This Made Me Giggle

HAH!

Prepare for my return, folks! It's going to be one hell of a ride!

Peace.

Stef.

But It's Too Early for a Life Crisis!!

I'm 25 years old.

I've got all the time in the world to grow up, to be an adult, to be responsible and clean my bathroom like I should.

I've got all the time in the world to meet my future husband, buy a house, and have 2.5 kids and a dog.

I've got all the time in the world to move up the corporate ladder and bring in the big bucks.

I've got a load of time, right?

If that's true, then why did I nearly pass out from panic when a friend mentioned to me (in no way meaning to upset me) that I would be 30 in 5 years?

Seriously, guys. I about lost my shit.

Exercise # 189 - Up & Down

Describe the ceiling and describe the floor in:
  - the room where you are right now
- the last library you were in
- your childhood bedroom
- your last elementary school classroom
- a magnificent palace
- a wigwam
- a very peculiar wigwam constructed by a New York City-based artist

Oh, gosh, folks... A couple of these require me to rely on my memory. This is not a good thing.

BUT!

The great thing about writing is that, if you can't remember, you can just make crap up. Success!!

1,2,3, GO!

The Women Who Stay

I have a hypothetical situation to run by you. Feel free to chime in on any thoughts you may or may not have.

(Hint: hypothetical = totally, absolutely happened in real life, so get ready for sparks to start flying)

Let's say you're a female who has been in a long-term relationship with a man who, as far as you know, is a wonderful guy. He's attentive, kind, and caring, and he does everything in his power to make you happy. Maybe you even have kids with him. Maybe you don't. It doesn't really matter in this story.

Let us just suppose that all of this is true.

It's a beautiful day, the sun is shining, and you are in a mood that can only be rivaled by someone who has just won the Stanley Cup.

You're on your way home from work - early, I might add, making this day even better - when you think to yourself, Self, you should make dinner tonight for Sweetie Pie. He'll really appreciate it after all of the long hours he has been pulling lately.

So you do. You go to Kroger (or The Food Emporium, Publix, Harris Teeter, etc...) and start planning the most epic meal that your mind has ever had the ability to conjure. After quite some time at the grocery store, you finally gather all of the necessary items and survey the food. It's a rather impressive spread, and you can't help but smile at the plastic bags, knowing that Sweetie Pie is going to take one look at the dinner table and break into endearing sobs of appreciation when he gets home.

You can barely contain your excitement as you turn onto your street. Your roof looms in the distance, and as you get nearer...

Well, crap.

He's home.

...

Wait, why is he home?

Exercise #188 - "Ten Years Younger Than Yourself"

What do you think people born ten years after yourself are not generally aware of, but should be? Be specific.

I feel that, as a 24(soon-to-be-25)-year old, I don't really have a leg to stand on when it comes to preaching to people younger than me. I am the first to admit that I am immature and fickle when it comes to grown-up viewpoints and activities, so this is out of my element. 

Forgive the triteness that is to follow. I'm doing my best...

1,2,3, GO!

Beyonce Just Isn't My Thing

I know. I should be shot, right? Because apparently everyone loves her.

Honestly, I don't get it.

Yes, she's hot and has a bangin', feminine body.
Yes, she has a voice.
Yes, she's fierce.

But she just doesn't do it for me...

until now.

Her new song, "1+1" is awesome and has been on repeat on my iPod for the last 24 hours. LOVE it.

Now, I'm not normally a "Hey, go look at this video" sort of blog poster, but I really like what they did with this song. It's simple - all about the lighting - and cuts right to the meaning of the song. So... watch it.






I'd type more, but I'm currently handicapped with a severely cut finger. I have a giant BandAid on it (2, actually, to keep it protected), but it's making it increasingly difficult to type.

That being said, more writing exercises will be up soon! Yay!

Peace.
Stef.

My Italian Summation

As you know, I took a country-wide, whirlwind tour of Italy in the month of May, and I took my new Canon Rebel Xs with me. Granted, my lenses were low-end, kit lenses, but that fact didn't stop me from snapping picture after picture as if my life depended on it. I'm pretty sure I saw most of the trip through the lens of my camera (who has now been named Elisabetta after our lovely tour guide), and I did my best to capture as much of it as I could.

I've given myself some time to let the fact that I walked where the freaking gladiators walked sink into my thick skull, and I think it is now time to break out the pictures that I took.

Just as a warning, get ready for a wall heavy laden with photos.

Parking Ticket Debacle Update & Exercise #187

If you want to catch up on the Parking Ticket Fiasco, go HERE.

That being said, there's not much on which I can update you. I wrote an expertly-written and politely worded letter to the Davidson County Traffic Warrant Division and dropped it off with one of the oh-so-happy-to-be-at-work front desk ladies. In that letter, I simply requested that they remove the fines from both parking tickets and void the 2nd ticket altogether and stated that I had no issue with paying the first $10 ticket. I have yet to hear back from them, but hopefully in the next little while I'll get a letter apologizing profusely for their grievous error, dried tears smudging some of the words because they were so overwrought as they printed out their response.

But I'll settle for a terse, "Fine. You don't have to pay it."

We shall see, my friends. Oh, we shall see...

But enough of that. It's time for today's writing exercise!

I present to you...  

Exercise #187: Off the Cliff

Describe an elegant hotel room from the point of view of a character who is having a psychotic breakdown.

1,2, 3........ Wait... Didn't I just do this?

Ok. I guess it is different. This person is in the throes of a psychotic breakdown whereas the other person from the previous exercise was heading towards having one. C.M. Mayo, thou art a crafty wench, and for that I respect and admire you.

It has been a while since I did exercise #185, but I had originally planned on treating this exercise as an extension of that one. I think I'm going to stick with that. I liked where the story was going, and I wanted to see where my character ends up.

So here we go!

1,2,3, GO!

Guess what??

I moved!

For the last few months, I have been living with my parents. I know. Way to be an adult, Stefers. My parents were nothing but accommodating, though, and actually catered to my needs during my stay. Sure, there were rough spots, but we worked through them.

MomLady and Pop, you guys are awesome, and I owe you more than I can possibly ever pay you back. It takes a lot of love and dedication to put up with my crap, and your efforts most assuredly do not go unnoticed.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

Now that the gushy stuff is over, I can continue.

Like I said, I moved a little while ago, and it has taken a while to get my life set up again. Things aren't exactly 100% yet, but they're well on their way.

For example, this evening I installed a shower head - get this - all. by. my. onesies.

Yes, my friends, I am a home making genius. Bow to my prowess. I used a tool and everything (don't ask me what the name of the tool is... that's pushing it, bud)!

I've Had My Say, and That's That

After reading all of your comments and taking into account my friendship with the girl about which I wrote in a post I published 2 posts ago, I sat her down and talked to her.

We got together for a nice lunch at one of my favorite cafes, and I let her know how I was feeling.

"I'm just going to come out and say it: I'm worried for you," I said, forcing myself to look into her eyes.

She squinted her eyes and tilted her head to the side in her normal, good-humored way. "Worried?" The apprehension behind her eyes betrayed her relaxed demeanor.

"Yeah. Worried."

"Why?" She knew what I was going to say; that much I could tell.

"Please don't take this the wrong way..." I trailed off, my focus was for crap, and my eye contact broke to my hands.

"Ok, Stef, you're freaking me out. Just say it, ok?"