A Little Something About Me

Let me tell you something about me.

The end.

~Stephanie

Cynic

A lot of my friends are in romantic relationships lately. Some of them are new, and some of them are just continuing. It's weird.

It's weird because my friends and I have all been in the Single Boat as long as we've known each other, at least most of the time. Now some of them are leaving to board other boats, which range from the Level-Headed Cruise to the Head-Over-Heels Canoe to the Barge of Giggles.

The Single Boat isn't lonely, which might be what you were expecting me to say. For the most part, I don't mind. I mean, there are times when it bothers me not to have anyone, but on a day-to-day basis I'm perfectly fine with it. {Better single than sorry, right? XD}

No, the hardest part of watching my friends get into relationships is knowing how to deal with them now. There's always the classic third wheel issue, but my biggest problem is this:

I can be a real cynic. My knee-jerk reactions to relationship slobber are things you ought never say out loud, at least not right away.

"I love him!" ------> No, you don't.

"The good outweighs the bad." ------> If you have to say it like that, it's not true.

"We're gonna be together forever :)" ------> Really? I give it four months.

"I thank God for giving me such a perfect guy :)" ------> I thank God I'm not this dumb.

"I know ALL ABOUT relationships now." ------> Are you really that naive?

"He says he'll never do it again." ------> He's a liar.

I wasn't always like this, at least not to this degree, and I don't think it's the best way to be.

There is a balance between the mushy naivety I see in some of my friends and the cold-hearted cynicism I live by. Unfortunately, I have yet to move to that neighborhood of happy medium, probably because deep down I still think I'm right.

No, not every relationship is doomed to fail, but I actually believe most high school ones ARE. Yes, some people do find their soul mates in high school. My awesome dance teacher is walking proof of that. She and her husband have only ever dated each other, and they are a great and happily-married couple. But the reality is that that happens to less than 2% of high school sweethearts.

I believe high school relationships are mostly about getting over the initial dating ineptitude that plagues adolescence. They are about having fun and maybe learning how to kiss someone. They can be deep and meaningful, but even if they are does not mean it will last forever. The odds are very much NOT in young love's favor. {Hunger Games <3}

Because of all this, I prefer to think I'm just being realistic when it comes to teenage love. And maybe sometimes I am. But the knee-jerk cynical reactions to romance are not all well and good. Something needs to change in me. I guess I'll work on it, but honestly being cynical is easier than being hurt XD

For now I shall simply try to restrain myself from vomiting during chick-flick kissing scenes.

Hey, baby steps, alright?

~Stephanie

-cry-

Thanks for following, Perfectly Imperfect and Swati {can't find a link for you}! Hope you enjoy the world of Pandora :)

{A very odd post.}

-cry-

Some view tears as beautiful.

Some say tears bring peace.

Some call tears a weakness.

Some see tears as release.

Some people weep when happy.

Some people sob when sad.

Some peoples' tears are lonely.

Some people cry when mad.

Some people give in to tears a lot.

Some people seldom cry.

When and why for all is different, and

I've come to wonder why.

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

You know I'm a complete analytical nut and that I like to keep lists and records. Well, twenty-eleven was most definitely the "worst" for record-keeping, because I had a special notebook dedicated to recording a whole bunch of stuff throughout the year. One of the lists was of the times I cried and why.

Anger/Frustration: 6

Actual Sadness: 6

Sad Movie/Book: 4

Other {includes homesickness from Europe}: 4

Love-Related: 2

Nostalgia: 2

It works out that I cried 24 times in 2011. I cried the least number of times in May {1 time} and the most in August {5}.

However, the last time, to this day, that I cried was September 9th, 2011.

I'm not sure what to make of that. The obvious answer {which you are all shouting at the screen} is "NOTHING." It means NOTHING. It means that I haven't cried, and that's all it means. It's not a big deal, and if I hadn't been intentionally keeping track, I wouldn't even know.

You are probably correct. But the possibility of something meaning "NOTHING" has never stopped me from analyzing anything.

{Ever.}

Possibilities:

I haven't been sad since September 9th.

I've become completely heartless.

I've learned to control my emotions.

My tear glands have quietly self-destructed.

It is not Possibility 1, I can tell you that much. I've been sad and almost cried on several occasions since last September. {One of them may or may not have involved someone eating my last reindeer peep. It was a bad day, okay?}

I also don't think it's Possibility 2. I don't feel COMPLETELY heartless. A little bit, maybe. I'm definitely cynical and a little on the cold side. But I wouldn't classify myself as completely and totally without heart.

I think the most likely Possibility is number 3; I think I've learned to control my emotions a little better. Part of that reason is certainly because I don't want to cry about everything, but the bigger part is that I like to challenge myself. CAN I stop myself from crying? How long can I go?

{I've discovered that drinking water when you feel like you're about to cry helps immensely. The act of swallowing loosens that heinous wad of emotion that gets lodged in your throat. Just in case you want to become heartless too.}

I doubt my tear glands have self-destructed. I'd be using eye drops like nobody's business and definitely know if they had.

So I've stopped crying to see if I can and in the process become naturally less emotional? Most likely. But it never occurred to me until today that that might not be a good thing. Am I compartmentalizing dangerously? Will I soon explode into a shower of pent-up tears? What if I stop feeling things altogether?

I wasn't worried until something awful happened today and I felt like I should be crying. I almost WANTED to. But the little anti-tear monster I've created rose up and incinerated the feelings without my consent. I couldn't cry. I felt a faint prickling in my nose, but that was as far as it got.

It felt sort of awful. When you cry, even if you don't like to, there's usually a sense of relief and release that comes with it. It makes you feel freer and better able to breathe. But I didn't get that. I just felt the wind-up to crying and then it passed, leaving me feeling sort of indifferent.

Right now, I'm back to not caring. I wonder why I started this post and am contemplating deleting it. But, since I've spent the better part of 45 minutes analyzing and clacking away on the keyboard, I probably won't. I don't want to waste all my hard work.

I might make me cry XD

~Stephanie

The Boyfriend

No, I didn't get one. But that phrase irks me.

"Going to a movie with the boyfriend."

"Seeing the boyfriend today."

"Gonna chill later with the boyfriend."

The boyfriend? THE boyfriend? Oh, THAT one.

What?

Number one, it's a glaringly obvious fail to subtly brag about your relationship. If you put "the boyfriend" in your status, you're not trying to convey the fact that you are going to see a movie with Steven. You are screaming into a virtual bullhorn: "OMGGUYSIHAVEABOYFRIENDYEAHLOL." It seems insecure and obnoxious. Everyone knows what you're doing. You come across looking desperate to prove yourself instead of confident and glad to be having fun.

Second, it's demeaning. I get pissed off when guys say demeaning things about girls, and I am going to get pissed off when girls do the same things. He has a name, use it. He is more than just "the boyfriend." He's a person. He exists apart from being "the boyfriend." If you broke up with him, he would continue to be alive even without your title for him.

Thirdly, it's hypocritical. If a guy said, "Going to the girlfriend's house," she would be all over him in a New York minute. "What, I don't have a name? Are you ashamed of me? I'm more than just your girlfriend, you know. I'm a person. God, how dare you be such an insensitive creep." {And I'd agree, just as I'm agreeing the use of "the boyfriend" is wrong.}

Fourth, it sounds air-headed and Valley Girl-ish. I can't even think the phrase without my inner voice going, "th' boyFRAN *peace sign*." Ugh.

And lastly, it's kind of grammatically incorrect. There is more than one Boyfriend in the world. Your saying THE boyfriend isn't really specific enough. It's stupid and ought to be vague, but we all know you're tooting your own relationship horn, so it's not really.

I have a question. What's wrong with "MY boyfriend?" Somehow that changes everything for me. It sounds warm instead of aloof. It sounds friendly instead of bitchy. It sounds proud instead of arrogant. It's like you WANT him to be yours, instead of him being an object that you control and drag around.

The word "my" is so much more personal. It works with everything. If I told you I was going to walk the dog, you'd get the idea that I didn't want to, that the dog kind of annoyed me, or that it was really my sister's dog or something.

If I said, "I'm going to walk my dog," it sound as though you actually LIKE the dog. He's something that you enjoy and find special and want to take care of. The word "my" changes everything.

Did I just compare boys to dogs? >_> No. I did not.

So there are my thoughts on that popular phrase. Please don't use it. It annoys the flaming piss out of me.

Just throwing that out there for the followers ;)

~Stephanie

I Miss Europe.

I miss Spain.

I miss living with a Spanish family.

I miss Llucia.

I miss Consuela.

I miss Lica {the tiny dog}.

I miss the heat.

I miss not being allowed to put my hair in a ponytail when wet.

I miss not being allowed to go barefoot.

I miss eating Spanish pizza.

I miss siesta.

I miss Olexiy, the French boy who lived with us.

I miss not having a towel.

I miss sleeping on top of the covers.

I miss hearing Spanish everywhere.

I miss being able to speak English without anyone else understanding.

I miss Spanish thunderstorms.

I miss Spanish malls.

I miss Llucia's wonderful mother, Rosa.

I miss going to the park.

I miss vendors with their stuff on a sheet so they could take it and run in a moment.

I miss streets without lines.

I miss people who drive too fast and turn too quickly.

I miss weird intersections.

~~~~~~~~~~

I miss the other People to People people.

I miss Alicia putting up with me and making me feel like myself.

I miss hating John.

I miss Nalin looking beautiful all the time.

I miss Briar trying to beat people up for me.

I miss avoiding Michael.

I miss being disgusted by Matt and Tori.

I miss holding back Jackie's temper.

I miss Haley keeping me grounded.

I miss making fun of "the Barbies."

I miss Geno making me laugh.

I miss Emily being emo and cynical.

I miss Geno making Larry Boy faces.

I miss Torin cussing up a storm and our weird, close-distant relationship.

I miss Geno wanting to hold my Polly doll.

I miss Pedro's gelled hair and constant eating.

I miss Geno asking me to please wear my lion shirt.

I miss Kyle and Alexsis being adorable together.

I miss Adam's shoulder massages.

I miss David being a MASSIVE teddy bear.

I miss Leron's hilariousness and singing southern gospel on the bus.

I miss Alyssa being annoying.

I miss hating how Kelly talks out of the corner of her mouth.

I miss catching phrases from peoples' guidebooks.

I miss Drew being disorganized.

I miss Cindy being reliable.

I miss hating the way John pronounced "nutella" as "new-tella."

I miss Emma walking around being homesick.

I miss Sabine saying, "now, when we get back to dah HOE-tell..."

I miss Sabine's massive green eyes.

~~~~~~~~~

I miss France.

I miss pointy noses.

I miss being corrected when I speak.

I miss crystal and fancy smells.

I miss putting my bread on the table.

I miss nasty seltzer water.

I miss walking.

I miss climbing mountains.

I miss not knowing what to wear.

I miss the random weather.

I miss trying new food.

I miss feeling stressed over purchases.

I miss venders with delicious accents.

I miss trees growing from rocks.

I miss Via de Amore.

I miss blue, blue water.

I miss cheap expensive clothes.

I miss blue and white stripes.

~~~~~~~~~~

I miss Italy.

I miss green.

I miss exploring.

I miss music coming from tunnels.

I miss real pizza.

I miss foreign guys that scare me and intrigue me at the same time.

I miss tan, huge-eyed toddlers.

I miss Brother Alesandro.

I miss Assisi.

I miss the tiny cathedral inside a cathedral.

I miss Brother Alesandro's beautiful explanation of prayer.

I miss castles.

I miss parks and playgrounds.

I miss that tiny little phone booth.

I miss the leaning tower.

I miss the colosseum.

I miss gelato.

I miss Pedro stopping to get a panini at every restaurant.

I miss closing our curtains because boys were staring in.

I miss laughing from our balcony at boys calling "Baywatch!"

I miss people playing soccer in the street.

I miss pasta.

I miss Italian cola.

~~~~~~~~~~~

I miss the trip.

I miss getting ready and packing in 45 minutes exactly.

I miss eating breakfast with 39 other people.

I miss never being alone.

I miss hearing someone else breathing as I go to sleep.

I miss using each others' bathrooms when Alicia or I had a bathroom-hog roommate.

I miss Haley doing Alicia's hair in cornrows.

And dreadlocks.

And French braids in Italy.

I miss putting all our luggage in the elevators and sending it up alone.

I miss taking the stairs when the Barbies' luggage took too long.

I miss never wearing makeup.

I miss riding on the bus for hours.

I miss Momma's little notes.

I miss journaling until my hand seizes up.

I miss looking for presents.

I miss Haley calming me down.

I miss Alicia laughing whenever I was in a pissy mood.

I miss Jackie being my homesick buddy.

I miss Geno making me laugh, but never laughing at himself.

I miss Briar being fun, then obnoxious and me telling him so.

I miss falling asleep to the sounds of chaos down the hall.

I miss military time.

~~~~~~~~

I haven't been sick for Europe at all until just last night when all this came crashing down on me. Gosh, I miss it. I had an amazing time and I don't regret anything and I know I really seized every day.

But gosh, I miss it.

~Stephanie

The Library

Despite the fact that I LOVE to read and take pages and bindings and words generally very seriously, I had not been to the library for at least five years.

My family went every week from the time I was two until about ten, but then things got busy or whatever and we stopped going. I went a couple of times in sixth and seventh grade because my art teacher lived near one, but around eighth grade my library trips ceased.

Until a few weeks ago.

I knew there was a library near class. I had known all semester, but I wasn't completely sure where it was, and Cassidy and I are terrible with directions and usually on our way somewhere else. Stopping at the library never quite fit into the plan.

But one day after class, we pulled up to the intersection and I looked over at Cassidy.

"Would you like to go to the library?"

"What?"

"Turn off your signal; go straight."

"...okay."

We drove through the intersection and into essentially uncharted territory. I watched my surroundings like a hawk, praying that something would look familiar soon. Nothing especially did, but when we hit the second stoplight, I said, "Okay, turn right here."

By some miracle of God, the library was the first building on the right. It was meant to be.

"Oh cool," Cassidy said. "I didn't know this was here."

I sort of looked sheepish and got out of the car. "I didn't really either..."

She just raised her eyebrows at me and we went inside. {I do that to her a lot, BS my driving directions for her so she won't be stressed about getting somewhere. 90% of the time I am just as clueless as she is. But 70% of the time we get there anyway.}

We walked into the library and it felt like someone was pushing on my chest. The ceilings were high, the room was hushed and the air smelled like books.

"Oh my gosh," I breathed. "I haven't been in a library in so long."

Cass just kind of smiled and kept going.

I wandered around the whole place, devouring the place with my eyes. There were tables and couches and shelves and computers and windows and BOOKS. So many books. I kept repeating that to myself, So many books, So many books.

You forget just how many there are until you see a big display like that. I mean, I hadn't forgotten that there were thousands of books in the world, I just hadn't been so close to the idea in a while.

When I finally found my way to the young adult section, I was practically giddy, drunk on the prospect of so many words in so many different orders.

I sat down in the floor in front of a shelf shaped like an X lying on its back. Four spokes of bookshelf, each with a front and back, filled with books. So many books! I had read a lot of them, but there were even more I hadn't even heard of.

I spent the next half hour seeing every book on the X-shaped shelf. I read every title and touched the really enticing volumes with awed fingers. I smile fondly at old favorites, like they were secret allies in a mob of unfamiliar stories. I breathed in the strong, old scent of library books. I made tragic sounds at the dog-eared pages and broken spines.

Then I planted myself firmly at the first X spoke, took out my phone, and began seriously studying. I first judged titles; if a book caught my attention, I took it out. Then--yes--I judged the book by its cover. If it was a girl in a bikini, a poorly drawn swordswoman, or half the face of an opened-mouthed person, I put it back. If not, I read the back. If it still interested me, I typed the title into a text message and moved on.

An hour later, I stood up, eyes feeling gritty and brain feeling fuzzy. The world of light around me seemed strange, as it does when I've been reading for a long time. It's like my brain has to reprogram, reboot. I have to shift from translating words into a world and just take the world as it already is.

I found Cassidy and confirmed that she had had an equally {okay, close enough} fantastic experience. Then I referred to my phone list, selected a couple of books with her help, and we checked out.

I left the library feeling energized in a serene kind of way. Cassidy and I go every week after class now.

*sigh* I feel things too strongly XD But I really do love books a lot.

~Stephanie

Trying Different

Wow, thanks for following, Adelle {who blogs with the lovely Gabrielle}, normal.is.overrated {who will write for Miss Unlimited}, and knockedaskew {another Miss Unlimited writer}! I'm not sure what to say about this influx of followers, but thanks, everyone! I'm determined NOT to get too wrapped up in numbers, but I'm not gonna lie, it makes blogging more fun when I know people are "listening."

~~~~~~~

Every year, you make New Year's Resolutions. Sometimes they're all new; sometimes they're the same old goals you set year after year and never reach.

Or maybe you stopped making "Resolutions." Maybe you don't like to feel like a failure when you don't live up to your own expectations. Come to think of it, who does? I don't.

Every year, we promise ourselves to try harder. We'll get up earlier or put in more hours or trash talk ourselves louder. "This is the year," you think. "I'm gonna try harder than ever. I'm gonna try my hardest."

And how does that work for us?

My NWRs last year were

- stop cracking my knuckles

- finish a story

- conquer my problem {masochistic erotica}

- finish my math book

- get in shape

- never go on Omegle again

I did one and a half of those things. I got in shape, and I'm officially a year clean from erotica.

{I say I achieved one and a half and not two because I don't think the erotica issue is something I can exactly "conquer". I think I'll always struggle with it, at least some. But I do think I did well. Staying clean for a year was one of--if not THE--biggest thing I've ever done. It took so much prayer, willpower, and determination. I don't think I failed at achieving the resolution; I think I failed at making it. I shouldn't have made it a goal to "conquer" my problem; I should have resolved to do my utmost to stay clean for a year.}

Anyway, I achieved 1.5 of 6 resolutions, and I had made all of them but the Omegle one in years past. I guess I just haven't tried hard enough yet. Right?

I'm starting to doubt that statement. Let's look at it logically. Take the resolutions that I DID achieve. Why did I succeed?

In years past, I've relied solely on myself to get in shape. "I'll take up jogging," I told myself. "I'll do two hundred crunches every night. I won't eat junk food."

This year, I did something different. I joined a workout class with my mom. {That looks unbelievably lame when I type it out, but I promise you, this class kicks your ass.} The trainer is personal and persistent. I wasn't alone in my quest for fitness anymore; I got accountability. I tried something new.

I also went a whole year without reading masochistic crap online. How did I do that? To be honest, I feel like I can't take any credit for that all. I tried for years to contain my twisted side and failed over and over. I doubt that I got a sudden burst of unprecedented strength when 2011 hit. I give all the credit away, to God mostly, but also to other people.

God's presence, strong and faithful, kept me sane in 2011. When I felt like I couldn't stand up against the temptations, God was there standing up for me. Through others' prayers, he aided me and gave me hope and strength all year long.

My mom knew about my problem, but I didn't make her understand until the beginning of last year. She thought it was something I could just quit, cold turkey, like throwing away a ratty pair of jeans. I made her understand that THIS DOES NOT WORK LIKE THAT. By being a better communicator, I gained a stronger ally in my journey.

I also started this blog. I think the biggest mental block towards recovery was the loneliness and shame. By keeping my struggle hidden, there was no way I could ever have deep fellowship. By keeping my problem secret, there was no way I could ever gain acceptance. Pandora has helped me realize that IT'S OKAY TO BE MESSED UP. By sharing my darkest secret, even with just this small part of the world, I've been able to accept myself a little better.

And that is making all the difference in the world.

So what did my two successful resolutions have in common? One thing is OTHER PEOPLE. We're all lazy and lack self-discipline sometimes. You need accountability this year. Get others involved in what you want to accomplish, for moral support and a kick in the butt when you need it.

{And don't forget to be an ally for other people, too. The best way to have strong friends is to be one. Ask what you can do to help others this year.}

The second thing is DO SOMETHING DIFFERENT. Let's face it: I would never have started jogging or doing two hundred crunches every night or cutting out junk food entirely. Some people can pull those things off, but I certainly could not.

{A part of me is indignantly screeching "YES, YOU COULD HAVE, EVENTUALLY." Well, Screeching Part of Me, that was taking way too long.}

This year, don't try HARDER, try DIFFERENT. Get down to the root of your problems, like I've begun to do with my masochism. By uncovering the burning loneliness and raw shame, I've been able to get farther than ever on the road to recovery.

This year, dig down deep and do something different. {Lawl, alliteration.}

With that in mind, here are my Twenty-Twelve New Year's Resolutions:

1. Finish a story.

2. Stay erotica clean for another year.

3. Stop cracking my knuckles.

4. Try my best in school.

Good luck, and thanks for listening to me. It's making a lot of difference.

~Stephanie