I want you to know, but I don't.

First post of 2007. Hip hip hooray. Yeah. Anyway...jumping right in. No time for any reflective bullshit. I have a lot of stuff on my mind.

Today I went down to SLU to get my diploma. Besides the typical red tape that SLU requires you to fight through to get ANYTHING done, everything went fine, and was relatively hitchless. I walked out of Dubourg, diploma in hand. As I walked down Grand and to my car (which I somehow managed to parallel park on the side of the street), I expected to feel a wave of accomplishment and/or relief. I made it through 3.5 of the hardest years of my LIFE. I graduated from COLLEGE; that's something neither one of my parents, and few people in my family can say. I DID IT.

So...why didn't I feel anything? I didn't feel happy, or relieved, or accomplished, or anything. I felt nothing. I don’t know if I was expecting some sort of ridiculous fanfare, with streamers and balloons and such, but…I just felt so empty. Is that it? Is that what I worked 4 years for? All the sweat and tears and sleepless nights…for a piece of paper. The most expensive piece of paper I own to date, in fact. And I felt nothing.

I don’t know what point I’m trying to make here…or if I’m even trying to make a point. But I find it somehow fitting that my first big experience of 2007; my first big ACCOMPLISHMENT…was such a letdown. Is this how 2007 is going to be? No…no, Steph…be positive.

This past year…2006…has been so eventful. Everything in my life happened so fast, and I feel like I could barely keep up. I turned 21. I went to Vegas. I applied to dental school. I lost a really good friend. I bought my first new car. I royally fucked up with more than one (or two) guys. I did so many things I never thought I would do…good and bad. I’m not proud of some of the things that I did, but…I guess that’s life. So I suppose that brings me to the present. To right now.

What am I doing right now? Right now I’m just living. I'm just taking everything one day at a time, because that's the only way I know how to live, it seems like. Maybe that seems more positive than how I want it to sound. The truth is...life sucks for me right now. It completely, 100% SUCKS.

It really took a lot for me to say that...or type it...out loud. I'm well aware that this is a public journal. I'm also pretty well aware that no one (who I know, anyway) reads it. But, unlike my livejournal, there is a chance that someone could stumble across it. A small chance, but a chance anyway.

And if someone does read this journal? Well...for one, I'll be very embarrassed at my mediocre writing skills. I could do better. I could use fewer ellipses, fewer commas...I could use more complete sentences. I could have a clear beginning, middle, and end. But deeper than that, I'll be embarrassed and ashamed, because I actually admitted that something was not perfect in my life.

You see...I'm a VERY private person. I've always been this way. I don't like to share my feelings, I don't like to talk about myself, or my family, or anything about ME. As weird as this sounds, none of my friends know about my family. I mean, REALLY know. They all know that my parents have been divorced for a while, and that my mom remarried and my dad lives in Michigan. But beyond that? Nothing. I choose not to share those details. If something bad happens, I don't want to talk about it. When I didn't speak to my dad for a year, I didn't tell anyone about it. When my younger sister moved out of the house multiple times, I didn't talk about it. I don't want to talk about it. I still don't.

I like to pretend like my life is perfect. I like to smile and put on a happy face and only talk about the good things. I don't know why I'm this way, but I really am.

My point...what was my point?

Oh! What I'm sloppily working my way towards is this: I feel myself becoming isolated from the outside world. I can feel the walls being built up around me. I do it as slowly and quietly as I can. It's already started. It started a few weeks ago. I deleted everyone from my AIM buddy list. Then I deleted half my friends from Facebook. Then I deleted most of the information on my Facebook profile. Next i'll probably delete my Facebook profile. I deleted a lot of numbers out of my cell phone, too. I just...don't want to be around people. Or talk to anyone. I want to completely isolate myself from the world. I know that's not normal, yet it's a phase that I go through every couple of years. I feel like a caterpillar in a cocoon. I feel ugly, and unaccomplished, and unwanted; dirty. I don't feel like I'm good enough to be seen or heard from in the outside world. So I recede to my little cave, and I work on myself, inside and out...until I feel I'm good enough to be seen again.

Unaccomplished. I feel very unaccomplished. Yeah...I know. I graduated from college with my BA in Chemistry. Isn't that what I wanted? Wasn't that the goal?

Yet, I feel so ashamed and small. I haven't received an acceptance letter from dental school, and I'm pretty sure that I won't. I still don't know about grad school at this point. I don't know if I want to go. So that leaves me...with my Chemistry degree. I got a job offer at Mallinckrodt, and I start on the 22nd. But I still feel so stupid and unaccomplished. I don't know what I was expecting. I really don't.

I really don't want to publish this post. I really. The writing is sloppy, and my thoughts are jumbled. But it's the only way I'm going to get all of this out. Because although I'm feeling all of these emotions on the inside, they will never be vocalized. Not even to my good friends. Not even to my parents. I just can't weaken myself like that.

But at the same time, a little part of me won't let myself simply fade into the distance. There's a reason for everything. I don't just become a recluse for no reason. There's a reason for this. And I guess if anyone out there cares to read through this stupid entry, they'll see the reason why.

Or maybe they won't. In fact, I'm not sure sure I know why I'm behaving this way.

I want to know that everything will be alright.

I always stumble upon this journal at the weirdest times. Like today. I was randomly reading my LJ (which I've started updating regularly now), and I found the link to this journal. I started reading my entries from about 2 years ago (2 years...wow!), and I find that I tend to bitch a lot in this journal. There aren't many happy entries. I need to change that. There ARE happy times in my life...I just tend to not want to type when I'm that happy.

I tend to only blog when I need to express feelings that I can't necessarily show in public or even share with anyone. I was just thinking today, with the way things have been going with my so-called "friends"...I don't really have anyone that I can confide in anymore. It makes me a little sad, actually.

I don't know if I ever really did confide in people, though. Maybe halfway. Holly knew a little bit. Nicole knew a little more. But in neither person did I completely confide in. I trusted both of them, I just tend to want to give off the impression of being put together and...okay. I don't like to share the negative. I don't want to look weak or vulnerable. So if I am feeling weak and vulnerable and sad, then I post it in one of my journals. Sometimes it helps; other times, it makes me want to cry even more.

I was reading over my most recent entry...the one I made in April. Well...the number of guys I've kissed is now up to 13, but I still feel the same way. I still feel very much alone and like I'll never be in a relationship. It scares me. I know I'm still young (I'm 21 now), but what's going to happen if this is still the situation in 10 years? I know my time is running out. I WANT LOVE. I want to get married, and I want to have kids. I want a family.

You know the other reason I don't share my sad feelings with anyone? Because I feel like it's me being spoiled. I bought a new car yesterday. A 2006 Saturn Ion 3. I pick it up this afternoon. In the past 6 weeks, I've won $10,000 in the Pai Gow tournament. I'm graduating from college in December, and I'm on track with applying to Dental School.

Knowing all of this, I feel like I don't have a RIGHT to be unhappy. I've been told numerous times that I'm spoiled. With all that I have, shouldn't happiness follow? According to everyone else, the answer is yes. So who can I go to when I'm just not having a good day? No one. I'm spoiled, and I have everything material that anyone my age would want. I have NO reason to be unhappy, according to everyone else.

I think knowing that makes me even more unhappy. It's just so...weird. Maybe I DO have everything, but I don't have the one thing that I want SO bad: love. Does that make me spoiled? Isn't that the definition of spoiled? Having everything but wanting more? :(

I would gladly trade in the $5000 for a real boyfriend. In a fucking heartbeat. Money means nothing if you're not happy. If you feel like you have nothing to live for. I want life to be more than just going to work, making money, and eating. I want someone or someTHING to live for. It's just so fucking disheartening.

But maybe I'm just spoiled. Maybe everyone else is right. Maybe I SHOULD just "wait it out" on the love thing. Because it will come, right?

Right?

I want a lover I don't have to love.

I'm so sporadic with my blogs. I haven't posted to my Livejournal, Xanga, or even this in AGES. I just haven't felt motivated to write. I guess so much has been going on -- so much has been THROWN at me that I didn't even know WHAT to write. When everything is happening at once in your life, it's hard to prioritize; what's even important anymore? What is worth writing about...documenting to remember for the future?

Well, I was walking back to my room tonight from the BSC, and I felt a strong urge to update this. I need to.

Of course the topic of this is none other than love. My favorite thing to bitch and complain about. It's such a complex thing that I feel I could write for days on end about it. Everything about love just completely confuses me. Everything about MEN confuses me. I just don't understand it anymore.

I want love. I want love. I want love. I want it SO bad. I want to believe it exists. I really do. Broken sentences rock. Let me get my thoughts together...

...Okay. I want to believe love exists, but everything is telling me that it simply doesn't. As a Chemistry major, I should know that one proves something through experimentation; applying that to the whole love thing, I should have 100% proof that it DOES NOT exist (for me, at least). I've dated around. I've met some really great guys -- guys that I'd be willing to be in a relationship. I've had crushes and infatuations. But have I met someone that I could LOVE? I don't know. Nothing has ever gone that far. Ever. Disregard anything I've ever said about relationships and men. It's all been lies.

Yeah. I just called myself a liar. I've told people that I've been in relationships. I've lied about "boyfriends" of the past. I've implied that I've had sex. But...when it comes down to it, I'm the biggest fucking virgin you'll ever meet. I've NEVER had a boyfriend. I've NEVER had sex. I've never even come CLOSE. I've kissed 9 guys in my lifetime, but I've never had a boy hold my hand. I've never been out to dinner with a boy. I've never been on a real DATE. Out of the 9 guys that I've kissed, not a single one has met my mom. Or my dad. Or my sister. Or anyone else of any importance in my life.

Out of the 9 guys that I've kissed, not a single one has entertained the idea of getting into a relationship with me. I've always felt like nothing more than a "side project" or a playtoy. I'm someone's fucking experiment. I'M someone's EXPERIMENT.

So what am I to do? Should I just settle in this role? Should I simply accept the fact that there will be LUST in my life, but not LOVE? Should I just GET USED TO IT?

It's hard. It's HAAAAARD. I don't want to be alone. I hate the idea. It scares me. Is that what my life is going to be like? IS THIS IT?? Yeah, I'll be a dentist...that's my dream. I'll have my own practice, and my money, and my respect. But who will I be able to share this with? Will I always have to resort to going to clubs or bars or casinos to get attention from men? Is that how it's done? Because dressing in skanky outfits and fucking myself up with alcohol (Malibu pineapple, please!) seems to do the trick. Damn well. That's how I met Todd, right? And Ben? Wasn't I fucked up when I met Ben? And Colin? I think I was intoxicated and skanked out too during that makeout session. Who else...Justin? Atrice? The guy at the Halloween party? Chris? FUCKED UP. Each and every time.

Because quiet Stephanie doesn't do the trick. Quiet Stephanie sits in the corner and has a quiet conversation and gets no play. Sober Stephanie gets no fucking action or attention. Is that the reputation I want to have for myself? The drunk bitch that passes out and makes out with random motherfuckers? What the fuck else am I supposed to do?

The line between love and lust is so blurry to me. I'm just...so. frustrated. I am. I...I just don't know anymore. I have no clue. I HAVE NO CLUE. And writing all of this has just confused me even more.

I want to cry. I don't want to be alone. I don't want this. I hate it.

More than anything, I just want to know that love is real. I don't believe in it anymore. I just don't.

Days go by...and still I think of you...

So, I noticed a few days ago that it was almost the 1 year anniversary of this journal. Well…I guess now that time has finally come. It’s officially December 10th, 2005. Last year, when I was just a lowly sophomore, I created this little place on the internet for myself as a place to express my deeper feelings. The ones that I felt were too serious for even my Livejournal.

So here I am. It’s a year later, and I feel like I’ve been through so much. I feel ten times wiser. I’m more experienced in certain areas, and I’m not as naïve about certain issues. I was trying to think of a certain topic to focus this entry on, and nothing came to mind at first, but then I realized that perhaps I could take this time to explain (mostly to myself, perhaps?) why I have three online journals in the first place. I think an explanation is in order for each one. Maybe it goes deeper than I know.

I started my first online journal during my freshman year of college. I wanted to have something out there to document my experiences and thoughts on those experiences. I had heard some things about Livejournal (and I fiddled around with it during highschool a bit), so I decided to go with that. That one actually started off being public. I typed EVERYTHING in there…how I was feeling, what was going in my life, etc. It was great; it was LIBERATING. Never had I exposed my feelings to the world in such a way.

However, I soon realized, after a certain entry, that perhaps my journal was a little TOO accessible. I guess in my excitement, I didn’t realize that so many of my friends actually DID read my journal. I knew that it was public, and I knew that the link was plastered all over my AIM profile, but I guess I never expected anyone to ever pay it any attention. After that particular incident, I decided that it would be best to make that journal private. The only people that are allowed access to it are people that I don’t know well in real life…i.e. my “internet friends”. Those are really the only people I’m comfortable enough with to share my deepest events and feelings with. Everyone that I’m friends with has been mentioned at least once in my LJ…good AND bad things…and certain opinions that I have are better left private, you know?

Even though I have three journals, my livejournal is the most important to me. One day, perhaps when I graduate, I want to go through and print out all of my entries, and maybe put them in a binder or something. Just in case the website ever goes under or anything like that. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost all of those entries.

My next journal I just created a little over a week ago. My Xanga is my foray back into the more public side of online journals. I even have a link to it in my facebook. I definitely tread VERY lightly with this one, considering my past experiences with my LJ. I don’t tend to name names, and I keep my most personal thoughts and feelings out of this one. Too many people who I know personally have access to this, and I definitely don’t want to say the wrong thing, because anyone can read that journal.

The thing I like about my Xanga is that it tells a little about me without revealing TOO much. It’s more information than you would receive from just talking to me, yet it’s not as much information as my best friend knows, for example. It’s a happy medium that I’m well…happy with.

Finally, I guess that leaves this journal. My blogger. Coincidentally, I post the least in this journal. I feel like even though this journal is public, it’s technically private. I don’t advertise this one as much. You won’t hear me talk about my blog, because I don’t necessarily want anyone to read it. It is out here, though…so if someone really wanted to find it, they could. I feel like this journal is the best of both worlds. Here you’ll find my deep opinions, but I state them without the use of specific names to illustrate my point. Like I said in an earlier entry, I discuss the ISSUES behind certain people, not the people themselves. I don’t talk about my daily life in here, because I feel like it’s not relevant; rather, I focus on the big picture. I try to restrict this journal to my larger, grander ideas. I am most proud of this journal, actually. I enjoy reading the entries over and over again, because I feel like I completely capture the essence of what I’m feeling at that time.

In this journal, I don’t hold back, because I don’t feel like I have to. It would take a person who knows me extremely well to know precisely whom I’m discussing, and I like that sense of mystery that that brings. If you want to know the TRUE Stephanie, I feel like this journal is the best place to look. It’s as close as one would get without actually being CLOSE to me.

So…I haven’t decided if this is a worthy entry for my year anniversary, but who said it had to be something groundbreaking? It’s important to me. That matters the most.

A final note: I always write my entries as though I’m addressing them to someone…an audience, perhaps. However, I am fully under the impression that no one reads this journal. So…if you ARE by chance reading this, would you do me a favor and leave a comment? It can be anonymous, or you can add your name…the choice is up to you. I’ve just always been curious about who might be reading this. I think that’s just part of human nature.

With that note, I bid you adieu. Happy birthday, my beautiful blogger. It’s been a great year.

Is that what you call tact?

I think that's the same title I gave to one of my recent Livejournal entries. Who knows. I haven't updated that in a few weeks, either.

I'm trying to stay on a steady schedule of writing in this blog, but I tend to forget about it, which is why all of my entries are so spaced out. Maybe it's better that way. I only feel compelled to write in this particular journal when I feel like I have something worthwhile to say.

Which brings me to my subject. I was reading my past entries in this journal, as I like to do every once in a while, just to gain some perspective on how I've changed and grown as a person. It's the strangest thing, reading your thoughts from months ago. In a sense, I feel the same way about certain things: I'm still a hardcore virgin (although I will admit to some not-so-PG thoughts about Hugh Laurie, among other men who are probably way too old for me), I still think that I've grown up a lot this summer, etc. For the most part, I still agree with my year-old journal entries. However, there's one entry that I feel somewhat uncomfortable about, and that's my last one (the one right before this).

Reading over it, I felt somewhat embarrassed. I know that those were my thoughts at the time, but it doesn't stop me from feeling horrible about them. I know that I was in one of my bitter, holier-than-thou moods. I just know it. I really dislike that about myself. I dislike the fact that I felt that I had to dedicate an entire journal entry to the reasons why I'm not attracted to black men. I want to delete that entry SO BADLY, but...something inside won't let me. I know that I don't feel that way anymore, but I can't take back what I said, nor do I want to.

I don't know what to say about it besides the fact that I DON'T FEEL THAT WAY ANYMORE. Why am I trying to convince myself of that? What am I trying to prove? That I'm finally "black enough", because I *think* I might be attracted to black men now? What makes one BLACK? And why do I feel the need to prove to everyone else that I am?

...

I feel like there's much more that I need to say regarding that issue, but...I don't know exactly what I want to say, or how I want to say it. I'm getting that nagging feeling that I'm rambling...once again. So...next subject.

I mentioned in one of my earlier entries that I was going to leave specific names out of this journal, because...I feel that thats entirely irrelevant. I don't care to much to discuss certain PEOPLE; I'd rather discuss the issue behind the person. So with that...today I went out to lunch with a guy from school. I think anyone that attends my university probably know this person's name...for all the wrong reasons. Ipodgate is all I'm going to say. And I'll leave it at that. Draw your own conclusions. Anyway, he invited me to lunch (long story), so we went to Salsaritas. All in all, it was an okay time. I'm not interested in him in the slightest, but we had a somewhat decent conversation, so that's all I can ask for. Okay, so the issue at hand here:

Money. We were discussing what our plans were for after graduation. Of course, I plan on going to dental school. He's a finance/accounting major, so he intends on doing something in that field. Blahblahblahmajors. To make a long story short, he asked me where I planned on living once I graduated from dental school. "Chicago, Los Angeles...anywhere but St. Louis" was the gist of my answer. Being the oh-so-great conversationalist that I am (and the fact that I had nothing better to say), I returned the question. His answer? "Wherever the money is". I didn't care too much for the answer, but...whatever floats your boat.

So the conversation continues. Next question? "Why do you want to be a dentist?"

Answer: "It's something I've always wanted to do, I want to make people feel better about themselves, I've always had good experiences at the dentist, blah blah blah..."

My turn. "What made you interested in becoming a CFO?"

Answer: "I don't know...it's where the money's at."

Okay. That was kind of annoying. I'm going to say this right now: I'm NOT pursuing a career in dentistry for the money. I'm not on a mission to be rich. If dentists made $30,000 a year, I'd be FINE with that. Whatever it takes for me to live comfortably. With that said, I find it HIGHLY frustrating when people choose their majors or future careers based on the amount of money they think it will bring. It just shows a lot of immaturity, shallowness, and materialism. I hate the American obsession with money, and this example just goes to show how prevalent it is. My roommate and I had a similar conversation to this a few days ago. Guess why she wants to be a lawyer? *rolls eyes* It just makes me sad that there's no passion in anything anymore. Whatever happened to going into a career because it INTERESTS you? Because that's what you'd LOVE to do?

I just...hate materialistic people. I hate it when my roommate describes someone by how much money they have, or what kind of house they live in. I get downright ANGRY when person after person comments on the type of car I drive. It's a fucking CAR!! It gets me from point A to B, and if I could scratch off the damn letters on the back, I would. When I tell people that I want to be a dentist, their first comment is usually "Wow...they make good money!" I don't give a bakers FUCK how much money dentists make. When I had my internship at Mallinckrodt, I didn't ask the employees there what a typical salary for an analytical research chemist was. These things don't matter to me. I want to be happy, and if being a dentist is what's going to make me happy, I'm going to do it. If being a janitor is what's going to make me happy, then I'll do that. The money thing just isn't what motivates me. I HATE the moneymoneymoney mentality. I despise it with every ounce of my being.

What would make me happy? When I become a dentist, I want to live on an island where they pay you with coconuts. I want to trade in my Lexus for a Ford Focus (shut UP!). I want the person who cleans the floor of my office to make as much as I do. I want to give free dental care to those who really need it. I want to divide my check in half and give it to someone who will really need it. Someone who WASN'T as fortunate as I was. Why should I make an obscene amount of money for doing something that I LOVE? It's not about the money for me. I don't know how to stress it any further.

So there. That's me. Take it or leave it. I'm not in this for the money. I'm in it for the lives that I want to change. Fuck, I'm in it for myself, too, but in another way: I'm in it to make ME happy.

Let's end this call and end this conversation.

I was listening to Green Day's "Jesus of Suburbia" (great song) when I all of a sudden decided that it was time for another blog. I have to be in a certain mood to type in this one, I guess.

As the summer winds to a close and I prepare for my junior year at SLU, I can't help but think of how amazing this summer was. It was definitely one of the best summers of my life, ranking just below that first summer in California 7 years ago. I just don't think I could have asked for much more. I experienced so much, and I learned a LOT in this short time. Rather than try to squish everything into this paragraph, I'll make a list. That's my nature, I suppose. I like lists a lot. :) So yeah...everything is a learning experience, and this summer was no different:

1. I've learned what I like.

I believe that a big part of knowing yourself is knowing what you like and dislike. What turns you on, what turns you off...what you look for in the opposite sex, your friends, etc. etc. So on that note, I've discovered (or maybe just finally accepted) what my family has (begrudgingly) told me for YEARS: I'm attracted to white men. And...I'm not attracted to black men.

*gulp* It took me about 5 minutes to type out that last sentence. I kept typing it, then erasing it, then trying to find a "nicer" way to word it. "Maybe I'm attracted to SOME black guys," I tried telling myself. "Don't exclude ALL black men from that statement," My head was telling me. But...*gulps again* It's true. Sure...I think Tiger Woods is hot, Will Smith is sexy for NO reason at all, and I can't take my eyes away from Morris Chestnut. Heck, I run into gorgeous black men everyday. Every DAY. I'm not saying that I don't find black men attractive, or intriguing, or intelligent...it's just that I cannot, for the life of me, picture myself in a relationship with a black guy. I've tried. I really have. I feel guilty as HELL for feeling this way. I think that for a long time, I worked SO HARD at convincing myself that I was attracted to black men that I started to believe it. I wanted my family to believe me so badly when I told them "I'd never date a white boy"...but...dammit...no. I can't lie anymore. I guess the whole situation this summer is what changed my mind.

Elaborate? Of course I will. I'm a picky girl when it comes to who I will date. That would explain why I've always been single. It's not because there's a SHORTAGE of guys that approach me (and for a long time, I lied about that too...the whole 'guys don't like me' bit), it's because I'm picky as hell. If there IS a boy that I start to like, I'll immediately find something wrong with him, even if it's the most miniscule, insignificant thing. And then he'll be gone. Just like that. *snaps fingers* For a long long LONG time, I thought something was wrong with me. I didn't know why I was turning down all of these otherwise wonderful men because they haven't heard of Muse, or because they were a tiny bit shorter than me, or my favorite one: "We have TOO MUCH in common". Yeah. Those are all excuses I've used to talk myself out of dating various guys.

Why did I expect everyone else to be perfect, when I'm far from it myself? It didn't make any sense until this summer, when I finally dated a white guy. Was he perfect? No. Did we have EVERYTHING in common? No. Was he a vegetarian? Not at all. But for once...that didn't stop me from liking him...from giving him a fucking CHANCE.

So...to make a long story short, I dated a guy and didn't immediately try to distance myself from him. Moral of the story? Perhaps I'm the last one to figure it out, but YEAH...I LIKE WHITE BOYS. I'll take spiky hair, black rimmed glasses, and Hollister attire over baggy jeans and braids anyday. Colin Farrell over Morris Chestnut? Heck yeah. Jason Mraz over John Legend? You betcha. Does Justin Timberlake trump Usher? In his fucking SLEEP. I'd much rather hear you rock out on a guitar than make me a beat on your computer. Let's skip the soul food and go out for sushi. I like guys who wear pink. I love the accidental dorkiness that white boys tend to pull off so effortlessly. I enjoy soccer and listening to Beck, and yeah...I'd rather dance off beat with a guy I'm attracted to than be in a hot sweaty club with my ass in some black dude's crotch. So sue me. So maybe this paragraph is filled with stereotypes, assumptions, and bitterness galore. I'm making a point in my own little screwed up way.

When it comes down to it, I'm still Stephanie. I'm still the same chick who drinks a gallon of milk a week (2% ONLY, please!), loves to sing in the car, and giggles at the thought of whips and handcuffs. I love myself, and the fact that I love white boys too doesn't mean that I somehow "hate my skin color" or "wish I was white". I LOVE being a sista. I wouldn't change THAT for the world.

I was going to make a number two on the list, but I'm too tired of typing to make a meaningful point. And I've been typing this for almost an hour. So...I'm done for today. Perhaps a continuation will be in order for a later date. Until then...*gives a huge peace sign*

Oh, and P.S.: I'm not hating on soul food whatsoever. My grandma can THROW DOWN. ;)

Everything is a learning experience.

I feel like I almost forgot about this blog. It's so strange how I get into these deep, philosophical moods -- I feel like singing at the top of my lungs or writing a strange poem about life. Do you ever feel that way...like you have so much to share, but not enough time to get it all out? That's how I feel. I can't type fast enough to keep up with the multitude of thoughts that are spilling out of my head.

I think I chose to type in this journal tonight rather than my Livejournal because I feel...wise. I feel old tonight; I feel experienced. Tonight isn't a "everything is horrible, shoot me" or even a "I'm so happy I could burst" night where all of my emotions spill out in the form of half-sentences on my computer screen. Rather, it's a "let me slow down and THINK about what's going on in my life -- truly THINK, Stephanie...don't let the words spill out. Carefully consider each thought and feeling"-night. Does that make sense? Looking back...yes, it does. It makes perfect sense to me. No second guessing myself in this journal.

One thing I love about summer is the fact that there isn't much going on. And by "not much", I mean school. Of course there's work, and in the case of this summer, dentist shadowing. There's family time, and friends time and chill time at Barnes and Noble; there's all of those things, of course. But school is what consumes most of my time during the year. It's so emotionally and mentally taxing that in most cases, I don't have time to contemplate much else. Things are different during the summer. I have time to sit back, relax, and CHILL. And THINK. And FEEL. And LEARN. I know I've learned a lot this summer...and there's still a month left before I'm back on the grind.

What have I learned? Well, for one (and actually this will be the only -- If I were to thoroughly describe everything I learned this summer, not only would it be boring, it'd take up more space than I have energy for), I've learned that not everyone is around for the sole purpose of kissing my ass.

Let me explain. I think I have the absolute BEST friends in the world. I just do. They have always been there for me, always there to listen and hang out...blah blah blah. You know the deal.

I'm trying so hard here to adequately desribe the thoughts that I'm feeling, and I'm having a really hard time trying to put it in words, so I'm going to be blunt: I love my friends so much because they put up with my shit. I can be the bitchiest, moodiest, weirdest, cracked-out girl OUT there. Catch me on a good day? I will make you laugh. I will be the best listener. I will cheer you up. I'll help you with your homework. I'll drive you halfway across the state of Missouri to take your sick dog to the vet. I will dance and sing and act SILLY. I will do absolutely ANYTHING for you. Name it.

Catch me on a not-so-good day? I'll be moody. I will not hesitate to bitch you out. I will cry and ask to be left alone. I won't want to talk. I won't answer the phone. I'll flake out on our plans. I'll lie to your FACE.

This, my friends, is why blogging is so difficult for me. Why sharing things about myself is so freaking HARD. No one likes to share the negative things about themselves; it's nice to think that you're the perfect person. It's easier. Totally showing your ass VOLUNTARILY? It's a lot harder, no? But I digress...

My friends put up with my shit. Truth be told, I DON'T consider myself a good friend. I say a little prayer to myself everyday, thanking God for blessing me with such caring friends. A lot of the time, I think I don't deserve it. "I'm such a bitch," I say to myself. "Why do people want to hang out with me?" I test the waters a lot of the time. Yeah...I just said it. I test my friends. I'll see how far they will go for me -- how much they'll put up with. Not a single one of my friends has faltered in their support for me. It amazes me, really. I just don't understand a lot of the time. I really, truly, don't.

So anyway, this brings me to the core of this entry: the boy. The boy, much like everyone else in this journal, shall go nameless; those who know me know exactly who the boy is, and those who don't don't need to know. The specifics of where and when we met is irrelevant; I'll skip to the juicy (or not-so-juicy, depending on your viewpoint) part: He dumped my ass. Point blank. No creme filling, no sugary coating, no Cheesecake-Factory-Style-REAL-whipped-cream topping. I'm keeping it real. HE dumped ME because I, Stephanie, was a complete and total BITCH to him.

I think he liked me at one point. I'm almost sure of it. He called me everyday, we talked a LOT, we went on upwards of seven dates. "It" was there. And "it" scared the living daylights out of me. I went psycho. "A GUY...being interested in ME? I MUST do everything in my power to scare him away! This cannot be real!" And so I did. I, Stupid Stephanie, did the "I'm-going-to-test-how-much-you-really-like-me-by-being-a-complete-bitch-except-I-still-want-you-to-be-interested-in-me-after-this-is-all-over" test. Did it backfire? Yes. He did exactly what any self-respecting guy would have done in that situation -- completely cut off all ties with me. Am I surprised? Yes. Should I be? Probably not.

I'm surprised, because like I said earlier -- I'm used to my friends taking my shit. I'm used to fucking up and them still loving me in the end. I'm so completey spoiled by it. And for the boy to NOT come running back to me? It totally threw me off guard. This time, I'm afraid, I won't be able to patch things over. Is what I did absolutely horrendous? Not by ANY means. But...it just goes to show that not everyone out there is willing to put up with me. And that's a gigantic pill to swallow.

So, with that all said...I learned a lesson. I'm going to try my hardest to change, especially next time, when it involves a guy I'm truly interested in. I'm just so completely hurt that it worked out this way. Is this event worthy of being added to my "regret" list (of which there is only one thing listed, mind you)? I don't know. I won't know for a while. Part of me still thinks that he'll come around...that he'll call me. However, the larger part of me is silently letting it go. She's quietly deleting the number from her phone, slowly pushing out the memory of him, and forgetting how sweet and gentle and CARING he was. She's closing her eyes and trying not to feel his soft lips pressed against hers, or the way he smelled when he pulled her close. She's erasing the memory of the night he cooked her dinner -- the vegetarian meal that he probably didn't want to eat himself, but did, because he knew it would make her happy. Finally, she'll relinquish the immense happiness that she felt during that moment when he grabbed her hand and held it tight and she felt that maybe, just maybe...she COULD believe in that stupid little thing called LOVE. Yep...she'll forget all about it. She'll disregard EVERYTHING that happened during that stupid little summer of 2005, because...because now...it's nothing but some words on a screen. It means nothing to her anymore. Absolutely NOTHING.

And by NOTHING, I really mean EVERYTHING.