubborn - Yes, but in an unusual way. It's like he's infinitely patient and steadfast when his mind is made up.
 
18. able to converse in an engaging and effective manner with people of all ages

19. a science or math person, maybe

20. likes to argue

21. pretty eyes

22. honest {includes keeping promises as well as not lying}

 23. crooked smile

24. expressive eyebrows

25. will fight for those he loves

26. taller than me

27. tan

28. Having done drugs is not a problem, but he has to be morally against them now. - He has not done them, never will, and is against them.
 
29. mindful of money

30. Chivalrous. Opens doors, walks a girl home/to her car/to her dorm, sits on the outside at restaurants, walks next to the road, carries stuff, pays for stuff.

31. unselfish - He likes to do unselfish things for people, but part of it is that he likes to feel like a hero XD Sooo, not sure if this counts as totally unselfish. But to the untrained eye, yes.
 
32. not in the military

33. cusses occasionally and artfully - "Hell" and "damn" are pretty much the extent of it, but his comedic timing is pretty good.
 
34. can start a real fire

35. can tie real knots

36. good/similar taste as me in music - Mmm. This is a weird one too. We have pretty different taste in music. But...I have to say that his taste is also "good" because of simply how good he is with music.
 
37. doesn't disrespect his girlfriend when talking to his friends

38. can help me with writing - He's very perceptive and "real" with his help. He doesn't just compliment my writing, he points out inconsistencies or things that don't make sense, and gives real suggestions. It really took me aback at first, but I appreciate it a ton now.
 
39. good with directions - Freaking unbelievably good.
 
40. assertive - He's very careful and tactful with his words, but he is not afraid to take the lead in conversations or call me out on my BS.

  41. good grasp of grammar - Yes. However, he does the your/you're thing entirely too often.
 
42. hard-working

43. confident

44. understands me - He understands me in  this weirdly simple way, like it's natural and uncomplicated, even when I don't even understand myself.
 
45. patient {I'm not talking about the angelic sort of patience, but the calm, persistent kind of patience} - Yes. Just yes.
 
46. observant - Freakishly.
 
47. not a Yankee

48. politically conservative

49. adventurous - This is weird. I'd describe him as "adventurous" even though he's, like, kinda not. He likes adventures, but he's generally very practical and cautious--which is great, because it balances my ridiculous, dangerous impulsiveness.

50. writes letters - He does for me :)

45/50. Not bad for a non-existent character :)

~Stephanie

Sunflower Award

Thanks, Alana! :)

 

11 Facts

~ I can crack my elbows.

 

~ I find death growls sexy.

 

~ My stomach gets noticeably way tanner than the rest of my body.

 

~  You know how basically everything in my Fire Fairy stories has come true in real life? {No? Well, it has. To a truly freaky degree.} Well, it recently occurred to me that Ember and Coal break up because Coal can't control his ability to lie and deceive, and Ember just can't handle it anymore.

mind = blown.

~ Bearing that in mind, I wonder when Ellie will announce her pregnancy with a boy...

~ On my first date with Gem, there was an ice storm--everything was either closed or massively crowded--and we saw Mr. Peabody and Sherman XD

~ My hair is getting increasingly curly. I mostly like it.

~ I've recently started blushing. I have never been a blusher. But someone just brings it right out. I hate.

~ I recently love turkey a lot.

~ I still don't like flowers. Except orchids. Which I still like.

~ I am 85% sure that I'm going to see Linkin Park again in August!!!!! :D

 

1) What's a musical instrument that you've always wanted to learn how to play, but haven't yet?

I really like that you added "yet." It allows me to believe that I may still learn to play...THE GUITAR! :D I have a beautiful, black acoustic guitar named Liath who does not get played hardly at all.

 

2) If you could live inside the world of your favorite book, what would it be?





Mmmm...well, my favorite book is probably "The Great Gatsby" or "Tex," but I wouldn't necessarily want to live in them. Middle Earth is hands-down the fantasy world I would choose to live in.

3) What was your favorite thing to play with when you were little?

Dollhouse (those "shows" would go on for eight hours with nooooo problem) or Slaves/Orphans/Pirates/Spies/A Combination of Those Four.

4) If you could decide what the weather was like all the time, what would it be?
75, breezy and clear. But I would miss thunderstorms a painful amount.

5) If you had to chose between being a wife/mother and being a career woman, what would you chose?
Wife/mother. But nothing will stop me from writing.

6) What's your biggest regret?
Honestly, nothing comes to mind. All my potential regrets have made me who I am, and I've found ways to appreciate them without "regretting" per se. Except recently, I have realized that I wish I hadn't shared as much vulnerability with PC. I gave away things that should have been saved until they could be beautiful.

7) Who is your hero and why? What could you do to make yourself more like that person?
THIS IS MASQUERADING AS A SINGLE QUESTION. {No, I could not spell "masquerading" without spellcheck.} Um... I've always wanted to grow up and be like my dance teacher, Mrs. Jennifer. She's a talented dancer and choreographer, and she's an absolute model of graciousness, sarcasm, and fun. She has four awesome kids, and I love the way she handles them. She also genuinely listens to everyone and remembers things like a machiiiiiiiiiiiine.

Step 1 of being more like her is making a more conscious effort to listen, invest in, and care about people. I'm truly pathetic at those things.


7 New Questions
1. What is your favorite flavor of Goldfish? Are you aware that cupcake-flavored Goldfish exist?
2. Which do you usually value higher:  justice or mercy?
3. What is your favorite emoticon?
4. What's the last thing you said out loud?
5. What was your first email address? Why that?
6. Who's an actor/actress you hate?
7. Is/was your house more fun when mom's gone, or when dad's gone?


I nominate...anyone who's low on posting ideas and wants to use these questions :)


~Stephanie

In My Arms Reprise

WARNING:  This post may get sappy. It will definitely praise God.
 ~~~~~~~~~
A little over a year ago, I posted THESE lyrics.

To date, I think "In My Arms" by Dead By April is the most influential song in my life. A year ago, God broke my heart, with a lot of help from myself and someone else.

 {I know it's hard to let go all that defines you. You feel like you'll never be whole again.}
 
When I heard "In My Arms" one day in April of 2013, I KNEW God was speaking to me. I let my walls come down and I just surrendered it all to Him. I demanded of myself to trust God and brokenly believe that the words of "In My Arms" would someday be true for me.

I. HAD. NO. IDEA.

{Don't give in. Don't let your memories break you.}

I spent a year trying not to let my memories of PC break me. I tried not to look back. For the first five or six months, I failed miserably. I deserted all my promises to God. I turned back to my own twisted logic. I began to depend on my own perversions of the future. It was unhealthy and shameful and I lost a lot more than just valuable time.

The words of "In My Arms" remained a faint but persistent promise in the back of my mind.

{All you've lost will come again; just stay here with me.}

I couldn't imagine gaining back a fraction of what I'd had in PC. He was my best friend. He represented everything I'd ever wanted in a companion, plus some. He understood me. He challenged me. He made me happy.

All I'd lost would come again? WAS GOD CRAZY?! WHAT KIND OF RIDICULOUS BULLSHIT WAS HE TRYING TO FEED ME?

I finally got a grip around the middle of this past December. I don't know why, but a straw broke my back and I in turn broke free from my broken lifestyle and broken relationship.

It hurt intensely for about a week. And then?

I haven't looked back. I haven't let my memories break me. Honestly, they're starting to fade, and rather than panic and relive them in my head, I'm just letting them. I'll never forget PC, and I'll always love him, but I don't feel compelled to deal with the painful close clarity of the memories. It's unnecessary. It's unhelpful.

He defined me entirely too much. Looking back, that fact has filled me with an indignant resentment. But lately, the resentment is distant; it's shadowy, easily put out by the light of my life now.

Because in just one short year, God has shown me that He is not a liar. In fact, he has shown me his divine ability to remain faithful even when we are faithless.

I've spent the past year living 90% for myself. I've made selfish, immoral, dangerous, short-sighted, tragic decisions. I haven't prayed enough. I haven't read the Bible enough. I haven't been a good representation of a Christian at all.

But for some reason, God has decided to show me what He and His promises are made of.

All I've lost will come again?

Thankfully, that is not quite the case. Instead, God has given me immeasurably more than anything I've ever had before.

I've JUST started dating Gem, so it's way too early to be feeling or knowing much, but guuuuuuuuys. This boy. Life is so not all about boys or dating, and God certainly isn't, and normally I'm not either, so it's very unexpected and unprecedented that God has decided to reveal His "all you've lost will come again" promise with such a direct, parallel shift:  when I finally relinquished PC, I could see Gem.

I don't know why Gem waited for me for three years. I cannot wrap my mind around why he wants to date me now. He is so out of my league.

I don't know what God has planned for me and Gem. Maybe we'll date over the whole summer; maybe we'll decide being friends is better for us; maybe we'll last for a long time. All I know is that when I finally stopped fighting God tooth and nail for MY plan with PC, God opened up floodgates of amazing, amazing things.

There is more joy in the world than I thought possible. And right now it feels like God is trying to hand every last bit of it to me :)

That song! "In My Arms" came true! When I posted it, I didn't know how it could be true, I just knew that God was calling me to trust it blindly. Eventually, I submitted to God's plan, and oh my gosh, a year later, I sit here and wonder how I was so blind for so long.

How could I have doubted God? I really hope I get better at not doing that XD

~Stephanie