Some Kind of Validation
~Stephanie
P.S. The writing is going well. But let's not jinx things.
Tuesday, July 28, 2015
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
I Need Your Help
I'm going to start writing again. Real writing, as in "the stories that I've always wanted to write, but haven't because I'm lazy and terrified of failure."
I am going to try to write "The Mirror." The problem is, I've started it three separate times. One version has over a hundred thousand words. One version has just over six thousand. The version I started today has four hundred and seventeen.
It's all the same story, but the openings are all very, very different. Would you be willing to read the opening few paragraphs of each version and tell me which one you like the best?
I'm going to post them here in case your answer is Yes. It would really help me to get some momentum if you'd help me out. I'm just so familiar with this story that I can't seem to see it well anymore. Kind of like missing the forest for the trees.
Anyway, thanks in advance, maybe :) I'd appreciate the thoughts and prayers as I try to revive the near-dead writer in my heart.
Version 1 (circa 2008)
I should have known from the moment the idea came into my mind that I’d end up over my head in something I couldn’t control; that was usually the way things worked out, but never in a million years would I have dreamed anything could turn out so horrific.
It all happened because I asked Darren Blackburn to the dance. Or at least I think it did.
It’s not what you think. This is not your typical I-Wish-I’d-Never-Asked-That-Creep-That-Was-The-Worst-Night-Of-My-Life kind of thing. It really isn’t Darren’s fault. This horrific thing is something you’d never worry about when going on a “date.” I mean, who thinks as they look in the mirror one last time, “Gee, I really hope my date doesn’t have some terrible secret I should know about before I get swept up in something TOTALLY OVER MY HEAD THAT I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO GET OUT OF.” Sorry. Like I said before, it really isn’t his fault—exactly.
Okay. Not making any sense, am I? Um…okay…I’ll start at the beginning, but I’m not exactly sure where the beginning is. Okay. Here. I’ll try, but I’m warning you: I’m no good at storytelling, and telling your own life’s story is even harder
Version 2 (circa 2012)
Version 3 (today)
~Stephanie
I am going to try to write "The Mirror." The problem is, I've started it three separate times. One version has over a hundred thousand words. One version has just over six thousand. The version I started today has four hundred and seventeen.
It's all the same story, but the openings are all very, very different. Would you be willing to read the opening few paragraphs of each version and tell me which one you like the best?
I'm going to post them here in case your answer is Yes. It would really help me to get some momentum if you'd help me out. I'm just so familiar with this story that I can't seem to see it well anymore. Kind of like missing the forest for the trees.
Anyway, thanks in advance, maybe :) I'd appreciate the thoughts and prayers as I try to revive the near-dead writer in my heart.
Version 1 (circa 2008)
I should have known from the moment the idea came into my mind that I’d end up over my head in something I couldn’t control; that was usually the way things worked out, but never in a million years would I have dreamed anything could turn out so horrific.
It all happened because I asked Darren Blackburn to the dance. Or at least I think it did.
It’s not what you think. This is not your typical I-Wish-I’d-Never-Asked-That-Creep-That-Was-The-Worst-Night-Of-My-Life kind of thing. It really isn’t Darren’s fault. This horrific thing is something you’d never worry about when going on a “date.” I mean, who thinks as they look in the mirror one last time, “Gee, I really hope my date doesn’t have some terrible secret I should know about before I get swept up in something TOTALLY OVER MY HEAD THAT I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO GET OUT OF.” Sorry. Like I said before, it really isn’t his fault—exactly.
Okay. Not making any sense, am I? Um…okay…I’ll start at the beginning, but I’m not exactly sure where the beginning is. Okay. Here. I’ll try, but I’m warning you: I’m no good at storytelling, and telling your own life’s story is even harder
Version 2 (circa 2012)
I had
always been a reader. I might say
“dreamer” if it weren’t for the dewy-eyed connotation. I just loved books, and everything they
represented. I loved persuasion,
knowledge, and words. I craved adventure,
thrived on intrigue, and wanted to leave a glorious mark on the world.
At
fourteen, I began to untangle myself from the wild flights of fantasy and
decided that the best way to leave a mark was to become a lawyer. Or a teacher.
One of those. I gave up on finding
Neverland or the genie’s lamp.
It never
occurred to me to look for adventure in an old mirror, although I guess
technically I never did; it was Darren.
Getting caught up in the whole Sorayoni thing didn’t fit my plan at all
(not that it fit Darren’s either).
Looking
back on that night junior year, I always wonder if I’d do anything
differently. Even now, I’m not
sure. All I know is that I was entirely
too eager and had no idea what I was doing.
For a logical human being who reads so much, both those facts should
have been red flags. Darren even tried
to warn me. But I did what I did because
I was who I was, and it’s as simple (or as complicated) as that.
This
probably isn’t making that much sense. I
guess I’ll just do what one traditionally does in this position:
Start
from the beginning.
Version 3 (today)
Growing up is a funny thing. When
you’re a kid, you assume that you’re old enough to…fill in the blank: cross the street, pour the milk, critique parenting
methods. Then for the next ten years, you make a habit of looking back and
rolling your eyes at your younger self:
wow; how stupid, incapable, and naïve you were. Now, at this new age,
you actually know everything. In high
school, you hit the age where you’re grown up enough that it becomes acceptably
cool to like some childish things again, like Disney movies and playgrounds and
your old teddy bear.
Eventually, you grow to the point
where you are only certain of how little you know. You are only certain of how
uncertain life actually is. You look back at your younger self and covet that
innocence, that freedom of the soul, that psychological invincibility. Wanting
to be a grownup is the mark of a child; wanting to be a child is the mark of a
grownup.
I don’t know at what age that natural
switch typically happens. All I know is that for me, it happened unnaturally,
atypically, and fantastically. And not “fantastically” as in “shockingly happy
beyond comprehension.” Fantastical,
as in adj.: conceived or appearing as if conceived
by an unrestrained imagination; odd and remarkable; bizarre; grotesque.
With an emphasis on the last two synonyms. And the “as if conceived by an
unrestrained imagination” part. Although, “odd and remarkable” more than hold
their own in the story I’m about to tell you.
I’ve waited a long time to tell our
story, Darren’s and mine. Not because it’s too painful or unbelievable (though
it is both of those things), but because it’s too important to tell wrong. If I
tell it right, you might help me. If I tell it wrong, They might kill me.
At the beginning of our story, I
didn’t know any better. I was just a 15-year-old girl with a bookworm’s head
and magic-lover’s heart. Somehow, I didn’t
get that when I really took the real red pill in real life, real shit would go
down. Somehow, my obscenely large mental collection of thriller movies and
well-written novels had failed to convince me that if I threw myself down the
rabbit hole, I would end up over my head in something I couldn’t control. I
guess on some level, I did know and did want that. But never in a million years
would I have dreamed anything could turn out so horrific.
~Stephanie
Monday, June 1, 2015
I've Been Reading
I've been able to start reading again.
"Read," is the advice always given to budding writers. Actual practice helps your writing improve too, but reading... It seems to train your mind to Hear and See the world with capital Hs and Ss.
When your car rushes through a rain puddle, the sound registers as "a lush hiss" instead of not registering at all. A dance recital audience reaction becomes "an appreciative rumble of laughter" instead of just "chuckling." You have conversations and naturally detect things like others' "clunky giddiness"or "apologetic authority."
To me, words give the world more substance. When I read a lot, I start to sense the depth in the molecules around me. It's not like the world is brighter; it's like I start to see new colors. Everything isn't more beautiful, but everything is more intentional, specific. I'm not sitting on my couch; I'm sitting on My Couch, where I had a kiss that tasted like ramen, where I first fell asleep on Gem, where I once cried a tear stain into the cushion.
When I immerse myself in words, everything feels more real. It's like tapping a secret source of energy.
I guess this makes sense, seeing as the entire world is Words. "In the beginning...the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep... And God said, 'Let there be light,' and there was light."
This entire world is literally words. There was nothing, and then God spoke, and from His words came the existence that I now try to describe with my own words, like "lush hiss" and "appreciative rumble." Is that redundant? To use words in an attempt to express/describe/create a reality that is already so perfectly linguistically expressed that it is actually tangible?
"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning."
Jesus is--maybe literally, maybe figuratively, maybe spiritually (which is probably some inexpressible middle ground there)--Words. God is Words. He made our world of words with His words. We are in this world, made in the image of God. We are spoken. We are words. The light is words; the water is words; the land is words; the day and night are words.
So yes, it makes sense that everything gets more beautiful and more real when I connect with words. Don't you understand the ocean better when you jump in?
Words are fun and powerful and persuasive and enduring and endearing and funny and piercing and beautiful and satisfying and frightening and dangerous. I like words, on principle, because I am a writer and a reader and I like to reason and persuade. But even deeper than that, I like words because I think they are cosmically important. When it all comes down to it, the world is just atoms and energy and space.
But when atoms and energy and space come down to it, they are all words.
~Stephanie
"Read," is the advice always given to budding writers. Actual practice helps your writing improve too, but reading... It seems to train your mind to Hear and See the world with capital Hs and Ss.
When your car rushes through a rain puddle, the sound registers as "a lush hiss" instead of not registering at all. A dance recital audience reaction becomes "an appreciative rumble of laughter" instead of just "chuckling." You have conversations and naturally detect things like others' "clunky giddiness"or "apologetic authority."
To me, words give the world more substance. When I read a lot, I start to sense the depth in the molecules around me. It's not like the world is brighter; it's like I start to see new colors. Everything isn't more beautiful, but everything is more intentional, specific. I'm not sitting on my couch; I'm sitting on My Couch, where I had a kiss that tasted like ramen, where I first fell asleep on Gem, where I once cried a tear stain into the cushion.
When I immerse myself in words, everything feels more real. It's like tapping a secret source of energy.
I guess this makes sense, seeing as the entire world is Words. "In the beginning...the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep... And God said, 'Let there be light,' and there was light."
This entire world is literally words. There was nothing, and then God spoke, and from His words came the existence that I now try to describe with my own words, like "lush hiss" and "appreciative rumble." Is that redundant? To use words in an attempt to express/describe/create a reality that is already so perfectly linguistically expressed that it is actually tangible?
"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning."
Jesus is--maybe literally, maybe figuratively, maybe spiritually (which is probably some inexpressible middle ground there)--Words. God is Words. He made our world of words with His words. We are in this world, made in the image of God. We are spoken. We are words. The light is words; the water is words; the land is words; the day and night are words.
So yes, it makes sense that everything gets more beautiful and more real when I connect with words. Don't you understand the ocean better when you jump in?
Words are fun and powerful and persuasive and enduring and endearing and funny and piercing and beautiful and satisfying and frightening and dangerous. I like words, on principle, because I am a writer and a reader and I like to reason and persuade. But even deeper than that, I like words because I think they are cosmically important. When it all comes down to it, the world is just atoms and energy and space.
But when atoms and energy and space come down to it, they are all words.
~Stephanie
Monday, March 23, 2015
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.
Monday, February 16, 2015
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 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)
~Stephanie
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
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
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
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
Saturday, November 29, 2014
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
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}
No More Wisdom Teeth
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
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 buys me books and reads Paradise Lost for me even though he's not an epic poetry fan.
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)