Exercise #191 - Pretty, Pretty Turquoise

What things are turquoise? Make a list.

Stefers the Great Factoid: Turquoise is my absolute favorite color. Hands-down. I don't know what it is; there's something so calming, yet so vivid about it. It's almost like it has some sort of secret, like it's saying, "The blue part of me implies demureness and quietness, but the green part suggests fervor and vivacity." Love it.


1,2,3, GO!

Exercise #190 - Into the Forest

They were told that the only way to make it safely through the forest to the city was to stay off the path. So they entered the forest where it was thickest... Keep writing.

Ooh! I like this one already! Let's get started, shall we?


1,2,3, GO!

Remember Those Parking Tickets?

Nearly a year ago (holy crap, was that really a year ago??), I posted about how the Traffic Warrant Division of Davidson County was trying to gobble up my savings like the money-grubbing jerks that they are. I sent a strongly worded letter requesting that they lift the charges that they were levying against me, and that was that. I didn't hear anything after that.

Until...

Earlier this year, I received an angry phone call from my mother, informing me that a police officer showed up at my parents' door with a warrant. A warrant, folks.

This Made Me Giggle

HAH!

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

Peace.

Stef.

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

I'm 25 years old.

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

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

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

I've got a load of time, right?

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

Seriously, guys. I about lost my shit.

Exercise # 189 - Up & Down

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

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

BUT!

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

1,2,3, GO!

The Women Who Stay

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

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

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

Let us just suppose that all of this is true.

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

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

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

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

Well, crap.

He's home.

...

Wait, why is he home?

Exercise #188 - "Ten Years Younger Than Yourself"

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

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

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

1,2,3, GO!

Beyonce Just Isn't My Thing

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

Honestly, I don't get it.

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

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

until now.

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

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






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

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

Peace.
Stef.

My Italian Summation

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

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

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