Most Despicable Acts Ever--Book and Movie Edition

Gracias to Lauren for following! Hope you like Pandora XD

So, after I made my lovely list of Female Romantic Interests I Like/Don't Like, I felt like making more movie/book-related lists. So, for some unknown reason, I created the following, highly sophisticated list:

The Most Despicable Acts Ever, book-and-movie edition { WARNING: potentially spoiler-esque, but not intensely so}:

1. Running away from the final blow--on your hands and knees. {Troy}

2. Massacring a guy by surprise. {The Godfather}

3. Betraying/forsaking your friends for money. {Newsies}

4. Manipulating everyone by guilt-tripping and batting your eyelashes. {Eclipse}

5. Making your guy lose his honor, pride and position to "prove" his love for you. {A Knight's Tale}

6. Deciding you're in love with a guy because he turns you on. {The Forest of Hands and Teeth}

True to my normal overly-analytical ways, I then tried to figure out what this says about me as a person. Is there a common theme in this list? What is it that really GETS me?

I decided the recurring issue is Honor. I was already fully aware of my fiercely strong opinion on honor. {It comes with being southern, I kid you not. You can steal my stuff, but you do NOT insult my momma, my honor or my land. End of story.}

The first Despicable Thing, crawling away from a final blow actually got me on my feet during the movie. I literally jumped up off the couch with an enraged gasp of disbelief. That's not how it works, buddy. You signed up for it, now TAKE IT LIKE A MAN. There is no other option. {Except I guess there was. Wuss.}

The second DT, the massacre is just absolutely sick, not to mention dishonorable. Shooting a guy til he's riddled like swiss cheese out of the blue when he's {SPOILER} on his way to kick his abusive brother-in-law's ass is just WRONG, I tell you, WRONG. URGHHHH. *grits teeth* It gets me.

DT number three {lawl, rhyme...} betraying/forsaking your friends for money doesn't directly have anything to do with honor. It has to do with LOYALTY, which is a FACET of honor. {I clearly need to do a post on honor. I think I will. Stay tuned.} Loyalty is important, and when you don't have it, you suck.

Ah, the famous guilt-tripping and batting lashes trick by Bella Swan {DT #4}. Again, nothing to do with honor, but doesn't it just make you wanna vomit? Or punch a wall? {Or a werewolf.} It's absolutely disgusting, despicable. I HATE girls who do this. If you seriously do not have a better method of persuasion than bringing up past "wrongs," you do not deserve a favor. Get a life. Get some logic. Grr.

#5, making your guy lose his *ahem* HONOR to prove his love for you. This pisses me off. I mean, yeah, it might prove that he loves you, I get that. But personally, my guy's honor is directly tied to mine, and if *I* really love him, I'm not gonna ask him to fail at something. It's just...somehow wrong.

And the sixth and final Despicable Thing, deciding you love a guy because he turns you on. {In my opinion, the whole book "Forest of Hands and Teeth" had virtually NO REDEEMING QUALITIES and this little gem only made it worse.} Hopefully I don't have to explain this one to you. Love and lust are way not synonymous, and this Mary chick doesn't even seem to know that. She genuinely thinks she loves this guy because she laid on top of him one time {long story} and was like "Ohmigawd. I feel funny."

And that concludes my rant on despicable book-and-movie moments. What are some moments that made you cringe? Do you notice any recurring themes?

~Stephanie

Character-Sexist

I think I really might be. But not against guys. Against girls. And if you know me, you know that's completely counter to my personality.

I, as a girl, can do anything. And if you tell me I can't, I will glare at you and defend myself with cold logic and prove you wrong.

But.

I hate girl characters. Books, movies, life. I just do not. like. girls. I never have. In fact, if you're my Functioning Best Friend, Cassidy, you have to sit through movies with me and listen to my gripe under my breath about what a stupid, weak, idiotic ninny every female romantic interest is.

The other day I had a lot "free time" on my hands {meaning I didn't want to be doing what I actually needed to be doing}. I decided to make a list, just to see if my suspicion was correct. I made two lists and called them "Female Characters I Like" and "Female Characters I Do Not Like."

The lists came out disappointingly close actually, with me liking 22 and hating 28. I sat on the couch and puzzled over what that was. I knew for a FACT that WAY more often than not, during kissing scenes I have to hide my fact in absolute disgust and abhorrence. So why did my lists come out so close?

Then I figured it out: I did dislike more female characters than I like, yes. BUT. The REAL difference appears when the girls are the love interest for the guys.

So I made two new lists entitled "Female Romantic Interests I Like" and "Female Romantic Interests I Don't Like."

Notes:

1) To qualify as a "Female Romantic Interest," the girl must not be the main character. I counted only the girls who played opposite male MCs.

2) If I didn't have a strong opinion one way or another, I didn't put the character on either list. The lists were for my strong opinions only.

I am now, as you've probably already guessed going to show you the two lists.

Female Romantic Interests I Like

1. Sarah {I Am Number Four}

2. Lois Lane {Justice League}

3. Hermione {Harry Potter}

4. Mistique {X-Men: First Class}

5. Marie {The Bourne Movies}

Female Romantic Interests I Don't Like:

1. Arwen {Lord of the Rings}

2. Nasuada {Eragon}

3. Arya {Eragon}

4. Sarah {Newsies}

5. Padme Amidala {Star Wars}

6. Jocelyn {A Knight's Tale}

7. Anabeth {The Lightning Thief}

8. Irene Adler {Sherlock Holmes}

9. Elizabeth Swan {Pirates of the Carribean}

10. Isabel {Ocean's 12}

11. Sally {Cars}

12. Prudy {Support Your Local Sherif}

*clears throat somewhat awkwardly* My suspicions were strongly confirmed. I do not like the girls who fall in love with the main guys.

I'm still not EXACTLY sure why, but I think it has something to do with their two-dimensional personalities. The girls aren't complex enough to be interesting or real. Either they're mousy and despicable {Sarah} or too badass and hard to be realistic {Arya, Anabeth, Adler, Elizabeth}. Can't we find some middle ground, people? Not all girls are either huddled in a corner or cussing up a storm cutting out some guy's spleen with her jeweled dagger. Some of us possess an APPROPRIATE combination of self-preservation and attitude.

And then there are the girls I just find stupid and annoying {Padme, Jocelyn, Prudy.}

And then there are the girls that I just freakin' don't like and I don't know why {Arwen, Nasuada, Sally}. I just don't know. But I do not like them.

What about you? Are you character-sexist?

~Stephanie

Kid Questions

{I considered spelling "questions" with a K for alliterations sake, but it looked really stupid. So yeah. It's the thought that counts, right?}

When I was about three, I wanted to know lots of things. Most of my questions had pretty easy answers:

"Why did God make spiders?" To keep the other insects from growing too numerous.

"Where do trees come from?" They grow from seeds.

"Do you love me?" Of course.

But then there were the questions that made my dad look at me and say, "That's a really good question."

"Did Adam and Eve have bellybuttons?"

"What is fire made of?"

"Do dogs have allergies?"

And then there was The Question that my parents just couldn't get at all:

"How many places are there?"

When you're three, it seems like an extremely simple question. However, my parents couldn't get me to clarify what I meant.

"Do you mean how many countries?" Daddy asked.

"No," I said, staring at him. "Places. How many places are there in the world?"

"We don't know what you mean," Momma said. "Do you mean how many cities, or continents, or countries? You have to be more specific."

"How many PLACES ARE THERE?" I was getting a little frustrated at this point. "How many PLACES IN THE WORLD!"

Needless to say, we never got much farther on that subject, but it really bugged me for a while.

Of course fourteen years later I had forgotten all about it--until my dad brought it up at the dinner table today.

"Do you remember asking that?" he said, grinning. "'How many places are there?!' I'm gonna laugh when your kids ask you the same thing.

"Yeah," I laughed. "But we have Google now. I'll actually find out."

My mom was incredulous. "Right, go ask Google 'how many places are there.'"

"You'd have to be more specific," my dad said thoughtfully, triggering childhood deja vu.

"But you really could figure that out," I said, frowning. "What I meant was, like, this chair is a place. Outside in the yard, that's a place. The neighbor's yard is another place. Like, a four-foot area that you're standing in. That's a PLACE."

"Oh," Daddy said, getting excited in his we're-on-the-verge-of-a-tiny-breakthrough way. "Oh, okay! Well, see, we didn't know what you meant when you were little."

"I know," I said. "I remember that, and I still know exactly what I meant. I can just explain it better now. And I bet we could really find out."

We all kind of looked at each other.

I ran to get a laptop.

Conclusion:

According to CIA World Fact Book, there are 148.94 million square kilometers of land on earth.

If you consider a "place" to be about a 2-ft squared area, you have to convert that to kilometers, which is kind of a pain in the butt. But it's 0.0006096.

Then you have to divide 148.94 million square kilometers by 0.0006096 kilometers, and you get...

244,324,146,982!

There are two hundred forty-four billion three hundred twenty-four million one hundred forty-six thousand nine hundred eighty-two "places" in the world!

Wow. That is a load off my mind.

My three-year-old self can now rest in peace.

~Stephanie

Dear You...

So, Sweet Pea tagged me the other day with this really fascinating new tag:

Write a letter beginning with "dear you" and only using pronouns. Then tag people.

Dear you,



This letter already sounds funny to me because who else could I be writing to? I mean, if you're reading it, I'm obviously addressing you... Anyway.



How's life? Where are you? Are you in college? You'd better be. We better still share principles and standards and dreams and such. If you aren't in college, there had better be a damn good reason.



Assuming that you are, what are you majoring in? {I love how the first thing I ask you about is school...we're so sad sometimes.} I'm going to guess philosophy is in there somewhere...or maybe not. I've heard you either LOVE it or HATE it, so it could have gone either way for you. Maybe you're taking a lot of English, considering the whole writer thing. Or even history, because frankly that got a lot more fascinating the last couple of years of high school. Tell me poli-sci still the in the picture. It has to be. Even if you never become a lawyer, it's so right up your alley. Take it.



Anyway, enough about school. Have you, you know, met anyone special? I pretty much kind of, like, really super sort of totally hope you have. Because I'm a little bit worried about you. But just a little bit, really. I mean, high standards are GOOD {and I don't want you lowering them}, but at the same time, you have a pretty narrow definition of an acceptable guy. Don't get me wrong, I like the definition a lot, I'm just worried about you actually finding someone to fill it.



Sorry, I'm depressing you. OR maybe I'm making you laugh! Maybe you've found an amazing guy who's smart and witty and good-looking and hilarious and good at arguing and a Christian and everything. Maybe right now you're rolling your eyes at me for being so worry about you. I hope you are. I really hope you are.



Let's see, what shall I ask you abut now that the basics {school and boys} are covered? Writing? How's that going? Please keep it up. Remember how many people tell me that I have a gift? Well, I'm starting to give a little bit of credence to that, like maybe you need to use writing seriously in your life. Don't forget that. Just because I'm younger doesn't mean I don't know what I'm talking about--and so does everyone else. WRITE.



And don't lose touch with your friends, okay? I know you have trouble with letting people go, and sometimes you just cut them off completely when you feel them slipping. Try to find a happy medium there, if you haven't already. There's a place between clinging tragically to your old friendships and completely burning the bridges. My friends are important to me, and I insist that you treat them with respect. Remember how close I am to them?



Last, don't lose sight of the man upstairs. Considering I can't use his proper-noun-name, I'm going to assume you're still bright enough to figure that one out. Remember how he watched over me when I was across the pond? That was huge. He has even bigger plans for you than I do, or even you have for yourself, and his are infinitely better. Like, literally. So listen, think, act, all that good stuff. Es muy importante.



So yeah. I guess that's it. Read, write, keep up with your love of metalcore and languages, notice your elf ears, be smart about tattoos, and read labels for peanuts.



Yep. That about does it.



In case you were wondering, this letter is from me to 20-year-old Stephanie, just three short years from now. Um, yikes.



Let's see...Jay, Philosophia, Psycho Babbling Basher? You wanna have a go at this?



~Stephanie

Benadryl

I want to start off this post by saying that I have never actually been high.



That being said, I am now going to talk about Benadryl.



Lols. "Benadryl...Benadryl...BIN-uh-drill..."



On it's label, Benadryl admits to the possibility of experiencing drowsiness while taking it. What it doesn't tell you is that in some cases, the drug can cause you to enter a reality where everything happens a full 3 seconds after it does in the real world. It also does not tell you that the world might tilt out from under you or that you might not remember a few hours of your afternoon.



I dunno. Maybe it's just me.



I've taken Benadryl when necessary my whole life, but as I've gotten older the effects have gotten worse. If my allergies get bad enough to take Benadryl, they must be REALLY, REALLY BAD, because once the tiny pink and white pill is in my system, I will be incapacitated within 20 minutes.



See, it's especially bad for me because I'm normally a rather quick person. I get puns, react to the phone ringing, block punches etc. pretty fast. When I'm on Benadryl, it cuts my brain function down about 80%. I am forced to retain, process and react with 20% of my brain juices flowing. For me, it's kind of frustrating, if I have my wits about me enough to be frustrated. For everyone around me, it's pretty freakin' hilarious.



It is also the time to have me divulge any deep dark secret you've always wanted to know. {I really wish I were kidding, guys.}



For me, the weirdest part of the Benadryl experience is when you feel it start to kick in. I remember one time when I was writing "The Mirror." The words were coming alright, and I was getting some decent thoughts down, when suddenly it started to feel like I was struggling through Chinese with a cotton-insulated brain.



I frowned at the screen, squinting my eyes, and analyzed each letter one by one. I carefully formed each of them into a word, and then each word into a sentence, but by the time I understood the sentence, I couldn't remember why I was reading it. Trying to put down a coherent thought to go WITH the sentence was a straight shot past impossible.



Then there was one time at small group when I was about twelve. It was my parents small group at Mrs. Suzanne's house, and she has cats, which I'm allergic to. I took some good ol' Benadryl, and twenty minutes later I tried to walk through the living room. The world literally looked tilted on its side, so much so that I actually cocked my head, trying to see straight. Then this bench kind of floated up to my hands and I was leaning on it. My mom asked me if I was okay, but she sounded like she was at the end of a tunnel. Three seconds later I looked at her, kind of trying to be sure I knew who she was, and nodded.



The last time I took Benadryl was on my sixteenth birthday. The power was out at my house, so my family and I {and Sam} headed to a friend's house so we could watch the Super Bowl. She has cats. Which I'm still allergic to. So after a couple of hours, I started to feel really awful and gave in to the pink and white pill. 20 minutes later...I didn't know which way was up. We were all in the guest bedroom, watching a movie, but nothing was registering whatsoever. To be honest, I'm not exactly sure what all happened. I also don't remember what I said to Sam on the way home, but I remember lots of laughing and confusion.



Needless to say, Benadryl screws with my miiiiind.



What about you?



~Stephanie

Nick Names

Welcome, Anonymous Ann, and thanks for following :D Hope you enjoy Pandora!

I love nicknames, which makes sense because I'm obsessed with names in general. When I was little I especially liked long names because you could get so many nicknames out of them. I would sit in my room and write down different names and create outrageously far-fetched nicknames to go with them.



Elizabeth: Eliza, Beth, Liz, Lizzy, Lizbeth, Betsy, Betty, Bet.

Anastasia: Anna, Ann, Stasy, Stasia, Tacey.

Alexandria: Alex, Alexis, Alexa, Alexi, Alexia, Alli, Xandra, Xandria.



And then there are the horrible nicknames your mom gives you. I've been christened some real doozies in my years. Check these out:



Sweet Sugar {Not so bad.}

Noodle {...what?}

Noodle Beet {Can I get a wtf?}

Noosk {We've graduated to completely made-up words now...}



I don't even have the excuse of "Oh, my sister couldn't say my name when she was little so..." Nope. Not even. A fully grown woman gave me those.



Now, my sister has some reeeeeally interesting ones too, but guess who's fault that is? >:D *evil laugh* Oh yes. Yours truly. I was a truly creative and random little child at age two. Some of Sarah's nicknames include...



Sooey

Soop

Soo-Potato {That one's actually from my mom.}

Biddle

Biddy

Seech {Lucky for her that one was retired when I was about six.}



What I want to know is why we didn't get cool nicknames like kids in movies, or even my friends? Something like...



The Camera {the Cam Jansen books}

Firecracker {my friend's older brother}

The Brain {Arthur}

Peanut {a friend who's allergic to peanuts}

Bubbles {Galleria in The Cheetah Girls}

Mo {Mortimer in Inkheart}



*sigh* Oh well. The thing about nicknames is that you rarely get to choose your own. That's one thing that was so appealing for me about Blogger in the beginning: You can.



Of course after a while, your name starts to become a part of your identity, whether you like it or not. I got tired of being >insert alias here<. I'm just Stephanie now, and I like that a lot better.



Noosk, however, stays right here, got that? What happens on Pandora...



What about you guys? What are some nicknames you like or hate? How'd you get them?



~Stephanie

Last Day

I'm coming back tomorrow. I haven't seen my family in 18 days. That's longer than I've ever done ANYTHING, much less been without my family for it. I've see three new countries and one new continent. I've heard accents and eaten strange food and switched hotels about every 3 days. It's been crazy and fast and scary and probably wonderful. And now it's all over.

There are two possibilities to how I'm feeling.

Either I'm sick and tired of being in a strange and scary place and ready to get back to my own country...

Or I never want to come home.

~Stephanie

Homesick?

It's Day 13 of my Europe trip. This is the day my non-biological brother Daniel is betting I'll get homesick. Am I? I don't know. Because I'm writing this ahead of time and scheduling it, mwaaaaahahahaha.

But I bet he's right.

~Stephanie

Finding Me

So. Hello. I'm not sure how to begin this post. The idea just sort of came to me today.

See, I visited a college. It's the college I want to go to. I've known that since seventh grade, and touring it only made me more positive that it is the only place for me. Stepping onto the campus felt like coming home.

But this post is not about college. It's about me.

{It's my blog, I'm allowed to be self-centered occasionally.}

I was sitting in the auditorium filled with other high schoolers that could potentially be my fellow college-mates. And as I was sitting there, I began to obsess over my image.

"Wow, her outfit is cute. I wish I'd worn something more original."

"Everyone's hair is straight. Should I have broken my three-month streak and followed suit?"

"My makeup did really badly today. No one is going to talk to me. I look like a freak."

"Why do I feel shy? Stephanie three years ago would not have been shy."

And the obsession slowly began to sink in and gain depth.

See...I've grown up a lot the past few years. I've changed a lot. Sometimes I think I've turned out better, and sometimes I'm appalled at who I've become. It's hard to explain, and I really don't understand it myself.

I recently bought my first Aeropostale shirt. Several of them. I also own a pair of American Eagle shorts. Before this year, I had never bought higher up the fashion food chain than, like, Kohl's. I felt great about my new clothes.

Until I saw myself in a mirror and almost threw-up.

I've conformed to society a little. I can talk about stupid, vapid things with other people now {albeit for limited amounts of time}. I say "like," and "totally," and "I know, right?" and occasionally squeal. I'm really into hott actors now {okay, so I always have been, but it's definitely gotten worse}. Sometimes it's nice to fit in. But mostly I just disgust myself.

Who is this? Who am I? Which parts of me are real, and which parts of me have I become to please people? How far is too far to go? Is it okay to have Aeropostale stuff, or is that really compromising who I am? Er, used to be.

See, I used to be a total nerd. I was really into reading and writing and I actually learned book languages {the Ancient Language from "Eragon," Tolkien's Elvish, Pretty Talk, etc.}. I wore whatever clothes I wanted to and didn't care what people thought. I was a complete grammar Nazi and wouldn't hesitate to let you know that you misplaced an apostrophe. I could never bring myself to giggle excessively and I most certainly never liked something just because it was mainstream. I wasn't always easy to get along with, because I was, well, really strange.

But I was ME.

Lately I've felt really good about myself. People kind of like me, I don't look horrid in every picture anymore, I'm confident, I'm tan, I paint my nails, and I text.

*reaches for a barf bag*

But today, it all came crashing down on me like a house of cards. I'm not who I was. At all.

Normally when people say that, they mean it in a good way. But I'm not so sure. I want to be ME and not who the world makes me, but how am I supposed to do that when I don't know who ME is? I've gotten so wrapped up in being "normal" or "fun" or "cute" or whatever the hell I am that I lost the real me. She's in there, I think, but she's buried really freaking far down.

She's probably somewhere between the outspoken nerd and the giggling conformist. I really hope I can find her.

I leave for Europe in two days. I'll be gone for 19. No family, no home friends, no America. Just me and God and the great wide world. It has the potential to be a tremendous time of self-discovery, and I desperately need that.

I hope I come back changed, guys. I really miss myself.

~Stephanie

< / 3

"Wisdom always chooses

these black eyes and these bruises

over the heartache that they say

never completely goes away."

~ Relient K

Urgh. I don't believe in falling in love when you're young. Especially at the age of, like, eight.

So it's really awkward and ironic that it happened to me.

Actually, "falling in love" is probably not the right sentiment. It wasn't mushy. Not really. I was too little for that. I mean, by the time I was thirteen it could have been mushy, but it wasn't. Not really. Even now it's not.

"Falling in love" doesn't really cover it either because A) that sounds romantic and B) it felt/feels deeper.

See, he was like my older brother and he was wonderful. Cocky, protective, hilarious, good-looking, popular, exciting, smart, witty. He loved strange names and reading just like I did, and still had an imagination even though he was "too old." Everyone liked him.

I have a way of getting attached to people by accident. He was my first experience with that.

I knew he would always be there for me, even though I annoyed him sometimes and sometimes he was a jerk to me. I knew he'd always be there. As I imagined myself older, he was there too. He would be there when I needed boy advice, if someone ever picked on me I knew I could tell him. He'd be at my graduation, at my wedding. He had this irreplaceable spot in my heart, my life.

But he didn't know that, I guess, because his family stopped coming to my church, and that was it. We never saw each other. We never talked. It was never the same. I wasn't invited to his graduation. He won't be here for mine. I'll probably hear about his wedding, but only because I'm friends with his sister.

His family left my church about five years ago. I finally got over the whole "heartache" thing sometime last year. I didn't really think about him much, but it wasn't out of denial or anything, I had just moved on. I had great friends, even some brother-figures, and I honestly didn't need him. I wished him well in his life, but our life spheres didn't and wouldn't ever touch. I was okay with that.

Then this week I found a poem I had written about him. Then my friend (his younger sister) wrote a blog post about him and how awesome he is and what he's doing in life, complete with pictures and a poem of her own.

Ever been kicked in the chest by a horse and then shoved onions in your eyes?

Me neither, but I think I know what that would feel like now.

I guess Relient K is right again; some heartache never completely goes away.

~Stephanie

Character Judge

I like to pride myself on being a good judge of character.

LOLJK.

I suck, guys. I unbelievably suck. At least, I used to. In fact, you could almost guarantee that someone would be the exactly opposite of what I judged them to be.

She seems nice! = She's a total bitch.

He's so real. = He's a player.

She's really stuck up. = She's sweet and shy.

He seems like fun. = He's a stick-in-the-mud.

And so on.

Then you have my friend Ellie who's always been a killer character judge. She judges people the instant she meets them--and she's always right.

She's a total bitch.

He's a player.

She's sweet and shy.

He's a stick-in-the-mud.

Except for lately. See lately our personalities have been doing strange 180s. She used to be very gray-area, now I'm starting to see things less in black and white. She used to have commitment issues, now it's me who can't stick to a decision. I used to suck at judging people, now it's her turn.

It all started with her idiot boyfriend. I judged him to be an emotional wreck of a person, manipulative, wussy and weak in his faith. She didn't see it.

I was right. Ha.

*clears throat* Sorry about that...

And she totally didn't see coming what happened in my little love...situation.

What's happening to us?? Things you used to count on, like me being wrong and her being right on, are suddenly falling apart. What's next? Gravity throws us upward? Goldfish don't smile back? Doctor Doofenshmirtz becomes good?

Oh well. At least there's still death and taxes.

~Stephanie

Being a Writer

I love it. But it's not the romantic gift it's cracked up to be. I'm sure a lot of you know what I'm talking about.

Being a writer is more like a mental illness than a gift.

When you're a writer, writing isn't really something you can just "not do." I mean, you CAN just NOT WRITE, but then you end up waking up in the middle of the night with your eyes like this O.O thinking, "Oh my god, oh my god, where is my notebook, where is my notebook" and fly out of bed and knock your lamp off trying to turn it on and tear your room apart looking for it. Because you had this one line that sounded good in the dream you were having and you might be able to use it sometime.

Or, you're just living life, maybe babysitting, and you get on the kids' tire swing. Sudden the warm breeze is just right and the sun hits your leg and the tree you're under seems perfect and the way the tire swings is spelling one thing to you: STORY IDEA. And yet here you are again without your notebook so you must as calmly as possible ask the kid you're watching if he has any notebook paper available please???

And, for the record, getting a story idea isn't always {or ever} accompanied by that delicious, dreamy look writers get in movies. You know, as an idea gently floats through their mind and they reach for a neat stack of paper and a quill pen.

Actually, getting a sudden story idea feels a lot like wetting your pants.

It's urgent, unexpected and embarrassing, especially if your eyes do the aforementioned thing {O.O}. For me, when an idea hits me like that, it's like a window has been opened to my soul, bright and blue and pure, and I'm afraid everyone can see into it. I feel the physical urge to cover myself.

{This is giving you a whole new appreciation for the mental illness metaphor I used earlier, isn't it?}

Then, if I'm with other people, it's awkward because 1) My eyes just did the bullfrog for no apparent reason and so 2) I have to play it off with some unconvincing excuse because 3) when that Soul Window is open my lying skillz are way incapacitated and 4) I'm also having to hide the fact that I desperately want to GET AWAY FROM YOU and write.

Then there's also the frequently referenced problem of the voices in your head.

Yeah, I don't get that. The only character who won't shut up is Ember, and she's basically an independent form of myself, so...yeah, however that works.

Buuut anyway you slice it, dice it, or look at it, we writers...

...are NOT normal.

~Stephanie

ilovesummer

Btw guys, go to Google today. It's pretty awesome.

Summer is...

waking up late to bright, warm sun.

throwing the sheet off to reveal tanned skin.

using your muscles in ways you haven't all year.

wearing less clothes.

steamy air and gentle breezes.

flip-flop tans.

getting good at mounting a float.

living in a bikini.

gliding under the water and feeling like a mermaid.

eating less and playing more.

spending more time in the lake than on the land.

perfecting the technique of running on sand.

late-night trips to Target.

having 70% of your diet be fruit.

...and the other 30% be ice cream.

watching your body get brown and your face get freckled.

blurring the line between family and friends.

living each day moment to moment.

painting your nails, even though the lake water chips them.

coming home at dusk, still feeling rocked by the water.

being consumed by that warm, exhausted, contented tiredness.

stumbling to bed at 10 o'clock.

ilovesumer.

~Stephanie

FraterHermanoBrotherAdelphosFrere

There are a lot of things you need to know about me to understand me. Fortunately for you, I'm not going to force that extensive knowledge on you. {>insert your tremendous relief<} But, there is one desire that has defined me since I was two years old that I am going to share with you:

The desire to have an older brother.

When I say that, I usually get a chorus of "Aw, me too"s from those who are brotherless and "Um, no you don't"s to those who are brotherful. What I have to say to that is "Yeah, not like I do" and "Um, yes I do."

See, this desire is more than just a shallow feeling living in the back corner of my brain. This desire has always been a full-blown, desperate longing.

It started when I was two. I informed my parents that I wanted an older brother. They calmly explained to me that I had been born first, and it was a little late for that. I just kind of stared at them. How dumb did they think I was? I KNEW that. But there were other options available here, like, hm, I dunno...

ADOPTION, PEOPLE.

They told me we didn't have the money to adopt, which, looking back, was so, so, so, so SO true.

But that didn't stop me.

I decided to take matters into my own hands. If I couldn't have a real brother, I would have to fake it. All my imaginary games began to incorporate a "big brother."

Then I started claiming these two teenaged twin boys at my old church: Jeremy and Jason. They were fifteen years older than me, and perfect brother material. They taught me to play Frisbee and cross my eyes and they would take massive cups of bouncy balls and throw them down the hall with me. They were terrific, really terrific.

Unfortunately, when I was five, we moved and I didn’t see Jeremy and Jason very much anymore. {They were also at college, which made it even harder.}

But I couldn’t live without an “adopted” older brother, so I got to work. I mentally auditioned every older guy I met. I even asked one if he'd be my older brother when I was about seven. He thought I was mental.

Even though I knew it was useless, I prayed for an older brother every night. I wished for one on every birthday and every star. I was so lonely without one. I actually felt like there was a part of me missing. The lack of a brother cast a shadow on every area of life. Why didn’t I have one? The people who did surely couldn’t love and appreciate one as much as I would! It seemed like the world's biggest injustice.

When I was eight, this girl and her older brother started coming to our church. They were nice, and after a while, I became best friends with the girl, Jesse {yeah, no “i”}. She was into the same pretend-games I was, and we had all the same weird interests. One of the coolest parts was that her brother would actually play with us.

He was definitely the brother I'd always wanted. He treated me just like a sister, I treated him like a brother. He would play with me, talk to me, protect me, make me laugh, explain things to me. I loved him and trusted him more than any other guy in the world.

He played imaginary games with us every night after Wednesday night Bible study. Me, Jesse and a bunch of other kids would all run outside to the swing-set in the summertime and wait for him to come play with us. We played Orphans, Spies, Pirates, Kidnapped, etc..

Unfortunately all good things must come to an end. His family left our church and I never saw him much again. The worst part was that he didn’t seem to care. I loved him with all my little girl heart, and he let me go without so much as an “I’ll miss you.” *dramatic sigh* Yeah. That hurt some. Maybe it still does. But anyway.

Point being, I’ve always wanted an older brother, basically to a mentally insane level. The need is very present in the way I think. I feel lonely, like I used to have something that was taken away, or I'm supposed to have something I don't. Like there's a piece of my life missing. Sometimes it feels like I'm living a mistake.

I also know my dad would really like a boy, too. My dad was the last male >insert our last name<. This is the generation my family name dies. If I had had an older brother, our name could live on.

But I also know my dad wouldn't trade me or my sister for ANYTHING. He loves us to death. But sometimes I still feel bad. Like I should have been the boy, and that would have fixed everything. My dad would have a son. He wouldn't have to show his daughter all the stuff about tools and yard work just because he has no one else to tell. At least my little sister would have an older brother.

I also feel kind of lonely a lot. Not for lack of friends, but for lack of...a brother. I don't like being the oldest, and I want someone to look up to, to help me out, to talk to, to protect me if I were ever in trouble.

In a lot of ways, I feel like I’M the older brother. I'm the one who kills the spiders, looks into the weird noises Lizzy hears in the basement, checks behind the closet doors, likes the gory movies, enjoys trekking through the woods, and annoys my little sister. But I don't like being the "older brother." I wish I had someone else to do it.

In the past couple of years, the desire has slowly started to get less intense, and that's a huge shock and relief. After 15 years, I was beginning to think I'd be semi-miserable my whole life. But it's gotten better, I don't cry and obsess all the time like I used to XD It helps that I have good guy friends in my life who can function as older brothers, kind of like I had when I was little.

So yeah. I know this was EXTREMELY long, and not even that funny to make up for it XD If you made it this far, congrats! If you didn't, I guess I can find it in my heart to forgive you ;)

Maybe.

~Stephanie

Stereotypes...

Thanks for following, Charlotte! :D Love your blog.

Are they good or bad? I don't care {at least at the moment. Normally it's the kind of debate I'd like.}. Today I am here to embrace them in a discussion of

Guy Stereotypes: Tall Dark and Handsome vs. Sweet Sensitive Surfer

Two stereotypes, two choices, two opposite elements. Both can be hott, I'll be the first to admit, but every girl has a "Type," and mine just happens to be the former, TDH.

He's mysterious, shadowy and sarcastic. Dark hair, mischievous eyes, smooth voice. Intense, clever and the tiniest bit dangerous.

Just out of curiosity, I Googled "tall dark and handsome." My screen filled with images like this


this

and this


If there had been any doubt in my mind that this was my Type, it was immediately erased.

On the other hand, my good friend Brianna is partial to the Triple S type. Chill, blonde and sensitive. The sparkling white smile, the sexy tanned skin, the bright blue eyes. Funny and sweet the slightest bit shy.

I Googled "hott blonde guys" in order to get some examples.


Yeah. Not my type.

What about you guys? Is your type TDH or the Triple S?

~Stephanie

Legit

Ever heard of the Myers-Briggs typology test? It's a legitimate personality test. Not the kind that tells you "ur a sweet person and ppl luv u!" or "ur kinda bossy u might wanna work on dat." This is a full scale, totally legit psychological test that will explain yourself to you in ways you never considered--with embarrassing accuracy.

I kind of forgot about this test until a few days ago, and it's even more awesome than I remembered.

Even if you're not into this stuff, I would suggest taking it because it honestly helps you understand your own self. You can take it HERE in about ten minutes.

The way the test works is you answer the questions, and it'll give you a four-letter personality type. Mine is ENTJ. There are two possibilities for each letter. You can either be Introverted (I) or Extraverted (E). Then you can either be Sensing (S) or Intuitive (N). Then you have either Thinking (T) or Feeling (F). And lastly you can be either Judging (J) or Perceiving (P).

Sound confusing? It's really not. It's ridiculously accurate though.

The test won't tell you about yourself in detail, it only gives you the letters. If you want to know what Myers-Briggs says about your personality type, take the test and click the appropriate type below. I'm so awesome I've linked you up.

ISTJ - Doing What Should Be Done

ISFJ - A High Sense of Duty {MY YOUNGER SISTER.}

INFJ - An Inspiration to Others

INTJ - Everything Has Room For Improvement {MY DADDY.}

ISTP - Ready to Try Anything Once

ISFP - Sees Much But Shares Little

INFP - Performing Noble Service to Aid Society

INTP - A Love of Problem-Solving

ESTP - The Ultimate Realist {MY GUY. WE ALL TOOK THE TEST IN EIGHT GRADE.}

ESFP - You Only Go Around Once in Life

ENFP - Giving Life an Extra Squeeze

ENTP - One Exciting Challenge After Another {MY CHARACTER, EMBER.}

ESTJ - Life's Administrators

ESFJ - Hosts and Hostesses of the World

ENFJ - The Great Communicators

ENTJ - Life's Natural Leaders {ME AND MY MOM.}

I found a description of my personality and found myself blushing, scowling, laughing and nodding along with it. Here are some highlights of me, an ENTJ. {Comments in the brackets.}

ENTJs...

~ The entire world is a chessboard, with pieces in need of being moved--by them--for the greater good. Life is a system of forces to be understood, mastered, harnessed, altered, or defeated, as appropriate, from day to day. {*awkwardly clears throat* Well. Yes. *blink*}

~ A low regard for people who refuse to engage them or are intimidated by them, and high regard for those who stand up to them and challenge them intellectually, emotionally, or any other way. {YES YES YES YES YES OH MY GOSH YES.}

~ Their strong egos can trick them into thinking they can do or handle anything, including details and intense interpersonal matters, but details and interpersonal skills are simply not the ENTJs' strong suits. {WHAT THE HECK? I CAN SO HANDLE INTERPESONAL--oh. Well. This is ironic.}

~ When an ENTJ "fails" at such matters, the resulting stress, frustration, and feelings of incompetence can result in self-flagellation and criticism, often totally out of proportion to the issue at hand. Indeed, when it comes to criticism of self or others, ENTJs are usually in a class by themselves. {Um. Okay, sort of true... *wince*}

~ To their frequent surprise, ENTJs are often told they appear angry, even when it is just their enthusiasm for a point that has gotten them so worked up. Such encounters can be frustrating for ENTJs--as well as for those around them--and they may find themselves in the rather ironic position of having angrily to defend their nonanger. {*jumps up and down dancing and screaming* YESSSSSSSSSS! OH MY GOSH YES.}

~ Relationships there tend to be open, honest, and stimulating. {True, at least on my end.}

~ ENTJs see children as fun because they are young minds to be encouraged, enlightened, and stimulated. As they grow, the children, too, become eligible to be drawn into hearty discourse about a variety of subjects. {YEAH! :D}

~ When rebellion is encountered, the ENTJ enjoys the exchange, even admires at some level the boldness of whoever is rebelling, but still use maximal powers of persuasion to quell the revolt and ensure that all parties continue to march to the beat of the ENTJ drummer. {Yeah. This is true.}

~ If the rebel manages to win, that person also wins the ENTJ's respect. Each day, at work or at home, the ENTJ may win some and lose some, but there are few, if any, draws. {Wow. This is so accurate.}

~ Teachers may not always understand an ENTJ, and the result is often some very hostile moments, power struggles that an ENTJ student is likely to lose. If there is no face-saving way out, the ENTJ can be resistant to subsequent learning experiences. {Yes yes yes yes YES. Story of my young life.}

~ They don't understand why anyone would personalize an argument or competition. {Yes, seriously. It's not personal, it's just an argument or a competition. I'm going to try to win, to the best of my abilities, and if it seems like I'm mad at you in the process...well, I'm not.}

Let me know what you are!

~Stephanie

Would You Rather...?

Go blind or deaf?

I've often wondered which I'd rather lose, sight or hearing. I mean, the more I think about it the more I'm sure I want them both.

Going blind?

Reading and writing are, like, my life. I'd have to learn Braille to read, and is that even possible now? I mean, am I too old maybe? Is it like doing a split where if you don't do it when you're little, you never will?

And writing. That would be a nightmare. I'd have to get some kind of computer for blind people { one of my friends has something like that} or dictate. Dictating would be horrible; nothing would ever be private.

I could never see a sunset, or pick out clothes. I'd have to relearn everything from sports, to dance, to just walking around.

And what about dating and getting married? I mean, there are a LOT more important things than looks, but come on...I at least want to KNOW what my husband looks like! I'd have to ask someone to describe him to me. I'd have to have someone describe EVERYTHING to me. It'd be horrible.

And then you have going deaf.

I love music. I could never enjoy my favorite songs again. I could never hear NEW songs again. I couldn't listen to something to calm myself down, get pumped, or cheer up. Even singing might be hard; I don't like it when I can't make sure I sound okay.

I wouldn't be able to hear the music at dance either. I wouldn't be able to stay with the group, or feel the beat. Dancing is possible the thing that makes me feel best in the world. How could I do that without music?

I'd have trouble talking to people, and I LOVE to talk. Sign language would be frustrating and take a lot of time to learn. And just forget about phone conversations.

My mom calling me, the sound of applause after a recital, a smoke alarm. I wouldn't be able to hear any of it. What a nightmare.

Both would be so awful. But I decided once that I think I'd rather go deaf. Sign language would be easier to learn than Braille, and I'd have 2 out of my most important 3 {reading, writing and dancing}. Eyes are important to me. I want to be able to make eye contact and see my children. Losing sight would feel more like a loss of control than to lose hearing.

BUT. If I had to choose where to be BORN blind or deaf, I'd pick being born blind. Learning Braille from the start wouldn't be so bad, and I really wouldn't know what I was missing visually. However trying to form thoughts without the knowledge of sound would be really difficult. I mean, we "hear" words in our heads when we think, right? How would it be if we couldn't do that? It would a real developmental roadblock.

So there you have it. I'd rather go deaf NOW, but I'd rather be BORN blind.

What about you?

~Stephanie

~{.dancedance.}~

Heat filled the room, heavy and sticky. Thick heat, dense heat. The room felt small, like there was a charged, pulsing pressure building.

Deep inside, Ember felt her heart thudding a rhythm. Steady and deep, her body responded, letting her beating heart set the pace.

From her lips came small paths of air, hard, steady, controlled. She pushed air out, she pulled air in.

Her whole body beat and breathed at once. Her heart thudded from her chest to her ankles; when her lips drew a sip of air, so did her fingers. Beating, breathing, steady, together.

She felt her body improvise, a thud of her heart led her head to turn. With the next breath, her legs found their way into the air. Again, her arms twirled, her feet spread themselves wide. Her body twisted, her hands pulled into a tight spin.

Before she could notice, her heart had stopped beating. She had stopped breathing. There was no thud; there was no air.

There was only Ember and the music. From somewhere at the center of who she was came a bright spark that quietly exploded.

The world was there only as an afterthought. Nothing was in the front of her mind, only that she was. She didn’t feel tired or anxious or frustrated; she didn’t feel happy or proud or calm. It was a feeling much deeper.

She felt whole.

And there's an excerpt from one of my stories :]

It's especially appropriate because today is my dance recital! I've been dancing for almost 15 years and it's the love of my life. Whenever I write Ember dancing, it's really just me writing myself, from my heart.

I love a lot of things, but dance is somehow in an entirely different category, an apple among the oranges of my life.

Here's hoping the recital goes well :]

~Stephanie

Butterflies and Giveaways

So, this post is going to be about...butterflies and giveaways.

The giveaway part is pretty straight-forward:

Elizabeth at Collection of Reflections makes beautiful jewelry, and for her 100th post {*cheering, fanfare!*}, she's giving away a pair of earrings! {Or $5 off and free shipping on a set.}

What do you have to do to win? It's easy.

First go HERE, to see all the beautiful earrings.

Then, go to her post HERE and comment telling her which pair is your favorite :)

Posting about the giveaway and being a follower will get you extra entries, so take that into consideration ;)

Now, for the butterfly part of the title...

Psycho Babbling Basher, a fascinating blogger and fellow hott-guy-lover, has been so kind as to award me :D {*YEEP* OHMYGOSHIGOTAWARDEDGUYS.}

The award is called the Butterfly Award.

And basically, you just give it to bloggers that you think are awesome {aw, shucks}, post something about yourself, and then pass it on to other worthy keyboarders.

I can do this.

SOMETHING ABOUT MYSELF:

I hate double standards.

And yet, I have a double standard about that.

I know, right, how hypocritical and ironic can you get?

But it's true. I expect people to treat me the same way they treat everyone else. And I expect people to treat everyone the same. I think it's unfair when people bend the rules for only certain people.

But then, it's okay if I'm nicer to some people than others. It's okay if I make exceptions for people I really like. If I bend the rules for my best friend, the world should just back off and be okay with it.

I hate double standards. And yet I have them. It's stupid and wrong and I'm desperately working on it.

And now it's time to award some fellow awesome bloggers :D

Elizabeth because...she loves Bonanza.

Shruti because...her blog header is cool.

Kyrenius because...I know him XD

Jesayka because...her blog title sounds so foreboding, but it's not--PSYCH.

Tinuke because...her "follow" button is in a different language :O

Noodlecanoodle because...I like the blog title. Even though the blog kind of confuses me. I like it.

~Stephanie

{truth is}

**This post talks about some adult issues. If you just hesitated even slightly, please don't read this post. It's NOT that it's horribly R-rated, it's just that there are so many things I wish I didn't know, and I don't want to be the one to introduce you to this crap.**

So, the whole "truth is" thing has been going around Facebook for a while, although I'm pretty sure it's over. All good {or just kind of lame} things must come to an end. But I recently showed a friend this blog, and got to thinking about "truth is."

The things I post here are me. All the way. The way I think, the way I talk, the way I feel. Some of it is weird, a lot of it is a little crude, but it's me. Uncut, uncensored. {And honestly, it could be a lot worse. Just saying'.}

But as the friend scanned the posts, I felt on edge, like I was about to lie.

"Oh, that wasn't me posting actually, one of my friends did that one."

"I don't really think that, I just thought it was funny."

"Someone...put me up to that?"

But no.

No. No. NO. No. NO.

I am done lying. I am done hiding. At least here, at least on Pandora.

I'M NOT PERFECT, GUYS. And sometimes, I flat out suck. I'm not proud of it, I'm trying to change it, but I am not going to lie or hide it. The whole reason I started Pandora was so I could have a place to be REAL. My REAL thoughts, my REAL feelings, my REAL mind.

I will never lie to you here. I might not tell it all {last name, birthday, street name, social security number}, but I'm not going to slant things. I'm not going to twist a story to make myself look better. I'm not going to pretend like I'm not one of the worst people I know.

I've told you before that I struggled/struggle with porn. That idea is true, but it's not exactly right. I didn't feel like explaining it then. But what I really struggle with is masochism, and in the written form. Not like graphic novels, but the crap you can find online.

{I know some people are going to tell me that there's nothing wrong with that, that it's just who I am and I should embrace it and stop worrying. Well, I don't want to be that way.}

I didn't even know masochistic stories/descriptions/websites existed when I started looking for them. I was completely innocent. I just had these raw feelings of masochism that I've had for as long as I can remember. I didn't know it was a sexual thing, I just knew what I wanted and Googled it. I had no idea what I was getting into.

But, as you all know, the internet is ready and waiting to help people like that, and I got sucked into the whole thing really fast and hard. Without knowing what was going on, I didn't know that I should fight it. I mean, I figured there was something wrong with wanting to be beaten and enslaved, but I didn't...I just didn't know what was going on.

Ugh. You don't even know how hard it is for me to write this. I know it's easy to read, but writing it is like pulling out my insides. This whole thing is probably the hardest thing I've ever written >.< But no lies here. No sugarcoating. I lay it all out on the line for Pandora. For the first time in my life, I have a place to be brutally honest.

In real life, I hide that whole side of me. The Me inside is so different from the Me my friends know and love.

I'm not one of those people who's afraid no one would like her if they knew her real self. I have some really good friends that I know would never forsake me, even if they knew. That's not what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid of their eyes. If they knew the darker side of me, they'd look at me differently. Every time a related subject came up, I'd feel dirty and horrible.

You know that uncomfortable feeling you get when watching a racy movie scene with your parents? That's what my whole life would feel like if everyone knew. I hate being fake, but I'd hate being real more.

That's the whole reason behind Pandora. I don't have to fake here, at all, ever. In fact, I forbid myself to be fake here. I don't allow myself to lie, twist, slant, etc. anything I post. Is it uncomfortable? Yes. Do I worry about my friends somehow finding this blog? Absolutely. But I need Pandora. As much as I needed my old blog at the time, I now need Pandora.

The truth is, I'm not perfect, and I finally get to admit it.

~Stephanie