please just make it stop... |letter #4|

Dear the Me Who Will-Have-It-All-Together,

Please don’t make the same mistakes that I made today.  Seriously, it will save you much stress, frustration, and precious time.  I’m trying to advise you with this letter, but all I can do is be selfish and think about how incredibly annoyed and exhausted I am.  I’m agitated.  I’ve had the wrong attitude about everything that was going right today.  My lack of sleep has been the death of me and the absence of food usually fueling my blood leaves me lifeless.  I went to two career leadership meetings but I was as tired as pregnant lady after birth.  Perhaps you’ve experienced that already; well then you know how I feel.  It was a complete out-of-body experience as I sat there in front of the room staring at the tall bulky man with that flashy white smile tell me for two hours the million and one contradictory things I should be doing to land my perfect job.  “Be happy, but not too happy; be serious but not too serious! Don’t slouch, but don’t sit so stiff either!”  My mind ran all different directions. Write down this, no, scratch it out.  Write down that, wait, erase it and put this instead.  The message of success could not have been more enigmatic.

The second meeting could not have been more desperately self-draining to my mind.  Not only did I not have the privilege of listening to an actual live speaker and was forced to direct my unreliable  attention to a random man speaking on an internet clip, but it lasted a full hour of my time.  Yes, I could have been sleeping then, or maybe stuffing myself with some energy in the form of a Subway sandwich or McDonald’s fries.  Actually, scratch out the McDonald’s fries, I chose to cut back on that little insatiable addiction of mine.  It’s unhealthy, of course.  Yet even unhealthier was that the crowded room was set up for the immediate slumber of the members present.  How dare they turn off the all the bright lights and force us to watch, in complete undisturbed darkness, a boring football player tell me things about life I learned in 6^th grade already?  Yes, sir, I know how to set goals.  Oh yes, I know exactly how to keep myself accountable.  Did I not do the same thing when I set the goal of making all A’s in middle school and accomplished it by keeping track of my assignments and studying to the best of my ability for every test?  Yes, I still do it now, which is how I ended up in this national honor society meeting in the first place.
 

I’m sorry.  I know I went off this rant just now but I just wanted to let it all out.  I know you are probably looking at this really crazy because trust me, I already know you have your life all together, unlike me.  It’s okay, I will eventually get there.  Anyway, before I get distracted again, take it from me and get enough sleep each night and nutritious food and water each day.  Also, don’t forget to take advantage of every opportunity available, even though you may not feel one hundred percent yourself at the time it is given to you.  What I’m really trying to say is this: persist even when you don’t feel like it.  Trust me, if I had not decided to do just this, you wouldn’t be reading this right now.

Love, 
Stephanie


 (Courtesy of seanmcgrath)

twenty absolutely ridiculous pet peeves... |letter #3|

Dear Anyone Who Wishes to Be My Friend, Now or in the Future,

1.  I hate scrunched up napkins. Refrain from scrunching up your napkins in my presence.
2.  I hate chipped off nail polish on ugly chopped up fingernails, so either take it off or put it back on.
3.  I hate it when people smile for no reason during a serious conversation. It's distracting.
4.  I hate it when my hair brush, my gold flip flops, my purple marker, and my hair straightener are out of place in my room, like right now. I'm just letting you know that I am slightly OCD.
5. I hate odd numbers. This is just random, but it had to be said.
6. I hate when people rub body lotion, paint, or cream on my skin.
7. I hate really really fake looking full head weaves.
8. I hate it when people stare at me with big nosy eyes for long periods of time.
9. I hate it when I step on nasty little crap on the floor when my feet are wet from the shower. Another random fact.
10. I hate having the same small talk about nothing with the same people every day. Let's not talk about the weather this time, okay?
11. I hated it when nacho cheese was stuck on my friend's empty plastic bottle and a paper receipt was on top of it all. It happened the other day. It was disgusting!
12. I hate it when the “Do you want to update to the new Internet Explorer” page comes up on the Spelman computers every time I use it. It puts me back in time by 2.7 seconds. Just thought you should know.
13. I hate it when girls try to match their whole outfits with only color. Do you really need pink earrings, shoes, nails, a shirt, a necklace, and hair tie? No you don’t.
14. I hate it when unnecessary sweat marks show up in profile pictures on Facebook. Photoshop that now!
15. I hate it when garbage on the table while eating is not organized.
16. I don’t like hairy legs.
17. I can’t stand when my mom gets her 3 minute hearing disorder at the beginning of every conversation. Did I really just repeat the same thing four times? Please don't have a hearing disorder.
18. I hate it when careless people bend the edges of my books.
19. I hate it when people with no mutual friends friend request me on Facebook. Did you really think I would accept you? Of course, that would never be you.
20. Finally, I hate it when people drive super slow. Love to speed, just like me.

 (Courtesy of Horia Varlan)



Love,
 Stephanie

it's official. i hate you. |letter #2|

Dear My Future Husband,

I fought another battle today, but not with my homework, my grades, my internship, my thoughts, or my emotions.  No, today I fought a battle against it. One of the most important things I first want to lay on the table with you, since I vow to be completely and utterly honest with you as I should be, is that I hate scrunched up napkins. Scratch off that look on your face.

and this is where they should always be: contained!

(Courtesy of Vileseskogen) 

The sight of them makes me wallow in disgust.  I have this unexplainable ratched emotion towards the evil ugly thing that unfortunately no one else around me reciprocates.  Apparently, I am the only sane person in this world who can clearly see and revoke the annoying and unappealing appearance of a napkin scrunched up.  

the evil little critter!

(Courtesy of erix!) 

The other day I was sitting in the cafeteria with three of my girlfriends.  There was nothing special about this day, no amazing life changing event occurred, just me and my friends eating in the café on a typical day of school.  I was in the middle of explaining a story of when I accidentally tripped down the stairs in an important interview to my friend across the table when it happened.  A red splash of pizza sauce sprayed all over her bright white shirt after taking a bite of pizza. Immediately she grabbed a napkin from the container and began swiping away the mess like a mad woman.  

Then she committed a crime only true friends would know never to commit in my presence.  She scrunched up the napkin she used and left it like a betraying tease in front of my face ten inches away from my plate.  It just sat there, looking like the most hideous object ever. It was so small, so scrunched up from my friend’s pressure, and so red with sauce.  I saw millions of unorganized folds and rips on it. My skin started pricking and my hands sweating. I had trouble concentrating on the conversation around me.

it's this kind of cuteness that makes my napkin condition look crazy

(Courtesy of Hygiene Matters)

I couldn’t stop looking at the nasty little critter.  I tried to distract myself.  I fiddled with my phone, I laughed too hard at bad jokes, and I ate really really fast.  Minutes of internal torture passed and eventually I couldn’t take it sitting there and looking at me with that sneer anymore.  I exploded.  I jumped from the table, swatted the napkin across the table onto the floor, and stormed out of the cafeteria.  Instantly, I felt relieved and left with a triumphant smile on my face.  Another battle of the scrunched up napkin conquered.

Love, 
Stephanie

daughter of a workaholic... |letter #1|

Dear Poppy,

 

One night I heard you and Mummy in the office speaking in hushed tones. Through the shut door, I picked up Mummy’s voice, like a silent cry for attention. “Pierrot, please…” I think she was asking for another family vacation again, probably the trip to Mexico she’s been planning for a while. But then I heard your deep dominant voice speak up and that was that. Whatever Mummy was planning had been dismissed. I guess you had to work again or maybe you couldn’t take time off. Now that I think about it were you ever off? Were you ever available? I remember another night when Mummy slaved in the kitchen for six hours cooking up a beautiful feast for you. It took forever for Alain, Sebastian, and me to set up the table to her liking. You know how she’s picky and meticulous on everything. But when it was all done and perfect, all we were missing at the family table was you. An hour later you called to say you had to stay overnight at the hospital again. I cried myself to sleep that night. I never told you that.
 

In my adolescent stage characterized with skewed wisdom, work came first. But as a child it was different. Every night you were home early with my favorite Snickers bar in your warm hands for your three children and a kiss for your wife. You spoiled me with your sweet admiration, contagious laugh, and insatiable attention. I was daddy’s little girl and everyone knew it. Then things changed. I felt animosity and irritation burning inside every time you walked out that front door. But I could not bear to show that. I loved you too much to openly hurt you. I could not look into your soft eyes with such harsh emotions. Everyone understood the need to support our wealthy lifestyle, but I couldn’t. I never felt justified to feel so angry with you. I’m selfish and I know it. How could I who wanted to go to great expensive schools that demanded loads of money tell you I could not accept you working so much? But I didn’t want the things money could buy, but the time I could never get back.
 

I never told you how I felt and I think nineteen years means I’ve waited too long. I want to tell you so much. I want the ideal father-daughter relationship. I want you to beat up the boys in my life who will break my heart and love the man in my life who will marry me one day. I want you to be my first shelter I run to when I’m scared. I still want to be your little girl. But I also want to say how much I appreciate you and what your work has essentially done for me. You work so much because you love it, but more importantly because you love me. You want give me the good life that you had to struggle so hard for. Because you worked so much, I am where I am today, attending a prestigious college and excelling in academic excellence. You taught me the value of both education and hard work. I appreciate all of this. I understand now and I don’t feel the same hideous way. Poppy, I love you so much and I miss you and your comforting embrace in this hectic college world. I just have one parting question: Can you be my forever best friend?

Love,
 Stephanie