Welcome to my thinkings, on WordPress.com.

As a Stephanie, I am a person. I am spiritually intense. My name brings love and new stars into life. I do feel that I have more love for people or whoever’s, no matter how much they aggravate me. I do tend to have an exciting life, if I do say so myself.

I have always known I have artistic visions. I am a writer, after all. So apparently, I can pass that off to my name. Along with those visions, I am always looking for an opportunity to do research of the unknown. Hold on a second while I go retrieve one of my books about a haunted dwelling. Maybe I, a Stephanie, will also one day figure out what the meaning of life is. Perhaps this would help me grow wise and to understand people more.

So then how do I become a writer when I can’t even begin to write out all of these other ideas that are in my head? I want to write how Brian and I met and fell in love. I want to write about how a group of fat girls gathered together, created fake profiles as good looking skinny girls, then began to murder the boys who had rejected them. That is the idea I want to have the most fun with, yet I have no idea how to begin it! I try to make myself sit down and write. I want to make myself write! I want to be a writer! I have so many ideas from my Pinterest. Stupid Pinterest. I have my phone remind me every three days, I believe, to write, yet, when it goes off, I do not abide by it. I just ignore it, as I have been doing when it beeps at me to exercise. How am I supposed to write about all of these ideas in my head when I can’t seem to motivate myself? I can’t seem to think about where to start. Where did all these authors begin? Did they start at those first words in the books that are sitting upon my shelf?

It doesn’t matter what I write about. No person will read what I have to say. No one on this Earth even listens to me, so why would they read what I even write about? I could walk into a room, filled corner to corner, shoulder to shoulder with people, wriggle my way up onto the stage just to be ignored as I was shouting through a megaphone that there were free tacos at the bar. So why would anyone even want to read about what I have been doing these past few months? No person would even read what I did yesterday. I could fall off of a cliff and no person on this planet would even notice.

My life is still standing. It’s all in one piece. Why do I even write? Does anyone, other than my mother, even read any of this? If you do; please raise your hand. I need to be acknowledged in some way. I need to not be ignored. You may say that I’m not, but I often feel that I am.

I am ignored in more ways. When I think plans were made between me and somebody, my excitement begins to build as that day approaches. I repeatedly glance at my phone, expecting a reminder or a mention of what we had spoken of a few days prior to this date. Then, when that day arrives, my phone is still empty, my messages still ignored, my emotion of loneliness and aggravation begins to rise inside of me. Zack, my poor stuffed zebra, begins to endure the pain of me squeezing out all of these irritations into him. Poor little guy. My phone is empty. My life is empty. I am empty. Like I had mentioned above, I could leave my life and no person would notice. I sometimes want to.

I should do that one day. Just disappear, like my ideas for writing tend to do. If I had a better car, I would just hop into it just to drive anywhere and everywhere without mumbling a word to anyone. If I had the ability to venture away from my pharmacy for more than 30 days, I would do this. Yet, as I am one of those individuals who cannot go a single day without taking their medication I feel like I can’t venture far. Well, in a way, I can, yet I would just be on the floor, arms and legs swinging around from side to side, my mind having no idea who any person in the room was. Not that I ever do, even now.

I could be in a room with other people, talking to some of them, when suddenly another one feels that what they have to say cannot wait a single second longer so they must explode into the middle of my conversation, drawing all attention away from me. I can’t seem to get attention back to me. When I try to, word over word, take over; nothing. I can’t even try to begin a new conversation when there are a few seconds of silence. I begin to speak, yet when another person does and BAM! All attention is on them. So I just slink back into my dark hole.

From my dark hole, I saw you guys were having some fun this weekend. From all of those pictures, it looked like you and a group of people were having a spur of the moment gathering. Haha; was your phone broken? I can understand if this was a family gathering, but when I catch a glance of people who I do usually see at a big, planned event, I can almost feel my dark hole calling my name again. Especially when I know I had called you that night.

Looking around my bedroom, from my bed that I feel there isn’t really any reason to get out of these days, I am beginning to see things that I don’t feel is belonging to me anymore; my life. I am feeling there is a giant magnet somehow pulling me back to my younger years. Not that I’m old, but I am not supposed to be able to make my own decisions without being required to clear it all with the warden first. If my plans are to be out for the evening, I must have a minute by minute detail of where I will be, what I will be doing, who I will be with. I am beginning to feel as if I have a curfew. When I do come in at the wretched hour of three am, I must sneak past my parents OPEN bedroom door. How do I know they’re really sleeping and not looking at the clock, waiting for me to wander in?

Yet when I seem to write about any of this, no person will ever know. So, I’ll just keep it all shoved into my overflowing mind as I continue to sit alone on my couch. Las Vegas, here I come.

I am a writer

 

Reading Into My Future

I am not afraid to admit that I am a believer in the deeper side of life. The other side, if you will. I frequently visit my physic when I am able to. I need to know why I am not on the path I feel like I am supposed to be on. I need my questions answered and my tarot cards can answer them for me. When I am unable to see her, I sit on the nights of the quarter moon and do my own readings. This last one that I did makes me feel that I am finally doing all that I need to be doing to be happy in life.

The first card represents me and the issues that are surrounding me. I had drawn the Four of Swords. This card represents an inner retreat that I am currently taking. My present situation is very difficult and I may be in the midst of much turmoil. The swords on the wall symbolize my previous battles and the sword at my side represents my current conflict. I will soon be taking up that sword again.

The two main issues that are surrounding me in life are money and loneliness. I cannot seem to be in control of them. I just waste through my money as soon as I get ahold of some. I see a penny, I pick it up, wishing that it turns into a pot of gold. Along with this pot of gold, I hope my soul mate that I keep thinking has been lost on his path in life will be the one carrying it along towards me.

The swords that are on his walls represent a current conflict I do feel like I have been dealing with for, probably, the past two years; the man I cannot seem to fall out of love with. I love him, the next day I don’t. Two weeks later, I need to see him, but then he exhales wrong and I can never speak to him again. I believe it’s the Pisces and the Cancer in the both of us; we both need to be in charge, neither of us can take advice or knows how to pay attention to the other, then when this happens our levels of aggravation rises to a ten. This I the conflict on my road in life that I need to run away from.

My second card represents my behavioral patterns that are influencing my love life. I am a very different person; never the same. This card had been the Seven of Pentacles. This is the card that represents a sense of dissatisfaction that I feel with the results of a project that I have recently completed, maybe in my workplace or in my life. This card makes me feel that my workplace is still fairly new and I am still very nervous the days that I am out. I am a little jittery about the tasks I am given on those days. I worry that I will not complete them, or I will take far too long for the doctor that I work for. He needs that lab work as quickly as possible so that, for one, he is not working until midnight and also so the person who the tests are for gets their results.

Though, despite the less satisfactory results from this Seven of Pentacles, I am glad when any of my jobs with him are over. I am grateful that I now have time to relax, which is all I’ve been doing all day anyway. I still feel that I could be doing more, though. This card can be a warning against perfectionism and a sign that I MUST sometimes step back and just let go. This card shows that my behavioral patterns influencing my love life are showing me that I need to relax. If I get this high strung or nervous at work, then I can only imagine how I am as soon as one person has a crush on me. If only they would tell me.

My third card represents the area’s that need further growth in order for me to find love. I had drawn the Seven of Swords. This is the card that makes off with my enemies’ weapons, but not all of them. Some of the swords remain, which are evidence that the war is not over. Maybe these are the swords that I can use to press on in life to fight for my battle on this road of love. The Seven of Swords acts alone, which does indicate that my present situation is not over. What is currently going on in this path that I have been dealing with for the past three years I WANT to be over with. I really do. This is what the purpose of multiple break ups are for. The warning with this card is not to get too wrapped up in mental games, one-upmanship and petty battles that do not solve battles. I need to take the high road. So perhaps, this is a sign that I just need to press on, and just ignore his calls and messages, which is a lot harder than it may seem.

My fourth card represents the areas I need to change or process in order to find love. I drew the Two of Wands. This card represents opportunity. AH, the perfect card that I need to find love! This card shows the balance with which I approach my goal. There are few cards with the red rose and white lily combined. Combined, they may symbolize the balance of thoughts and desire, the lily being the thought and the rose being desire, the balance of the head and the heart. Together they represent pure or unconditional love.

The man, looking out at the sea, suggest there is a trade and could indicate a strong partnership and alliance. I am in the early stages or prosperous enterprise. I can step outside my comfort zone and explore a new world. I just need some courage to do this. I have courage. If I can walk up to my favorite, big black security guard at my favorite bar and give him my phone number, than I am a lion.

My fifth card represents the areas that need to be liberated within myself to allow love into my life. I had drawn the Five of Cups. This card suggests that I am upset over a loss or disappointment. I cannot think of anything that I have lost lately in my life, though. The three cups spilled at the man’s feet in the picture indicate the losses that I am experiencing. But how can I be experiencing these if I haven’t lost anything? My keys? They’re in my purse. I still have my job. I suppose it could be money, but that is my own, juvenile fault.

I may not be aware of the strong support system that remains indicated by the two cups still standing. My friends and loved ones are offering their support, but I am focusing too much on disappointment. I know that I am always like this. I never accept assistance. I always focus on how a project is going to fail more than how it will succeed. I get this from my dad. There is a river in the image that suggest troubled emotions that are making me feel lost. I am cutting myself off from the joy and love associated with home. I feel that I am just trying to be an adult. I still live with my parents, so how am I supposed to be one?

I need to notice the bridge isn’t too far; it can lead me home again and into the arms of love.

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I’m Pressing On

So, again I gave my number to a really nice looking guy the other night. Then, I came home, kicking myself on the inside for doing that. A woman doesn’t give a dude her number. Well, not most of the time. The guy is supposed to have more balls than the woman and walk over to her to begin down their road to happiness. Yet, I am usually the Juliet that has to tell Romeo that he seems to have missed a turn or two.

I walked over to this nice looking brute as my evening of singing to the bar had come to an end. I had drank enough of my sorrows away so I needed to brighten up my evening. I only had the idea of getting to know Mike a little further because we had been chatting quite a bit that night. I was being drawn into his Lions hating, programmerish world. But, two days later, my phone remains empty. Jerk.

This makes me wonder that maybe I am missing a piece of a puzzle in my life. Perhaps that is why I am stuck on this lonesome road. Can I not just use duct tape, or staples to hold that hole together, so that I can just move onto the more important issues I need to be dealing with? Super glue can work for everything, too.

I mean, come on men! If I have no problem walking up to you and introducing myself, flirting the night away, once I handed you my number, don’t make me feel like I wasted my time. I could have walked over to guy number two if I would have known that YOU weren’t going to give me the time of day. One date is not going to kill you. Or, you could have given me the old “thank you, but I’m seeing someone” excuse instead of making me ice cream my sorrows away as I sit by my phone for days waiting in anticipation. Jerk.

Whatever his reason, I press on. I obsess over my dating sites, my hope level set at a three. I don’t want to keep it too high, just so I can fall back down to the rocks of glass in life when I receive no response from the eighteenth dude that week that I had sent a “Hey!” to. Receiving no response, I press on. My road in life will never end, alone or not, I press on.

Rejection Green Road Sign Over Storm Clouds

Have a Nice Life

I know that my life will get better with time. I feel like I’m going to hurt while I’m healing. Even though I really love you, I know that I will smile because I deserve to. So, maybe things will get better with time. Even when I turned on my television, a commercial would remind me of you. I would just put aside my feelings. I know there is no more you and me, so I know that I can be free. I will get better with time. I know that if we ever had to switch places, and I was a guy, I would know how much it was hurting you to be losing me. It is a little too late for you to come back just to tell me that everything between us  was just a mistake. If you thought I have been waiting for you, you have been thinking all wrong. All of this time, I have been wasting, all you do is let me down. You think everything will be fine again but definitely not this time around. You don’t have to call me. I know that we’ve been apart and back together, again and again, both of us falling in and out of love. I am trying not to be someone who can walk away so easily. But, I am giving up. I thought I had been learning to love, then I started feeling so small. You know that I did love you. But I am done.

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When This Girl Walks In…

The other day, we had another argument. We seem to be having them more and more. I’m beginning to feel like it’s all my fault. But they have their own faults. My pants. They seem to be getting smaller and smaller day after day. Either that, or my hips are getting wider and wider. I think it’s the latter. I wanted to throw my beautiful dark grey dress pants in the trash when I felt more bloated than ever while attempting to zip them up. I felt as though my hips were about to explode.  I love being able to wear them, having no need to very often. I am in need of my jeans more than anything. They are more comfortable, but as I have been saying, my dress pants have been losing more weight than I seem able to.  Though, once I take off my jeans and put on my pajama bottoms, that is when I begin to look more pregnant than my friends. Having this big butt does not help either. I do love my big hips at times, but I would much rather have the same size and shaped bottom that my sister has; flat.

My body seems to want to suck in every single fat organism that is on this Earth. I know, I know; I can change this. I can get off my ass, quit drinking cola and do it all on my own. I can have the surgery I have opted out of twice. I can do this. But I don’t. I continue to eat my fast food. I go to my 7-11 everyday. I eat my chocolate. My ass falls asleep everyday because I do not get off of it. Where is this motivation that you all speak of? I seem to have wandered off of his road and am unable to find my way back.

Oh I know; perhaps I should just use this previous speed dating I decided to go to for the eighteenth time as a big kick in my ass to shove me down this road of health. This past event did nothing to burst my ego. Ten lucky, single men had their opportunity in life to travel down my sole mate path in life and none of them chose to spend more than five minutes of their lives with me. Perhaps it was the pants I had chosen to wear that evening. I believe I had worn my dressy, tight denims. I wear those when I know that it was a casual/dress event. Apparently none of these computer-holics like big butts. Apparently, they were expecting their stick, thin super models that they all fantasize about having while they stare at their computers every night. It’s called reality, you Nerdfergasins! Not all of us woman on this planet are a size 2!

The average American woman weighs 166 pounds. Michigan is ranked the tenth most obese state in these United States. So come on men; get your heads out of your asses and look past my stomach. Look deep down inside my rolls; I am awesome. I am nice. I am funny, helpful, cuddly. I like to play board games. I like to cuddle. I like to pretend that I know where I’m going when I am the driver, then ignore you when you’re trying to give me directions. So maybe there is one of you out there who can look past these big hips, for as shallow as I can be at times, once I get sucked into your boring conversation about whatever you might be talking about, I can look past all of what you have on the outside and see who you are deep down inside.

 

The Crown of Stefanos

I have always loved my name. Me, along with my name, does have a staying power. I can be feminine without being so prissy. Stephanie has had a long run of popularity, being in the top 20 in the 1970’s and 1980’s. The male for of Stephan, Stephanie comes from the Greek name “Stefanos” meaning crown”. That makes me feel even more like a princess. I am happy either as Steph, Stephers, Stephie. Me liking my name has always made me want to name my first son, if I were to ever have one, Steven; and I would spell it that way.

Urban dictionary defines my name as very nice and caring towards everyone. So long as you don’t piss me off, I would walk to the ends of the Earth for a complete stranger. I always have a smile on my face, even on my worst days. It is said that even though I don’t know it, I am very beautiful and smart, but I already know all that!

My name is more popular in these United States than in England and any other parts of the world. It is ranked at number 205, which I still think is a very good ranking. Sorry I am not as popular as these “cooler”, more “unique” names, but I’m sure your daughter does not share her name with nine historic royals. There are 17 world wide athletes, 26 singers and actresses, including Stephanie “Stevie” Nicks and Stefani Germanotta or, more well known as, Lady Gaga. The American author of the “Twilight Series” was written by Stephenie Meyers. I feel honored to share my name with all of these historians.

I, as a person, as a Stephanie, am spiritually intense. My name brings love and new stars into life. I do feel that I have more love for people or whoever, no matter how much they aggravate me. I do tend to have an exciting life, if I do say so myself.

I have always known I have artistic visions. I am a writer, after all. So, apparently, I can pass that off to my name. Along with those visions, I am always looking for an opportunity to so research of the unknown. Hold on a second while I retrieve one of my books about a haunted dwelling. Maybe I, as a Stephanie, will also, one day, figure out what the meaning of life is. Perhaps this would help me grow wise and to understand a person more.

But, who really knows. I just know that I, as a Stephanie, can be no more awesome than I already am.

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I Wish I Could Be An Adult

Looking around my bedroom, I am beginning to see something that I don’t feel is belonging to me anymore; my life. I am feeling there is a giant magnet somehow pulling me back to my younger years. Not that I’m old, but I am, lately, not able to make my own decisions without being required to clear everything with the warden. If my plans are to be out for the evening, I must have minute by minute details of where I will be. I am beginning to feel as if I broke a curfew when I come in at the wretched hours of three am. I must sneak past my parents open bedroom door. How do I know if they’re really sleeping?

I am an adult. I am a grown up. So why do I sometimes not feel like one? Too much love can be over bearing, at times. When it is shoved in a person’s face, it can, occasionally, just be thrown into the fire pit just to be burned up into little pieces that cannot be reused, ever again. I appreciate all that is given to me, but how am I supposed to say that every so often there’s too much, when tomorrow I’ll probably need help screwing in a light bulb?

I love all of the advice that is given to me. But too much, too often can just remind me about all of the mistakes that I have been making. Sometimes, it can be best to make those mistakes, as hard as it will be for you to see. Or for you to hear me gripe about. This can make a much more lasting impression on my life. These mistakes can help to show me which road I need to make a U-turn on.

I love all of the support I have been given in my life, for all the good and the stupid I have done. I have even read that when it comes to money, it can be alright to voice your concerns about where and how your child takes care of their finances. I know I have not been very good with mine lately. There is even, sometimes, good reasons to set essentials for spending. But, after telling me about any of your concerns and perhaps even setting any ground rules, it might be good to add, “The final decision is yours and I will emotionally support whatever you decide.” I love you. Don’t push me away.

 

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Birds and Their Feathers

Birds seem to like me. Their gifts that they gave me just showed me how much I know of their love. So many little splots of love all over my car. This just made me think that spring was in the air. Or even, maybe, that one single bird sitting on the branch above my car perhaps had too many tacos the night before. I could see, so many yards away, that my car had, had chocolate rained upon it and I could just imagine how much fun the little birds must have been having. I, too, consume too much on more than one occasion, but never have I ever gone to the bathroom on another person’s car. Not that I recall, anyway. So, now I know how much fun those little, “turdgrals,” were having when, they were more than likely, just sitting around, each having a branch to themselves, chirping their problems away when one of them decided to begin the good old fashion “Truth or Dare”. How mature of them. They would so innocently start with the beginner ones, where their deep inside teenage selves would be dared to kiss one another. Or the truths would be coming out and all their virginities would be on the branches in no time. After a few more small dares is when the big ones would start coming. That’s more than likely when one of the tougher birds would dare one of the smaller birds to crap as much that he had inside of him all over the closets car; mine. And he would, just so he could prove, to himself and the others that he belonged. So, I thank you little birdie out there, for having all of this poo inside if you; three car washes six months later I can still see little pieces of your brown poop on a black car.

They seem to like me at the zoo as well. They are drawn to me, all those wild ones. Even in the new, beautiful bird exhibit, I can sense them all nearing in on me as soon as I enter. It’s almost as is if they’re stalking me, almost as if I am they’re lunch. Not all birds are carnivores, though. I don’t believe the ones flying around my head were looking down on me, thinking, and “hey look! A sandwich!” I was getting the new friend-sense from them, which I would for sure be if one just swooped down and made my shoulder his home. This Polly would for sure receive a cracker from me.

One little birdie that would never receive a gift like this from me, would be the one who had done the worst to me in my life, even worse than what had been done to my car. He had done one of my most embarrassing things I have ever had to endure on what I had felt was beginning to be my most fun filled day at the zoo in a very long time: he pooped on me. And not just a wee bit of poo. This little fowl, whoever he was, piled the most enormous load of crap on me that made me feel as if a heard of ostrich had just flown above me, had they been able to. I was also oblivious to this turd on my face, yes my face, as I thought maybe a bug had hit me in my eye. So I walked around for a few moments, with the piles on me, when my pal pointed out “Hey, you have crap on your face.”

Thank you, Embarrassment Fairy, I could not have asked you for a better day. Please make sure to repeat all of the above on my wedding day.

 

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The Lonley Fox

I’m standing. It is still in one piece, my life. But why do I even write about it? Does anyone, other than my mother, even read about it? If you do; raise your hands. I need to be acknowledged in some way. I need to not be ignored anymore. You may say that I’m not, but I feel like I am. When I think plans were made between me and a person, my excitement builds up as that day approaches. I repeatedly glance at my phone, expecting a reminder or a mention of what we had spoken of a few weeks prior to this date. Then, when that day arrives, and I awaken out of bed with a big smile on my face, excitement building up inside me, my phone remains empty, my messages are ignored. My emotions of loneliness and aggravation begin to rise inside of me. My poor stuffed zebra, Zack, begins to endure the pain of me squeezing out all of these irritations onto him. Poor guy.

I will in the middle of a conversation when, suddenly, another person feels that what they have to say cannot wait a single second longer, so they must explode into the middle of my discussion, drawing all attention away from me. I am not able to talk my way back in. When I try to, word over word take over; nothing. I can’t even try to begin a new conversation when there is a few seconds of silence. I begin to speak, yet another speaks and BAM! All attention is on them. So, I just slink back into my dark hole.

From my dark hole, I saw you that guys were having some fun this weekend. From all of those pictures you felt you should share with the world, it looked like you and a bunch of other people were just having a spur of the moment gathering. One question, though: was your phone broken? Mine wasn’t. I do understand if this was a family celebration, but when I see that it’s being held at our home or perhaps you all gathered at a small bar, I can almost feel my dark-hole calling to me again. Especially when I know I had called you that night, the rings continued until the only voice I heard was that of your mail.

My dark hole needs a light switch.

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Dear Mom and Dad

I love you. I love you to the core of my heart. I can never express this enough. All of the hugs that I wrap you in will never be able to squeeze into you all of the years’ worth of thankfulness that I can never seem to give you enough of. I could never show you enough gratitude for all of the days, months, and years full of love that you have given to me. You two have devoted so much to me, even the days that you were filled full of sleep and pain, yet were still able to take a deep breath and put in more hours for me. Nothing I ever say or give could ever match all that you two have dug so deep inside yourselves to provide for me. My five minutes of love will never be worth the billions of long hours you have devoted these 31 years to keep a roof over my heard and food on our table. So I thank you. I thank you with all that I can find inside myself. Every tear of love and happiness is meant for the two people I could never say “I love you”, to enough, so that you would truly know how much that I do. But I do. I will forever. I love you.

 

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