Briefly-


Latest Business Camp Class Photo:

modern world i'm not pleased to meet you, you just bum me out.

Thoughts on creating more of an internet presence...

Every so often I google myself to see what comes up. Sometimes i'm pleased, sometimes (like now) I'm really annoyed. I don't know how search engine optimization of a person's name works, but the other Stephie M- in Iowa clearly has a monopoly on the search engine results. Her and her damn slutty myspace pictures with her redneck looking husband and baby are really cramping my style and have reduced a once illustrious top-ten list of accolades to smut. Gone are my high school varsity tennis MVP articles, my college "Woman of Promise" award notification, my Columbia Business School directory info, and all the things that make me seem interesting and educated. So now I need to figure out a way to increase my internet presence without letting the world too much into my crazy (ie this blog.)

I feel like I gotta make a flickr or start a blog about something relevant and not solely on my inner monologues about boys and drinking too much.

But maybe it's best that I am off the map, because whatever stamp I put on the public domain is surely to be regretted later; much like my xanga and livejournal of yore. That's not to say I regret writing them- just that some things are best left personal, or only shared with a few actual friends.

Elegy for the Undead

I'm generally pretty good about letting go. Once something is definitively finished, I can pack up and move on. The only caveat is that I need to forcefully be told "Steph, it's over." The main stumbling block in my life has been holding on to things long past their expiration date, because no one has explicitly cut short my frail hopefulness. I can think of a thousand manifestations of this, but the most recent and pressing example is my ipod. This picture was taken on the day I got my faithful mp3 player:

It was my birthday my freshman year of college. Myself and three friends went to the local mall and I got the latest model- it now came in black and had a color screen! The future was now! Here's another picture of that day:



So now, it is 6 years later. Six. Years. Later. And as my intrepid little square of technology is finally giving up the ghost, i'm left wondering what else I need to close the book on. It makes me happy that I'm still really good friends with two of the people in that cluster of shot-takers. It also makes me happy that Jordan's wearing a cowboy hat, and is now living in Montana. What a prophetic photo...
What bothers me that one of the other people in this picture has abandoned me- and despite several valiant efforts of extraction- did not offer any suitable explanation. The likely cause of this rebuff is (and always will be) a new relationship. Suddenly the grass is greener on the other side, and all the silly things that used bring us together (like ripping out vodka ads from the men's magazines at parties) now are too juvenile for someone in a relationship. What really bothers me that we were so close, and I should have seen it coming, or I should been given a letter of termination and gotten my closure. But what bothers me MOST OF ALL, is that I see it coming again, with someone a thousand times more important, and there's nothing I can do about it. Frailty, thy name is new relationship.

So ipod, here's my promise to you: Although you are all scratched up, you have a dent in the bottom right corner, you no longer hold my 30g of music, your battery charge only lasts about two hours (but that's just enough time to get me to and from work), I will not let you go. I am not going to abandon you and start a new relationship with the your 120g upgrade. We've been through a lot buddy, and I have some backbone. So until you sputter out your final funerary dirge, we're in this together.

Every day from now on will be amazing

I'm gonna make it after all.

4 years of college
20 months of unemployment.
104 cover letters. Yup. I saved them all.
8 interviews with institutions of lesser repute.
3 of which being in Philly (ew).
4 months of temping
4 interviews to make it permanent
1 job secured.

T H A N K Y O U C O L U M B I A U N I V E R S I T Y!!!!!!!!!


Mary Tyler Moore and this video are how I feel about life right now. It's all amazing. Don't worry, i'll get back to being grouchy in a few days.

So, on my quest towards nirvana, I had another quintessential New York experience Saturday night. I wouldn't say it's an altogether positive one, but something I've never done in my 23 years of living in New York City.

After far too many PBR tequila shot combos,

I fell asleep on the subway and missed my stop.

Not only did I miss my stop, but I missed the next three stops! I woke up as the robot announcer informed us that we were pulling into the Briarwood station. So i had to awkwardly (and more than a bit drunkenly) stumble up the stairs and walk across to the opposite direction platform. Luckily, I had a partner in embarrassment. I momentarily bonded with a guy who did the same thing. Awesome.

So I sheepishly rewarded myself with a late night Big Mac, and that was the BEST tasting big mac of my entire life.

back with the streets I know will never take me anywhere but here.

Hello my babies!
I'm back with a vengeance.

I go through phases where I'm remiss about updating, but that's because there was nothing too notable to update about. I still have nothing notable to update about, but at least now there are things in the pipeline.

I think i've come up with my real-life self improvement New Years resolutions.
Instead of a blanket "I need to lose 15 pounds by April 1st" if.that.date.even.has.meaning.anymore.
I'm coming up with more abstract ideas to achieve over time.

The first one is to have more quintessential New York days or moments.
So often I'm feeling like I'm not making the most of living in New York City, and that I might as well be living in- well, I won't go there. There's only so much one can do about this on a grey January day when the temperature is 18 degrees Fahrenheit, but it really is an upsetting fact. So, here are my steps in achieving more quintessential New York days or moments:
1. procure employment that allows for a somewhat (perhaps a little too much) wanton spending. -CHECK!
2. procure an overpriced apartment in a trendy area and paint it vibrant colors and get a new guinea pig and name him Odin.
-HOPEFULLY SOON TO BE CHECK!
3. Start doing things outside my comfort zone and circle of friends.
-WE'RE GETTING THERE...

Yesterday was one of the most quintessential New York City days I've had in a long time and it was a bit of a wake-up call. It started out with Adam and I going to Ikea in Brooklyn, then I dropped him off and met up with Bekka, my soon-to-be-roommate for dinner and drinks, Adam and company came back too, then I drunkenly took the train over to Williamsburg to meet up with the rest of my friends. As much as I am head-over-heels about all my friends, it was really great to go out with another girl and have guys come talk to us and buy us drinks. Obviously that never happens when you roll with 4 guys...

So here's to an achievable resolution, and a new start, and making the most of the fact that I live in the greatest city in the world.

Here's a closing emo song that reflects what i'm talking about. Also, enjoy the sleeping wolf.

I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls
Soft and warm continuing
Tapping on my roof and walls.

And from the shelter of my mind
Through the window of my eyes
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets
To England where my heart lies.

My mind's distracted and diffused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you're asleep
And kiss you when you start your day.

And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you.

And as I watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you go I.

------------------------

Sometimes Simon and Garfunkel make more sense than I ever could.
Happy Christmas.
See you in the spring...maybe.

Work is there when love is gone,
Smell of coffee, break of dawn.

Hey blog, remember me? Sorry i'm a terrible contributor. I've been carrying on an elicit affair with my e-mail account, but i'm trying to avoid that right now because there's an email that I need to send that I really don't want to. Too much has happened since last we spoke, I can't possibly summarize it all, but I promise i'll try to be more diligent. That picture was taken at Columbia University, over Morningside Park at 7:25am.

Expectations are Everything

The preceeding 18 hours sum up my entire summer; nee, my entire life.

So last night, after perusing reddit and seeing a million posts about dudes needing help dating and getting girlfriends, I decided I need to start a business where I am a practice date. I'll go out with these sad sacks and give them tips on not being so creepy and let them practice actually talking to girls. Because, let's face it, i'm the nicest girl ever, a fabulous conversationalist, and I can discuss nerdy things like Magic and Star Wars, and it's high time someone else starts financing my drinking habit. But anyway, that's another post in and of itself. So i'm perusing the "strictly platonic" section of CraigsList looking to see if there's a market for my services, when suddenly this post catches my eye:

m4w28: Since the US Open men's final was rescheduled for Monday, my original friend cannot attend, I'm looking for someone who likes tennis who would like to accompany me

Now, after hemming and hawing for a while, I decided, (while talking it through ad naseum with Meg- thanks Meg!) to suck it up and message this guy. It's the men's final for fucks sake! So after a million correspondences through e-mail, gchat, and text, we both come to the conclusion that the other one isn't a serial killer or a prostitute, and agree to meet up. Now, the forecast for today called for rain, so this morning my new Indian financial consultant bff from Boston starts stressing about whether or not he should bother taking the train down if it's just going to get rescheduled again. So around 10am he apologizes and says he's just going to try and sell the tickets, because he can't take off work tomorrow if they get rescheduled again, and he doesn't want to risk coming down for naught.

I'm a bit bummed, but it's understandable. I mean the fact that he was going to just donate one ticket to a random stranger was some above and beyond kindness. So, no big deal, i'm over it. Then at like 3:10pm he gchats me and says he was unable to sell the tickets and it's a shame for them to go unused, so here they are, I should use them. So after freaking out and jumping around for five minutes, and profusely thanking this guy, and accepting his friendship on facebook, and promising to buy him several beers or a reasonably priced meal (hope he likes tacky Russian lunch specials) if he's ever in NYC, my dad and I shag ass to the Billie Jean National (not regional) Tennis Arena. So then at 3:45 (we're 10 min away) I get a call from the kid. Basically he goes "I'm really really sorry, please don't use my tickets, I was able to sell them at the very last minute, i'm so so so sorry yadda yadda yadda"

this was how i felt

So then I get home, and this kid continues to text me apologies that get progressively creepy and just unnecessary. Things like:
"you're really beautiful, and I hope one day I get the chance to make this up to you"
"if I were there... I would have given you a stick to beat me... I promise, If I am given the opportunity, I will make this up to you"
Because that's exactly what I want to hear. Please, bother me for 12 straight hours, pull the rug out from under me (crushing my US Open dreams) and then awkwardly compliment and hit on me. Obviously that is the quickest way to a woman's heart.

So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go repeatedly run straight into a brick wall, because that will ultimately be more successful than anything else I've endeavored to do this summer.

I wont ever ask, if you don't ever tell me

My first US Open!
You'd think being a tennis fan for my entire life, and living 20 minutes away, I'd be an Open regular, but no. Thanks mobs and beans for coming up to visit and watch some quality stuff white people like.

Brooklyn Bridge Park Pier. I'd post the picture of Kim, Roman, and I but 5 nights of drinking has rendered me hideous and bloated. Time to detox. But I still had to commemorate your visit.

Obligatory? As an Art Historian, I've studied a fuck-ton of memorials and monuments and I think these lights are always really tasteful and appropriate.

I need you like water in my lungs.

Sometimes I feel like this:




Tomorrow is September 1st. I don't know what i'll do if I don't hear from Pratt this week. It's so close I can taste it. I can visualize my Brooklyn apartment and my tree wallpaper and cranberry and lemon color scheme. I can visualize my Queen size bed and you snuggling in it. Gahhhhh.
Okay, tomorrow I stop reading old diary entries because I'm seriously driving myself crazy.

It needs to be fall.
Or at least Sam Adams needs to come out with their Octoberfest already. And Brooklyn Brewery their pumpkin beer.

Let me preface this by saying I just re-read the entirety of my livejournal (2002-2006) and am a firm believer that my depressed and mostly drunk ramblings tell a more captivating story than any of the 23 short stories that make up "Haunted" by Chuck Palahniuk. This is a book review, skip it if you want to, I could really care less. I miss school and being forced to analyze everything I digest, so deal with it, bitches.

As previously mentioned, I was really resistant to reading this guy, and now I know exactly why. The premise sounded so promising! I had such high hopes of being terrified and repulsed as 17 aspiring writers trapped in an abandoned theater became more desperate in their attempts to get out; what actually happened was much in the same vein of the novel itself. I WANTED to enjoy it, but instead I just ended up wanting to cut off my fingers and toes hoping it would make things more interesting. Palahniuk (aside from having one of the most annoying last names possible) is a really bad writer. Like head scratchingly bad. I suppose I could get used to his "staccato" style which everyone seems to praise (because they can't follow sentences with more than 10 words in them?) if it were a cohesive novel with one voice and one plot line. But this was a book with (let me repeat myself) TWENTY THREE short stories supposedly written by SEVENTEEN separate voices. I don't think Palahniuk realized this, and therefore wrote all seventeen stories with the same voice and the same style. Really? I mean at least TRY to make the seventy year old lady, the thirteen year old kid, and the forty year old man sound like seperate people. Or, if you can't do that, DON'T WRITE A BOOK WITH TWENTY THREE SHORT STORIES THAT ARE SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY SEVENTEEN DIFFERENT PEOPLE. I'm all the more annoyed at this, because in the book I'm reading now, (Snow, Orhan Pamuk) the author will occasionally have things written from different perspectives and he does it so effortlessly. The young nervous radical sounds like a young nervous radical, and the tired university president sounds like a tired university president, and the resigned poet- well you get the idea.

Next gripe. This book was touted in the title, on the back cover, in the review snippets, and even by the author himself as a ghost/horror story. Palahniuk even goes so far as to have the audacity to include an epilogue and "warning" (i kid you not, he included a warning) boasting how many people fainted when he was reading one of these cookie cutter short stories. Again, REALLY? How self obsessed do you have to be to include an epilogue where you're bragging about how good a writer you are, and how good you are at taking mundane objects and making them "horrifying". Godddd I wish I didn't spend fifteen bucks on that.

Alright, now that i'm done chiding that windbag for being so self-obsessed, lets get back to me. Re-reading my old livejournals made me realize that I should be a lot more specific in my blog. No one reads this, and the few who do, i'd probably tell you any of these stories anyway. So I'm going to start writing this knowing that in five years from now, i'm going to want to remember what's been going on.

So fear not, good readers! Tomorrow I'll get back to talking about boys and unemployment.

Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty, and meet me tonight in Atlantic City

Atlantic City is a strange place. I wish I could take pictures of the casinos because they just blow my mind. What a random random mix of people. I've never seen so much Denim and Co. by QVC in one place at one time. Nor have I ever seen so many serious looking guys who were under the impression their shit does not stink. And everything blinking and beeping and flashing constantly! Even though Harrah's seemed to be one of the most tasteful of the lot, I still would surely have a nervous breakdown if I spent more than 2 nights there. Too much neon, too many patterns, and all the noise, noise, noise, noise. So here are some pictures of our killer view. 30th floor waterside. BAM.





One thing that amazes me in casinos is how easy they make everything for you. Credit cards, cabs, and drinks are everywhere. If i bought a pack of gum, I could use my credit card and they'd smile and whisk it through instantly. If I wanted to bring my gin and tonic with me to the pool, bathroom, room, store, or all you can eat buffet, no one would bat an eyelash. Really really crazy these casinos. I'm quite glad I got to experience my first (and presumably last) Jersey Club. Here's Murmur(?) at the Borgota (in the best possible light):

laugh until we think we'll die. Barefoot on a summer night. Never could be sweeter than with you

In junior high and high school I would read non-stop. I would go to the library weekly and devoured all the classics. Even in college, when my time was spent reading endless amounts of scholarly writing, I still occasionally found the time to read for pleasure. Once I graduated, I stopped reading. At the time I didn't really think anything of it. I made excuses of not knowing what to read, not having money to buy books, not knowing where my library card was (or even if it was still valid) etc.
It's really crazy how complacent you can get with life and how easy it is to stop learning and just check out. It's also crazy how easy it is not to realize when that's happening. I know I talk about this all the time, but my 22nd year was pretty much spent in a complete fog. And this is just another instance of how grateful I am to have snapped out of it and started to fucking live again.


This summer I've been reading tons, and am currently in the middle of "Haunted" by Chuck Palahniuk. You can't tell here, but the cover glows in the dark!
Definitely never got into him, because he's always struck me as one of those authors (like Dan Brown) that people who don't read, read. And since I'm an elitist book snob, I didn't want to lower my standards and join the ranks of the people who live for "Fight Club" and "Choke". That being said, "Haunted" was recommended to me, and being 150 pages in, I can definitely say that I love it. Creepy creepy concept and really uniquely organized. Go read it, babies!

I'm also a glutton for punishment and just started "The Romantics" because i need a fluffy easy read about unrequited love and an incestuous group of friends reuniting for a wedding, that I can translate into my own incestuous and unrequited life and then mope about. They're also turning it into a hipster looking movie starring Katie Holmes, Elijah Wood, and Anna Paquin. And you know what, I don't care what anyone says, I love Katie Holmes. No matter how ragged she may look or what terrible movies she may star in, she will always be Joey Potter to me and therefore can do no wrong.

This is what the world is for, making electricity.

Right now i'm drinking a wonderful gin and tonic enhanced with lime and cucumber. I'm about to make Adam and I fish and chocolate cake and drink more gin. See Jordan, I can make non awkward diary-esque posts!

In other news, this cover is awesome. It grows on you. It's also 100% accurate.

This used to be a fun house, but now it's full of evil clowns.

County Fairs are very strange.

This weekend I had the pleasure (or misfortune?) of accompanying my eight year old cousin to our county fair upstate. For those who don't know, my house is in New Paltz, New York. New Paltz has a pretty liberal and laid back state university, is about 30 minutes from Woodstock, and has a bunch of stores with names like "The Groovy Blueberry" or "Endless Horizons." Basically everyone up there is either a unwashed college student or looks like this:




The Ulster County Fairgrounds are usually reserved for snobby events such as the Crafts Fair or Taste of New Paltz, but in the one glorious week a year, it serves the purpose for which is was named and houses the county fair. You would expect a sleepy liberal minded county in upstate New York to not get too excited about fried twinkies or pig races or a booth where, for $20, you can take a picture with a baby tiger (I shit you not). But the place is packed every single day with people who look like this:


Where the hell do you come from?? As a former lover of the Delaware State Fair, and someone whose been to Pigeon Forge, TN, I've seen your kind. I would expect pregnant teenagers and families with less than 20 teeth between them all down there, but really? Upstate, NY?? Do you people standing in line to get you and your baby daddy's names airbrushed on a Confederate flag tee shirt even realize how far north of the Mason Dixon line we actually are??? I certainly haven't seen your likes at "The Groovy Blueberry". Do you crawl out of the hills once a year to play whack-a-mole with the change you've scavenged returning cans?

Also, I think i've gotten too old to appreciate carnival rides. I have a massive bruise on the side of my hip from ride after ride of centripetal force pressing me into the side of some cheap glittery car/boat/dragon/apple/spaceship. Also, I needed to vomit after like the third ride, and that feeling never went away. Ugh.

my head told my heart let love grow, but my heart told my head this time no.

Ok.
It's August.
Summer of Stephie rolls on, with relative success. There's been some ups and downs, but mostly ups. But I think it's time to switch focus.
So, I declare August to be self-improvement month.
I'd be lying if I said I was going to stop thinking and obsessing over boys, but I'm going to consciously try to not make them the primary focus. I'm going to follow the advice of the graffiti on the sidewalk near my apartment and "fuck love, get $$$"
THEN lose 10 more pounds
THEN get the fuck out of my apartment,
THEN find a boyfriend

Ready.... Go!

Also,
I've figured out my halloween costume. I'm going to be:

No, not Margot Tenenbaum, I'm going full on tennis chic Richie complete with beard.
I've always toyed with the idea of being Margot, but felt no desire to look depressed and wear a fur coat, so I got to thinking about what I could be where I'd have an excuse to wear tube socks, aviators, and a sweat band, and lo and behold, RICHIE!
It's going to be so amazingly amazing. I reaaaallllllyyyy wish i'll have a fabulous apartment by then, and can therefore have a fabulous halloween party.
So, that's what my sights are now set upon.

Ready....go!

Also,
Listen to this band:

The warmth of your love is like the warmth of the sun

Things I did today that I am proud of:

1. Had to go to Toys R' Us to get my cousin a birthday present at that god awful mall on Metropolitan Ave. (seriously that place is 100% the armpit of Queens, especially now that Discovery Zone is closed down) and I didn't get a Nathan's hot dog, even though I was starving. 380 calories not added to my thighs, like a boss.

2. Purchased and started using Crest White Strips. Shiney white teefs are only 13 days away!

3. It's been 12 days since my flirty texter and atractive lovah' left for Africa and I haven't stalked his facebook NOT ONCE. Crazy effectively suppressed... for now. Of course i've replaced that urge with compulsively checking the ex boyfriend's facebook, but that's mainly so I can scoff at his feeble attempts at being hipster. If it weren't for me, you'd be living in an apartment complex in nowheresville Delaware, probably next to the Cheeseburger in Paradise.

Things I did today that I am slightly more embarrassed about, but not really, because that's me:

1. Put much more thought into my fabulous Halloween wedding. I have five years until Halloween falls on a Saturday, so I have five years to procure a willing and able husband and a backyard for the party of the fucking century to go down. Well today, I decided on my wedding song, wedding dress, and bridesmaid dresses.

Wedding dress:
Tea length is a definite, given my legs are my fav feature and because my wedding will take place in a backyard, so a long dress is just gonna get dirty. So here's a potential candidate, i'll definitely be wearing a tiny veil that goes to about my chin. Except it will be black and will have a tasteful spider adornment (It is Halloweeeeeen)

Bridesmaids Dresses:
Probably will be black or burgundy, or a mix of the two, because like I said, it will be Halloween and thus a darker fall color scheme is required. So ladies, if you're reading this and think we're friends enough that you'll be in the bridal party, start toning those back muscles. You have 5 years. You too will have a spider adornment somewhere. Don't like it? Suck it.

Wedding song:
This Will Be Our Year, The Zombies.
And/Or Monster Mash.

I'm posting this on here because there are too many good looking guys I'm friends with on Facebook, and I don't want to ruin my carefully crafted laid back, not girly girl persona by discussing celebrities there. With that being said, did you know... Will Smith has a daughter named WILLow a wife named Jada and a son named JADen? Also, Britney Spear's mom is named Lynn, and her dad Jamie and her sister Jamie-Lynn.

what the fuck is wrong with these people?


I'm going to name my children Eisley* (girl) and Sebastian (boy)
*after Mos Eisley from Star Wars (duhhhhh)

Okay more later, i just had to get that off my chest.

"It would be nice to think that since I was 14, times have changed. Relationships have become more sophisticated. Females less cruel. Skins thicker. Instincts more developed. But there seems to be an element of that afternoon in everything that's happened to me since. All my romantic stories are a scrambled version of that first one."
-Rob Gordon, High Fidelity


Truer words were never spoken. I'm 23, and I just bought a marble notebook to resume my diary that I've been keeping since the 7th grade. I just put on some old school emo music and am preparing to sit down and write down all my stories, then i'm going to get ready and shower and go hang out with my best friend. This has been an average July day for the past ten years. TEN YEARS and i'm back where I started. I went to college! I traveled the world! I was in a successful three year relationship! Where am I now? Lusting after a variation of the same person i've been pining for since I was 14. Except now instead of worrying about things like being home for curfew, I need to worry about getting pregnant or herpes. THANKS FOR NOTHING, MATURITY.