Something new? A real blog?

Two o'clock in the morning and what am I doing?

Talking to my mother about my pot-smoking habits in Hawaii and not sleeping.

You would think that would be an awkward conversation but it really wasn't. I was honest; what do I have to be ashamed about? Besides, the conversation before that really was a whole lot of awkward. For reasons I will never try to understand my mother talks about sex a lot. She has no shame. I, on the other hand, do not feel that sex is a topic of casual conversation with one's mother, especially when the terms "statutory rape" and "carnal" are involved.

You can put the pieces of that uncomfortable puzzle together and figure out what she was getting at. 

In other news, I know I should be sleeping right now. And I know I should get up early and do all my homework, but there are just not enough hours in the day. Lately I've had this undying urge to pack some of my things up (mostly clothes, books, water), convince a couple people they love me more than their lives, hop in my car and GO. Due to my recent run in with a lack of motivation and more time spent thinking about how relatively pointless living is, its been getting harder and harder to pretend like I care about things that I'm expected to care about, namely this semester of school. In all honesty, I can't stand this semester of school. It's been nothing but horrible (academically) and I really just feel like it was a huge waste of my time. I know this is the part where I should be motivated to get my shit together and do well, but really, I feel like I'm already doing this bad may as well finish it out. I'm kind of hoping I get my act together sometime soon because I can't afford to do bad in school. How embarrassing. Seriously though, if I weren't already knee deep in student loans I can't pay for I would be flying down the highway on some random road to nowhere. That's what life should be. Not school. Not money. Not careers; going. Life is about going and doing, both of which I only had a taste of. I crave them both again. Can we please run away?

painting, panting, clenching, clutching.

I'm not usually so self conscious about what I put on here but for some reason I have this insanely overwhelming feeling that no matter how cryptic I am, someone is going to know what I'm talking about. So I'm going to paint a picture instead. 

My picture is going to be painted in a paragraph or less. It's a paint by words and there aren't very many colors to it, just a lot of reds and oranges and pinks. The first step to seeing my picture is to imagine the most beautiful sunset you've ever seen. Now take that sunset and set it against the blackest hills you can imagine and take a snapshot of what this sunset looks like at it's purest and  most beautiful moment. The ratio of orange-red and black has to be just right. Now imagine yourself somewhere high up, watching this sunset and doing something that puts you at ease. Are you holding someone's hand? Are you wearing a certain jacket? Are you there with a group of people or are you alone? Whatever it is, imagine it. Feel it. Now take another snapshot. Next, I need you to imagine you are somewhere you are completely comfortable being holding that last snap shot in your hand. You're looking at this picture and you're remembering that feeling from that moment. Everything should be orange-red, black, comforting, and warm. Finally, the last step to seeing my picture is to close your eyes and take a very deep breath while clenching your fists. Hold this breath in for a second while you imagine that picture. Now exhale slowly while unclenching your fists as your breath leaves your body.

And that, my friends, is a masterpiece. 

In an attempt to avoid a ridiculously annoying blog about a ridiculously annoying subject, I'm going to talk about meaningless, inconsequential things like hiccoughs and itchy eyes. It just so happens that I have both the hiccoughs and itchy eyes and as annoying as they are I am not wishing them away because they're turning out to be a change of topic.

But still, I want to tell you how convinced I am that I am no longer living in reality. It's as though different elements of every book I've ever read have fused together to create this insanely overwhelming non-reality. I can't lie, either; it's insanely awesome. I kind of wish I could send out a few invitations to my little non-reality I'm in over here but I realize how ridiculous that might sound:

Dear You,

You have been cordially invited to Stephanie's Spectacular Non-Reality where you're only one wardrobe away from sword fighting with vampires and holding hands with dark lords. Your presence would be greatly appreciated, and if you intend on visiting don't forget to bring your sleeping bag and finest dress robes for a grand ball inside a floating ball room(glass slippers and rose-colored glasses optional).

Send your R.S.V.P with the faerie included with this invitation. 

Yours in one way or another,

Stephanie.

But then again who wouldn't want to come visit?

Anyway, these hiccoughs have yet to cease and on top of being itchy, my eyes are heavy. I can't believe I'm so hesitant to finally end the day.