Damn, I can't believe I ever fought for the other side.

There are certain things I have done in my life that I am extremely not proud of.
Labeling myself as anti-feminist, until I came to college and educated myself on the subject,
is one of them. A huge one.

I find myself getting into heated debates, trying to convince others (of both sexes!) that, yes, they too are feminists. Or, at least, that feminism isn't what they think it is.
That's probably not the best way to approach it, but I need to get some mileage out of this soap box. (Shit ain't cheap.)

"Do you believe in equal rights for both men and women? Then you're a feminist, goddamnit..."
I like to ask prejudicial questions like this. I know it's bad. I know. BUT IT IS SO EFFECTIVE.

"No, I have never wanted to burn my bra. No, I don't know anyone else who has wanted to, either."
Like...really? I have actually had to say this. True life, ya'lls is a kind of a dumbass

"Yes, you can believe in equal rights for minorities, old people, handicapped people, people of all socioeconomic statuses, be a republican and still be a feminist."
(...Ok. Maybe not the republican part.)

"Because it's MY body, damnit."
I don't support the war, but I support our troops. My (parents') tax money supports the troops, too. So stop fucking whining about abortion already, you assholes.

Like I said, do me a favor. Go out and educate yourself before you run your mouth to me, repeating the same thing over and over and NOT backing up any claims at all. (I promise you, no one has ever had a solid argument against me. I'm not just saying this because I think I'm awesome. THIS IS A MATTER OF NAIVETY)
You KNOW I know my shit. I've proven it many a times.

So why is it that I get the eye rolls, the judgmental stares and the hateful whispers?
Because I stand up for what I believe in? For what is inherently and supposedly constituionally right?

Uh. Ok.

Alright, alright. Part of it is because I'm a judgemental, imposing cow and yadayadayada. But really. PROVE ME WRONG. THEN WE'LL TALK.

So, do some fucking research and stop giving feminists--and yourself (take that in whichever way you wish to interpret it)--a bad name.

I'm angry and really like not studying
I promise I'm not a huge bitch I just don't know how to fight in a friendly way
Maybe I help make feminists look bad, I don't fucking know

WHATEVER SUCK IT

For the first time in months, I feel genuinely happy.
I feel normal.
I feel good.

I missed feeling this way. It's nice to be back.
You may now continue your regularly scheduled programming of Stephanie-free Livejournal posts.

This is probably where it ends, dearest Livejournal.

I've had this thing since I was 15, I think.
I'm rereading every entry, remembering every feeling I've had since I was 15.

I got this thing because of Stella. That should indicate how much emotional attachment I have towards it.

Every change that I've ever endured can be clearly seen through every entry since July 6th, 2005. It can be seen through the way that I've written; the subjects I've discussed (OK, fine, general things remained the same, small minds dicuss people blah blah blah); the people who have commented on each entry the most and the music that I've listended to.

I wrote down every single landmark of my little life thus far in this stupid little online journal that went out of style maybe 1000 years ago.
I love it though. I love it a lot.

This has been one of the most cathartic releases I've ever invested in. It's also free, which means I'm automatically pissed that I might be giving it up.
I've written everything. Everything that has ever contributed to my growing-up process over the past five years.
My first kiss, my first love, my first heartbreak, theare, best friends, braces, Stella, depression, college, anxiety, my father and anything else that has ever mattered to me...big or small.

I haven't been afraid of letting my personal thoughts out. I've always written in here when I needed to, how I needed to, and I have always been able to sort out how I feel through this stupid little internet trend-of-a-website. Sometimes, what I've written hasn't been my emotions cemented in their final stages. Instead, it's been me sorting out how I feel in orger to get to what I eventually need to convey.

I have needed this for a long time. I probably still do.
This thing has documented my life basically from where I feel I really began to develop into who I am today. I'm really happy (and embarassed) to know that I have something to look back on and see a somewhat physical transition.

Maybe I need this thing. Maybe that's a problem.
Maybe I'm giving in to some other needs of mine. Maybe that's the problem.

Either way, I'm taking a break for a while. I don't know for how long. It could be a few days, a few months, a few years, or forever.

Knowing me, any semi-permanent break won't last long. I've made many of these before. This is one that I've loved the most. It's all or nothing, and we'll see how this goes.

Maybe it's not the Livejournal that I need to reeavluate. Actually, I'm certain that it's not. Either way, I need to step down for a while and let things blow over.

I love this thing. Thank you for reading, all two of you.
For the record, I choose this stupid thing over anything else.
It's all me, and that's what I've always valued most about it.

This is probably where it ends, dearest Livejournal.

I've had this thing since I was 15, I think.
I'm rereading every entry, remembering every feeling I've had since I was 15.

I got this thing because of Stella. That should indicate how much emotional attachment I have towards it.

Every change that I've ever endured can be clearly seen through every entry since July 6th, 2005. It can be seen through the way that I've written; the subjects I've discussed (OK, fine, general things remained the same, small minds dicuss people blah blah blah); the people who have commented on each entry the most and the music that I've listended to.

I wrote down every single landmark of my little life thus far in this stupid little online journal that went out of style maybe 1000 years ago.
I love it though. I love it a lot.

This has been one of the most cathartic releases I've ever invested in. It's also free, which means I'm automatically pissed that I might be giving it up.
I've written everything. Everything that has ever contributed to my growing-up process over the past five years.
My first kiss, my first love, my first heartbreak, theare, best friends, braces, Stella, depression, college, anxiety, my father and anything else that has ever mattered to me...big or small.

I haven't been afraid of letting my personal thoughts out. I've always written in here when I needed to, how I needed to, and I have always been able to sort out how I feel through this stupid little internet trend-of-a-website. Sometimes, what I've written hasn't been my emotions cemented in their final stages. Instead, it's been me sorting out how I feel in orger to get to what I eventually need to convey.

I have needed this for a long time. I probably still do.
This thing has documented my life basically from where I feel I really began to develop into who I am today. I'm really happy (and embarassed) to know that I have something to look back on and see a somewhat physical transition.

Maybe I need this thing. Maybe that's a problem.
Maybe I'm giving in to some other needs of mine. Maybe that's the problem.

Either way, I'm taking a break for a while. I don't know for how long. It could be a few days, a few months, a few years, or forever.

Knowing me, any semi-permanent break won't last long. I've made many of these before. This is one that I've loved the most. It's all or nothing, and we'll see how this goes.

Maybe it's not the Livejournal that I need to reeavluate. Actually, I'm certain that it's not. Either way, I need to step down for a while and let things blow over.

I love this thing. Thank you for reading, all two of you.
For the record, I choose this stupid thing over anything else.
It's all me, and that's what I've always valued most about it.

I'm not sure how I feel about this.

...
WHAT IS THIS MADNESS?!
This summer is shaping up to be something most excellent!

I cannot describe how truly awesome this little vacation-from-vacation (the latter being Chapman, thank you) might be.
My summer will potentially be chock-full of...uhm...what's the word for, like, having the time of your life, or somthing?

FUCK YEAH MOTHAFUCKA.
FUCK.
YEAH.

I just hope I don't jinx anything.
CELABRATORY PELVIS THRUST. RIGHT NOW.
FEEL IT.
ENJOY IT.
BE SCARRED FOR LIFE.

----*

I want to push all of my feelings aside and just be, like I have been trying to for the past three weeks. It's no longer possible, though. As much as it sucks to face matters, I'm really glad that I've been somewhat able to release the anguish and the pain somewhere other than the back of my mind. It hurts, though. It has to.

This morning I found myself humbled. I'm not the only one who has ever experienced pain. Even though I've tried my best to keep silent and under the radar, I've felt some diluded sense of entitlement. Maybe its a malignant cry for support. I don;t know.

Birthday in four days. Love on me all you want that day. Or maybe today, I dont mind.

I felt oddly placed throughout this entire weekend. Well, perhaps the entire time I've been back.
I feel like I'm inhabiting someone else's shell. It's a pattern I regrettably fall into, but I suppose to a degree it's inevitable. I guess.

It's odd. Yeahhh.
I'm having difficulties expressing why I've been so off lately. I'd assume that it'd be obvious...but I guess it's not.

...

A small variety of things have been hatching little nuggets of discomfort in my social life lately.
That's a weird sentence.
I'm keeping it. (Just so you know.) (This is a very important journal filled with very important thoughts.) (Sup.)

It's like everything is a huge gray area. I don't speak, I don't really wish to be spoken to, and I have no control. I just feel agitated.

I don't think I'm in a good place right now.
I feel stuck.

I like Modest Mouse. I like my mom.
I miss many things, people. Person.
Control.

I wish I could write how I feel more accurately, like how I used to (to a certain extent).
Now I feel like I can only tap into one emotion...and I can't even do that fully.

Useless complaint of the day:

I think I have acne scarring.
FUCK.



I like graphic novels and koolaide stolen from republicans.

"I have a theory. It's cause you're gay and retarded."
"You sounds like my mother."

This is what fucntional relationships are made of. :]