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

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

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

Double Life

I feel like I'm leading a double life.

On one hand, I am happier than I've ever been in my entire life. I am happier than I ever thought possible--much happier than I deserve.

It's the people:  my suitemates are perfect living companions:  we get along flawlessly, balancing late-night life discussions and sessions of politely ignoring each other while we do homework. We laugh loudly and often and share inappropriate details about our lives. It is truly awesome.

Cassidy is still my best friend. We understand each other, support each other, and share hilarious text messages that make me burst out laughing in moments of silence. Our relationship feels the same, except older. I think it's what growing up is supposed to be for best friends.

And Gem. Things with Gem are amazingly great. He gives direction to my aimless everyday inefficiencies and overwhelming mundane endeavors. I take the best naps with him. He has the best story ideas. He's the best kind of stubborn. He sent me a Batman ice cube tray in the mail the other day, for no reason. He takes me on dates because he likes to. He sends me spontaneous flirting texts in class and I cannot help smiling.

These people light up my life. Sometimes it almost makes me cry. God is so great. He has blessed me more than I thought possible.

I am so happy.

But on the other hand, I have never been this miserable for this long in my entire life.

This entire semester has been depression and struggle and frustration and helplessness. I have not had a single day where I woke up with a smile and thought I can do this. Every morning has been like a punch in the stomach, oppressive and nauseating.

It's a rule that semesters start off rough, you know? It's hard to shake the summer mindset. It's hard to say goodbye to friends and family back home. It's hard to watch the tan leach from your skin. I expected these routine difficulties. But I did not expect them to persist relentlessly into my third month of junior year.

I am DROWNING in homework, internship, tutoring, and copy-editor duties. Drowning isn't even the right word. Suffocating? Flattening? My Model United Nations class consists of "Here's a textbook. Read it, understand it, and be prepared for tests on it. Also, please become intimately familiar with all current events and events pertaining to the UN from the last fifty years."

There's a conference coming up in November, where I will represent Belgium on a UN committee COMPLETELY ALONE. I have no idea how to prepare for that.

In another poli-sci class, I am the only non-political science or criminal justice major. I have a midterm in that class tomorrow. I haven't had time to study for it.

In all my three English classes, which I love, I think I've completed about ten readings. There has been a lot of skimming and SparkNoting and bullshitting. I hate doing that. I love being an English major. If I didn't have all the tedious, impossible work for my political science minor, I might love my life.

But as things are, I honest-to-God do not know how I'm going to keep going. Am I going to start failing classes? Am I going to start getting sick all the time? Am I going to lose myself in this relentless struggle to juggle my life?

I feel so trapped. There aren't classes or jobs that I can drop. I have to keep doing everything, but it's only going to get worse, and I'm barely keeping my head above water as is.

I love school because I love learning. But at the same time, I do not want to do this anymore. I am so over being constantly graded. I am so over living a life that is functionally disconnected from Gem. I am so over the entanglements of busy work and...just academics.

I know that I don't want to quit school, but at the same time, these overwhelming feelings of depression and helplessness are not tapering off as the semester progresses the way they normally do.

I'm just frustrated. I know exactly what I want with my life, I just can't reach it yet, and I can't tell if I'm on the surest, most efficient path toward that goal. Am I somehow causing myself unnecessary pain and stress? Or is this just the way it has to be for now?

No answers, only questions.

The reality of impending adultness continues.

~Stephanie

Such is Life Sometimes

I have twelve post drafts right now. Most of them are very good ideas, both humorous and genuinely thoughtful. However, I don't feel like writing anything intentionally humorous or thoughtful. I don't feel like writing anything at all, but it's been an appalling amount of time since my last post.

I should've written a seriously heartwarming Father's Day piece, because I have the best dad in the world. I should have at least posted a damn picture of us on Facebook and been like "Omg i hav the best daddy everrrrrrr love you daddddd," but I didn't do that either.

Truth is, I've been mostly frustrated with everyone for a while. Like actually everyone. Everyone annoys me in ways that vary in legitimacy.

Right now I am lying on the living room couch in an overheated tangle of red blanket and pillows. My hair is freshly cut and salon-straightened, which always makes me feel glamorous. The glamor is counteracted by the Nike shorts paired with a nice shirt, though.

The overhead fan is on. But it's still too warm.

I'm not complaining. I'm only trying to think of things to say.

I've gone through this post and deleted every instance of "really" and "just." That added up to five deletions. I think refraining from using those words will make my writing stronger.

I have a job with Classical Conversations as a production intern now, in addition to working at my dance studio. I'm basically living the dream, even though I'm totally still broke. Both jobs pay more than minimum wage, involve activities I enjoy, and offer flexibility. I have no legitimate complaints there.

I feel kinda sick. I've eaten a lot of cookies and ice cream in the past few days. (We hit three graduation parties on Saturday alone.) I currently feel really gross. I've reached the stage where I choose to communicate in sign language and don't want to move my body. I think I'm allergic to being full.

This Thursday, Sarah leaves for Italy and Greece on her 19-day trip. James is logging as many hours at our house as possible before she leaves. Poor guy. He's going to need therapy by the time she gets home.

As will I. But we don't go there. Everyone knows I'll miss her a ton. We don't have to dwell on it.

I fell asleep on Gem's shoulder last week while watching Sherlock (ten hours of babysitting four kids will wear you out). He said I was adorable, but I was actually just embarrassed, so yeah. For the record, I am not actually adorable. He keeps getting that word confused with accurate adjectives likes "difficult" or "exhausted" or "awkward."

I don't know. I will post something eventually. For now, just try not to expect much. It irks me.

~Stephanie

P.S. Look at THIS post. Number 12 is about Gem, and now I can finally say what I was afraid to back then :) I have a huge crush on him and it feels scary serious.

Pollen {warning: graphic}

Are you allergic to pollen? Because I think it might be the worst part about humanity.

It feels like there are a thousand fleas crawling inside my nose and sinuses. Every blink feels like my eyes are rimmed with sand:  a burning sensation crawls across my pupils and tears come in emotionless waves. My nose whistles and rattles, stuffed with crusty debris that will neither clear up nor be blown out, while liquid misery simultaneously pours out, signaling my eyes to water further.

I sneeze. Once, twice, three times, four... The force of the action wracks my body, sending stinging stabs of overwhelming fury and frustration. My throat reacts with weak tingles of protest. A coughing fit seizes for a moment.

My eyes water.

I try to keep them open, both because I need them dry and because I need to do Milton research. I have a 14-16 page paper due in T-minus four days. This professor expects more of me than any I've ever had before. A gentle pounding has begun in the back left corner of my head.

But despite the danger of watering, my eyes scream with the desire to shut.  I can't tell if it's the effects of the ineffective 24-hour Zyrtec I took twelve hours ago, or the lack of good sleep since probably last Monday night.

Last night was the worst. Hot and tangled, the sheets clinging and twisted, ripping me from sleep so my throat could harass me with elusive tickles. Nose crusted over, limbs throbbing from within, mind plagued with near-feverish notions of homework and relationships and moving back home.

Subconscious stress clawed its way to the surface of my mind, refusing to take form for fear of being recognized and properly defeated. Impressionistic swirls of urgency dug into my heart, joining my blood as it circulated around my body to my brain.

Sleep fled, but so did wakefulness, and I tossed and turned with hellish clenches of teeth and grippings of fists.

My alarm went off at 8:45, and though exhausted, I was relieved to be free of the obligation to try to sleep.

I smeared ChapStick over the cracked and bleeding surfaces of my lips. Mouth breathing all night.

Another day. Another day of pollen.

Exams start in three days. I'm not sure how to study when all I can think is "Pollen must be Satan's vomit."

Hope you're doing well :3

~Stephanie

Not Jumping Out a Third-Story Window

Most of you who know me would agree with the following:

Most of the time, I don't work very hard at school.

That doesn't mean I don't get good grades. I happen to be one of those really annoying people who get A's on stuff they did in three days. Here's the difference:

I work harder in those three days than other people do in entire weeks. And I'm miserable.

And I'm in the middle of one of those three-day periods right now, except this time I've somehow painted myself into this hellish corner where it's going to be like a WEEK AND A HALF of brutal school work as opposed to a few days.

Since last Friday, I have not watched one. single. episode. of Breaking Bad. That's how serious I am.

What happened is a series of unfortunate events.

First, for some ungodly reason, I signed up for a group presentation, a solo presentation, and another solo presentation that are all to be given within the same week.

Second, snow days happened, and some professors are assholes.

Third, in the same ten-day period as the aforementioned presentations, I have three tests and a midterm paper.

Fourth, I'm an English major now {it's official! :D}, so tons of reading is always, always, always on my plate, and not in the kind of classes that can be satisfied with SparkNotes. Oh no. These professors expect a whole freaking lot more than that. {I'm not really complaining about this one; I respect it, it just makes this ten-day period kind of like scraping your forehead against a cheese-grater while having your nose hairs plucked out with red-hot tweezers and trying to get the people at McDonald's to get your order right.}

But honestly, y'all, I HAVE been working hard, and even though I'm not sleeping well and have several budding stress ulcers, there's a perverse satisfaction that comes with cramming school work into every waking minute and still managing not to shoot yourself.

Because you know you're going to do just fine in the end.

At least, that's what you have to keep telling yourself.

~Stephanie