Friday, July 29, 2011

Three treatises on Love

1. You never forget your first love. You never stop loving that person/thing/concept/idea whether it's a boy in your second grade class, your stuffed cow from Harrod's, your fascination with astronauts, or the first person who dropped an L bomb you couldn't refuse.

2. Someone coined the term 'first love' to imply that there could be a second, third, fourth, or fifth. They say the sea is filled with fish for you to catch. When I look at schools of fish, they all look the same so I kind of wish they'd clarified that metaphor better, but maybe that's right - there are a whole bunch of similar fish and things will be awesome with any one from that school.

3. They wouldn't call it 'falling' if it didn't involve some tripping, slipping, cuts, and bruises. I'm clumsy.

Thursday, July 28, 2011

You've got something on your neck there...

So you got a hicky. Wearing a scarf in the summer is just not feasible. Getting to a widetoothed comb or cold spoon within minutes of the suck-bite-bruise situation might not be reasonable either. So, how do you stop a hicky before it happens and your aunt notices and asks "Whose the vampire?"? Your excuse of walking into a doorknob or burning your neck with a straightening iron is implausible. Nobody believes you.

These are groundrules for any hookup beyond age 15. Just have the willpower to shake your head, wiggle away, or redirect to a face-to-face match. Or, before you start, just say, "If you give me a hicky, I will tell everyone [insert painful insult or secret here]" That should work, if you're clever.

If your selected companero happens to be a biter and you happen to enjoy screwing with your blood vessels and looking marked like cattle, suggest hipkies, ribkies, or any other location that will hide successfully under your swimsuit of choice. If that swimsuit is a shvimkleid, anywhere is fair game. If you prefer a string thong bikini on a topless beach, you may want to reconsider if you value hickies and instead, begin to appreciate temporary tattoos.

Maybe you and your vampiric friend are better off with actual temporary tattoos. They look way more awesome anyway and come out with soap and water.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Graphics(ex)

Everytime I posted a Stef on Sex, I was asked for a picture to accompany it. This was awkward because my columns were generally non-graphic because that would bar me from getting a job and make people uncomfortable. And my mom would be reading it. (One time, I put up a picture of my nails on a keyboard, but I think that was a different hercampus article, and you'd have to have some whacked out fetishes to find that unbearably hot.)

So, how do you talk about sex non-graphically? In Easy A, Emma Stone does that. Then everyone talks about her. And then everyone makes the graphics up themselves. As a writer, it's my job to be the Emma Stone. Just get things started and everyone else can do the action-imagination piece.

I see it this way: If the good lord had wanted me to have the skills to draw pictures, he would've so blessed me. He didn't. Stick figures are hardly my forte. So, I write - I paint the image for you with words and then everyone sees things so interestingly uniquely. (Think of how it's still kind of disappointing that Harry Potter movies make the images for you - it takes the fun out of the reading and picturing it yourself. Or mispronouncing funny British things. 7 year old me didnt have classmates named Hermione.)

If a picture's worth is a k of words, I better get writing to catch up to my artistically-talented peers. Or learn to use a camera.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

FWB - reviewing a movie I haven't seen.

So I've seen No Strings Attached but I have yet to see Friends with Benefits. Partly because I'm broke. Partly because I'm busy. Partly because my mom wouldn't go with me. Partly because I can't imagine what the differences are between these two films.

Mila Kunis vs. Natalie Portman.
Justin Timberlake vs. Ashton Kutcher.

Though a close friend has insisted I see FWB just to see JT's cutiepatootiebooty, I'm not sure that spending 9 dollars to see a famous behind is reasonable. Also, is buying this ticket showing support for the culture phenomenon of attempting to really just be friends with benefits?

Once you 'benefit' from this 'friend' one time, will things be the same? I think so, depending on what you do, where you are, who you're with, and how much you drank.

Also, I don't like that it's called FWB. It's a catchy acronym, and it really should be a facebook relationship as much as domestic partnership is, but all friendships should have benefits. Otherwise, you wouldn't be friends, right? Or maybe you sleep with ALL of your friends. That's your thing.

I can also guess how this ends. They likely fall for each other. Now that I feel 87% confident I know the ending, should I bother seeing it? I probably will :-)

Monday, July 25, 2011

On the Radio-uh-oh

Do you ever turn on the radio and go, ohmygawsh this song is totally about me! and then blast the music and sing along, even though you're basically tone def? I do.

But guess what, the song is not about me. or you. or probably anybody we know.
*Gasp* - Grillz was not written about my teeth!? Even after all of that middle school orthodonture? And In da club is not about The Keg of Evanston? Goodness gracious, modern music has misdirected me.

Still, hits like Friday or Ridin' Solo can add uplifting beats to the most mundane activities, like choosing a seat in a friend's car or driving somewhere by yourself.

However, I'm hard-pressed to find a Top 40 hit from the last decade that would work as a wedding 'first dance' song. Unless you're at this wedding.

Friday, July 22, 2011

Judgment Day

I talked a lot earlier about my thoughts on labels and categories and all that stuff.

Here is why judging people is bad, but I do it anyway, and you seem to think it's funny.

Bad: You never know someone's backstory that might explain why she has the biggest hair ever or he has a bizarre set of social skills or her wardrobe has not been updated since 8th grade. By judging books on their covers or based on a cursory skim, you don't know the deeper character, the rising action, the plot twists, and all that jazz.

Do it anyway: You just cant help it. You can't. Stop trying. See: Malcolm Gladwell's "Blink". Your first impression lasts. It comes from somewhere deep inside you that's locked up - you can't access it. So how am I supposed to change these intrinsic viewpoints, often amusing, that I make in a blink?

Funny: Because, since it comes from somewhere so deep inside, there is an honesty, a purity, about a judgment that it feels like a fact to you even though it's utter opinion. So when I get a greasy, slimy feeling from a bro based on his post-lax body odor or overwhelming cologne or I decide that a girl is a wanton shewolf because she's wearing a leather corset as clothing, you giggle because you might not say it, but you kinda agree.

Then again, the world needs a little more kindness, so maybe I should think twice before deciding on the smelly bro or the promiscuous girl. Since it's inate, that's really hard. But so is life.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Academic Religion

Sometimes, I think that attending a private college and following a faith are very similar. Both take up a lot of time and dollars, you can be as involved in activities as you want to, and bureaucracy abounds throughout.

You also have to invest in what you're taking part in. The investment is beyond the monetary, but rationalizes that. I'm talking about the investment of your braincells, your thoughts, and your values. By attending school, I have to convince myself that private is better than public, studying journalism has value, and education is truly priceless so 50 thou a year is actually a bargain. By attending services, I have to believe that there is value there too, whether it's community, peace of mind, or divine intervention to glorify my life. That last bit is a stretch (as is journalism's potent value :-).

Anyway, the study of things and the religion side of me came smashing into each other today when I helped out a friend by attending a lunch-and-learn discussion on Ezekiel Chapter 9. I felt like I was attending something on True Life: I'm a Bible Belter.

As we went through an awesome discussion about a prophet having a dream about a city and a people being destroyed by 6 angels and the symbolism of all of it, I thought about why studying bible is so interesting. You could approach it from a purely literary perspective, but you'd lose so much of the faith-based interpretative meaning, the spirit of it. You could also approach it with complete faith and no questions, and then you'd lose the literary richness of it.

I'm anti-academia and I'm anti-fanaticism. So, as I posted way way way long ago, I think it's all about staying balanced, normal, and understanding of the happy medium. Making no grave judgment calls and trying to draw the best from the text, while keeping doubt and questions central to your reading.

Deep conclusions like this make a work day feel extra-productive.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

The Soccer Mom Diatribe

I want to be a soccer mom when I grow up.

How antiquated! How lowly! How ungrateful of such opportunities! Some (probably most) would be shocked to hear that I do not aspire to a fifty-plus year career doing something professional in an office where I make big money doing something I am incredibly passionate about.

Though the idea of extended parenting leaves and more flexible workplaces is a lovely one, I’m not sure the money-thirsty corporate world will succumb to the pressures of giving people paid time for not doing work. Especially when the labor market is decently tight. Realistically, I personally do not imagine a peace of mind balancing a serious big-time career with 2.5 children and a dog, living in a nice suburban home from where I drive my future minivan around, go shopping for groceries and run the PTA. This movie-perfect vision, totally flipped from the future woman-professional portrait we are attempting to paint, is what I strive for, where I see myself in about 15 years. It’s that soon.

Seeing my life on this fast track to fulfilling my maternal instincts, I’ve been super-professionally minded for a while now. I meet with course advisors to count out my credits, I overload courses, I go to networking events. Once, I organized all of my classes on a Tuesday/Thursday rotation so I could intern at two different companies during the week. I am determined to graduate a little early with a major and two minors and a stacked resume.

I want to make the most of my time in the real-world. At a go-see with the owner of 7 NYC bars, I got a refreshing piece of surprising advice. If you know what you want to do, just go ahead and do it. You don’t need grad school (and those student loans) for a lot of careers.

I plan on writing. Whether its brochures or a New York Times bestseller, I’ll be pretty happy. Though print media might be going out of style faster than Myspace, people will always need to communicate and writing is a key means of achieving that.

The awesome thing about writing is that you can work really hard writing for a corporation’s PR department or a non-profit’s website or a newspaper’s daily edition. The opportunities seem endless. Or you can freelance. If the doors were not open in the professional world, freelancing provides the opportunity to create whatever size and shape of ‘door’ you want to.

So, I can work full-time for 10 years. I can settle down and have kids and freelance for 25 years. And then, I can get back to you in a bit about what’s after that. By then, I might want to go to culinary school or become a biologist or a ballerina or an astronaut or queen of the universe. Though I have the next step planned out (graduate and get a job writing somewhere for something), I am open to the endless possibilities I can continue to create for myself.

While the work of organizations like Ms. Goldenhar's at Advancing Women Professionals is absolutely phenomenal, the power to create our own futures is in our own hands, minds, and hearts.

No matter what you do, I think you should go full-speed ahead.

(written in response to a talk on Gender and the Workplace with Didi Goldenhar. Check out her work at http://www.advancingwomen.org/ or understand the term 'soccer mom' on Wikipedia)

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Jeans

Why are designer jeans made for really really really tall people? I could hypothetically work out to get to a size 24 but I can't diet to be 5'9". Props to the great American classic consumer experience, GAP on making 'short' length jeans, still a little long for me at the average American female height, but close enough.

Monday, July 18, 2011

Collective bargaining

The process known as collective bargaining may have begin with trade unions rising to prominence in the nineteenth century but now, skilled laborers or lazy students, we're all collectively bargaining our tushes off each day.

I open my inbox each morning and start with about 15 emails. LifebookerLoot, GiltGroupe, Groupon, JDeal, LivingSocial, Dealfinder - I'm crazy for this stuff yet I've never actually bought a single 'deal.' Still, this new consumerist idea might be the kind of market jumpstart the economy is looking for.

Point being: I get these emails so I can fantasize about cheaply living the life from halfprice car washes or drinks at some swanky bar to liposuction and keratin or a week in Cozumel. The thrill of getting a good deal combined with belonging to a crowd - undeniably powerful... so why have I not bought a deal yet? See: Bank account balance.

Friday, July 15, 2011

Friday, Friday, Gotta get down on

Friday.
Which song is better catchy annoying though? Perry's mockery of Black's? Unsure.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Monthaversary

So many cute little couples think they're so adorable writing "happy anniversary, baby. I love you!" on Facebook and then I look at that stupid addition of the anniversary function below relationship status and I think, it's not even your anniversary.

That's because the English language is forever morphing and people are continuously disregarding all construction of lingual history. Look at it: anni. It means year. 7 months is not a year. 2 months is not a year. 6 months isn't even a year.

So, I've decided to call them monthaversaries instead. It won't catch on because it sounds dumb. Kind of like when Regina tells Gretchen that 'fetch' won't happen. But, quack is a weird word in English (comes from dutch, see below) and that caught on. So then again, maybe 'monthaversary' will.

I absolutely think you should celebrate every minute of your time together. It's cute. It's nice. I'm glad you're happy. Really. But just know you're defiling the language you claim fluency in each time you declare a month nonmultiple of twelve to be an 'anniversary.' Pretentious discourse over.

*It should technically be mensiversary, but that reminds me of Mensa puzzles, which frustrate me and it also reminds me of that time of the month, which is clearly lingually relative too. Words, words, words.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Stef on Storytelling

There's a reason my blog is NOT called that.
I'm not the worst storyteller. I'm also no Lou DelBianco, who came to junior congregation ever Rosh Hashana to tell the sound-effect-filled dynamic stories of animals doing silly things not at all related to Judaism. Beth El, Italian storytelling as prayer since the 90s.

It's a tough-y because writing is storytelling. You're always relaying some story. It can be a fairytale dreamt by a disillusioned captured princess (me) or a vague overview from a jaded journalism student (me) or a catchy, kitschy anecdote from a friend (of mine), but its a story and I get to give it a voice.

I would never ever want to be Lou DelBianco when I grow up. I'm just not good at whinnie-ing or quacking (The word "quack" derives from the archaic word "quacksalver," of Dutch originm, spelled kwakzalver in contemporary Dutch - Wikipedia). But, I do want to tell the written type of stories.

The ones I haven't really gotten to that often on here. See 'stolen shoes' for a sample.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Harry Potter Fails.

Once upon a time, my dad went to London and brought back a burberry hairtie which I'm still mad I lost, and another awesome gift: Harry Potter 1: English edition, before it came out in America.
Despite my early privilege, I stopped at Book 5, page 20. It was a huge book. I got distracted. I never went back.
I may feel like a muggle (or worse, a deatheater) in a sea of peer wizards but that's okay. Except for tonight.

Am I the only person not attending a midnight premiere and in fact, not planning on seeing the movie at all?
I haven't seen the 7 part 1, so this would be like just reading from the middle of the book or straightening half of my hair or eating just the seeds in the watermelon. Flavorless, useless, and non-substantive. I'm better off eating seeds - watching this movie would not grow a watermelon in my stomach. I would just be totally confused.

Ultimately, I don't feel left out too much. More like a cultural anomaly.

Monday, July 11, 2011

On Stef on Sex

Dear readership,

Stef on Sex is merely on hiatus. It's so fun to write and even more fun to hear that some of you read it. Maybe equally fun - I really enjoy the writing part. Or ranting. Whatever you want to call it, Stef on Sex really helped me define a potential career, explore the Carrie Bradshaw lifestyle sans all the shoes and sexcapades, and get FBlikes from people I never spoke to. This blog does not have the same (sex) appeal, but I think it has the potential to be fun.

I'm just struggling with what to say. Maybe I should go back to just sexual innuedos, cutesy puns, and other laughables?

yours,
me

PS. Slurpies. Free today (7/11). I don't really like them, but maybe you do. Functions well for mixing other fun liquids, I've heard.

Friday, July 8, 2011

A Penny For Your Thoughts

I will literally give anyone who gives me (positive) feedback a penny. This largely holds symbolic value that I really genuinely care if you are reading this. It's also funny to say that I gave you a penny for your thoughts.

I decided to dedicate a lot of my blogging to finding stuff out. (Stef on Stuff. get it?).
So I am going to talk a lot more about the blogging industry, why blog (or why not), and all that and a whole lot more so you can be an informed blog reader.

Originally, I was going to do that now. Instead, I'm just going to look up the origin of this titular saying.

First finding: There is an episode of the Twilight Zone called "A Penny for Your Thoughts" which involves telepathy, business corruption, adultery, and a man named Hector. Irrelevant.

Second finding: An Englishman named John Heywood in 1546 first documented the phrase in a catalogue of sayings he put out, according to The Straight Dope (and probably other more official academic sources). He wrote in funky English with strange vowels. TSD brings up that a penny then is so not a penny now.

So, maybe I should be giving everyone who comments 50 bucks? I don't think so.
After all, it's not the penny, but the thoughts that truly count.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Apathy and the History of Stuff

I've been told my generation is apathetic. Sometimes, I think we are too. Then I try to tell myself I am not so apathetic. Then I realize I kind of am and so is everyone else I know.
So, I'm trying this new thing where I take advantage of chances to learn because I don't want to be the opposite of apathetic without the knowledge to support it.

So I'm going to start blogging about the History of Stuff, which will soon be the bulk of the content of Stef on Stuff, rather than my personal nothings that usually don't concern you. Whatever - it's better you're here than looking at someone's photo album on Facebook, especially since you haven't talked to them in 10 years and might never see them again. This blog is probably mildly more intellectually stimulating, adding the same degree of meaning to your life as iPhone Scrabble with your sorority sister you aren't really friendly with. Awkward bonding - I already feel the love between me, aimless writer, and you, anonymous reader blossoming on this warm summer day.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Cupcakes

I used to think cupcake boutiques were the most absurd thing ever. I still think so, actually. $3.50 for a cupcake?

I am a poor college student. So, since I love free stuff, I'm 100% addicted to Sprinkles.

A good friend shared a little secret with me that offers me a free cupcake EVERY day. This has become the highlight of many an intern's day here at my office because the free cupcakes are a great afternoon 2-block stretch. Any calories potentially burned on the stroll are regained a thousand-fold.

For the first week, we ate cupcakes everyday. We have since suffered cupcakeburnout, an under-researched stress illness caused by simultaneous heatwaves, sugar highs, and frosting overloads. Now, we go more infrequently, but it's impossible to pass up a try of a chai latte flavor or chocolate-frosted banana cake. It would be a shonde not to eat them.

I've decided that in exchange for all the free cupcakes, I will have a cupcake-tower wedding cake. Which will likely be very expensive, but quite efficient for distribution to my hundreds (or thousands?) of guests. This will also require that I marry someone.

For now, I will continue to just enjoy my free intern cupcakes.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

The summer that NYC got pregnant

Everyday I walk the same 11 blocks at 8:45 AM and 5 PM. And everyday, more and more baby bumps pass by.

I started counting them or guessing how many months or if she is married to the babydaddy to make it a game but truly, I'm concerned.

It appears as though this is an epidemic, an infectious disease, carried through the air of epic proportions. There is just no way that this many women are pregnant by choice during this BOILING summer in New York City. My heart goes out to their swollen feet and ice cream desires, worsened by the heat on their walks up and down Park and Lex, where I view their plight daily.

It's contagious. 2011: Summer of the stork.

Friday, July 1, 2011

Haiku Season

I wrote many long
blog posts in a week but now
I am retired

To haikus because
I simply do not have so
much to say for now.

PS. Remember that time the year was halfway through?