Do you ever get the feeling that no matter how hard you try at something, you'll never be good enough? No matter how many times you tell someone something, they'll never believe you? You try. You really, really do. You give all you can. You try to balance out all the aspects of your life. But no matter what, no matter how much you give up or how much you try to satisfy everyone, you can't make everyone happy. And then you get stressed, and you think about it all the time, but you can't think of a solution. You tell someone something over and over and over again, but they don't believe you. They'll never believe you. So why bother? What's the point?

Or do you ever try so hard to see someone, even though they don't seem to have the time of day for you? You've known the person for years, consider them one of your closest friends. But for some reason, they don't seem to care anymore. Again, you try. You give them a call, you send them a message, but nothing seems to work. You begin to grow apart, and no matter what you try, you can't seem to get the person to respond. To make the time for you. Even though you're only five minutes down the road. And it hurts your soul to know that you're doing all you can, but it's just not good enough. It's not good enough to save a friendship that means more to you than the world.

Damn it, there's only so much a person can take. And it's just not fair.

In other news, I saw Mel Brooks' Young Frankenstein tonight. I highly recommend it.

I HATE Apple. Hate it. Hate it, hate it, hate it.

A couple days ago, I started walking after school. I tried running, but realized I'm way too out of shape for that, so, for now, I'll walk--3 miles total, from my apartment to Five Points in Athens and back. It helps if I have upbeat, fast-paced music because I figured out that I walk at the same tempo of the song (thank you, marching band). To make my walking easier and more fun, I made a "work out" playlist in iTunes to put on my iPod. I plugged in the USB cable to add the playlist to my iPod, and... nothing. Even though my laptop recognizes that my iPod is connected, iTunes doesn't. It won't pop up under "devices", won't do... anything.

So, I turned to the internet. I tried all they suggested: I reset the iPod, put it into disk mode, uninstalled and reinstalled iTunes, restarted my computer, all of it. And still, nothing. I've looked all over the Apple website, and none of their suggestions worked. So, finally, I decided to talk to customer service, and that was just the cherry on top.

YOU HAVE TO PAY TO TALK TO SOMEONE ON THE PHONE.

I apparently do not qualify for free phone support, so for the small price of $29, I can purchase a single incident plan so I can just talk to one of their illustrious Apple Experts. Gee, I didn't realize how important their time must be!

So, I'm going to have to drive down to the Apple Store at the Mall of Georgia--about an hour away. If they tell me I have to pay to have it looked at, I'm going to take a rusty spoon, scoop someone's eyeballs out, and crush them. Then, I'm going to pour salt into their eye sockets. And you know what? I'll enjoy every blessed minute of it.

This is Frankfurt and Beanerschnitzel. Also known as Frank and Beans (Frank is the all orange, and Beans is the white and orange fluffy one), my roommate's new kitties! She brought them to live with us at our apartment, and they're adorable. Best part--I get to live with kitties. I get to play with kitties. I get to watch kitties as they do all their ridiculously cute kitty-like things. But do I have to clean the litter box? Feed them? Give them baths if they jump in a cake or dip their paws in paraffin wax? No. No, I do not. And that is what makes the kitty-roommationship absolutely fantastic.

Other than our new house guests, not too much is new. Randa has decided to de-sister from our sorority, leaving me alone to handle the pledge babies. I'm taking over her position as Pledge Educator, since I was the assistant last semester. What does this mean? I get to babysit the new girls for ten weeks, from day one until they are initiated. I don't particularly want to be the Pledge Educator, but I'll be damned if I work under someone new, who's never done any of this before. So I'll step up, but Miranda gets to hear all about it--every complaint, every time I need to vent. I think of it as a condition for her scurrying off.

Also, I think I've found where I'm going to live next year. It's a townhouse, 2 bedroom and 2.5 bath, which will be nice because then when someone comes over they won't all have to parade through my slightly messy bedroom to get to the bathroom. Instead, there will be a separation between public space (downstairs) and private (upstairs). Not to mention the HUMASSIVE bedrooms. And patio. And storage shed. And front porch. It also happens to be less than what I'm paying now, and... even better... lacking a certain someone who's name starts with an E and is currently sharing my apartment.

Let's see... anything else to report? The Boy and I are having dinner tonight. I felt like making myself chicken, and then I realized I felt like having an actual meal tonight (as opposed to something that I throw together at the last minute), with baked potatoes, bread, green beans, and dessert. It's not fancy, but it's more of a meal than I usually make myself. I figured since I was cooking all that for me, I may as well cook for him. We also both realized, while at the grocery store, that today is our one month anniversary. One month, I know, not a huge deal, but hey, it's a reason to celebrate. Here's to hoping that I don't poison either of us!

What's new with you?

So.. my blog has apparently been un-commentable for a while. Sorry guys! I got bored one night and changed the layout, but I don't have any idea what I'm doing in HTML, so I didn't know the comment part didn't work. Therefore, I have changed it back, and I believe everything works? Please feel free to leave me any comments you wish on the things I've posted since the HTML debacle. I promise to read and respond to all of them!

In other news, what you see above is my fancy schmancy new phone. I realized, when I went to take a picture of it, that my camera is in my car, and therefore too far away for me to go get. And, since I can't take a picture of my phone with my phone, I googled to find a suitable replacement. Mine has a red gel case on it (although I'm getting a blue one, with flowers! soon). It was a sad day to switch from the RAZR, but hey! I can get internet on my phone now! And the touch screen is actually really easy to use.

Also, Happy New Year! I haven't made my list of resolutions yet, so my official "Yay, it's 2010!" post will have to be next time. This was mainly an apology for not allowing you, my wonderful readers (all 11 of you), to comment.

This year for Christmas, I got a new phone. It's one of those fancy touch screen things, along with unlimited internet, texting, and calling, and I'm ridiculously excited about it. However, getting a new phone means leaving an old one behind--my beloved pink RAZR.

I got my RAZR on my 18th birthday, October 4, 2007. The very first picture I took on it, one of my car, which had been decorated by my friends for my birthday, that night after band practice, is still on it. Looking back to then, I realize how far that phone has taken me. It's something I usually take for granted, a way to communicate with friends and family. But it has been there for EVERYTHING in the past two years. My senior year of high school. Senior prom. Graduation. My first year in college. My first job. My first apartment. Best friends. Break ups. My phone knows me better than anyone on Earth, and for some reason, getting a new one feels like I'm not only upgrading service, but moving on with my life. I'm literally starting a new chapter of my life, along with a new decade.

A by-product of getting new phones (and new service) is that my dad will be getting rid of our home phone number--the same number we've had for 16 years. It has taken me through my entire life in Gainesville, which is all the life I can remember. It's funny how something as simple as a telephone--or a telephone number-- can be so attached to an identity. Giving up our home phone number means my parents are already pulling up roots, getting ready to move on with their lives and out of the house that I will forever know as my home. That thought is possibly one of the most saddening thoughts to contemplate, because I absolutely hate change. It scares the hell out of me. Will I ever find a new home? Or will I come back 20 years from now, when some other family with some other little girl is living in my house, and feel like something is horribly wrong with the world because my key no longer works there?

So why should I get so emotional over something as simple as a cell phone? It feels like I'm leaving behind a piece of myself and entering a frightening new world when I really want to run back home. Am I excited to have the internet at my fingertips at all times? Of course. But my little pink phone is a small part of the happiness I felt in high school that I always carried with me. It saw many late night calls to Miranda, my best friend, who would talk with me for hours about nothing at all. To my mother, either as just an update on my day, good news about grades, or sobbing and needing to hear Mom's comforting words. To Dad, just to see how he was doing. To Nana, as a "happy day" call, so she wouldn't feel lonely.

Now, I'm not saying I'm not happy now. I love the college life. Sure, I miss my parents like crazy when I'm there, but I have lots of friends and a new boyfriend to keep me company. What I mean is that life was a lot more simple two years ago. I saw my 5 best friends every day. After school, we would hang out in the parking lot, at McDonald's, in the band room, or wherever two or three of us happened to congregate. I miss having a support system that strong, one that was built on years and years of friendship. And that is a kind of carefree attitude that I don't think I can ever find again. I watched a video of our halftime show from junior year and got incredibly nostalgic for those days and fun I had in them.

One thing that I'm determined to take with me, on my new phone, is this text message, saved for over a year and sent by my very best friend: "I love you too, man. And I'm not only glad you're in my life, but grateful as hell." Like my phone, she's been there just as often--although fortunately, I'm not leaving her behind anywhere.

Well, this is going to be a relationship post. It's not so much for other people to read, but for myself. So here we go.

I finally found him. The boy I mentioned in my last post and I have hit it off--we are "together", Facebook official and all. And, to be honest, I'm ridiculously happy and terrified at the same time.

With Boy, I feel like I've found something different--a person who cares for me exactly the same as how I care for him. He's not dating me because he's bored. I'm not forcing something to happen that has no basis. He likes me. Me. Not someone I've pretended to be, not some persona that I put on to try to make him fall for me. Just plain old Stephanie. And for someone with a lot of insecurities, it is a balm for a sore heart that has been rejected ten times more than it has been accepted. He doesn't seem to care that I'm not 120 pounds, blonde, and gorgeous, like so many of the girls in Athens are. He thinks (or so he has told me) that I'm funny and sweet and cute, just the way I am. After years of looking, I've finally found what I've always been looking for, and to top it off, I can't help but smile when I think of him.

On the other side, now that I have him, I'm scared of losing him. I've never really had a relationship before, just a lot of dating--what if I do something wrong? What if, after everything, I somehow drive him away?

So, I have good news and bad news. First the bad news.

On December 5, 2009, Mr. Wiggles died. He had a respiratory infection due to stress and being too cold (I left him at a friend's house over Thanksgiving, and it didn't go well). The vet told me he would be fine, but by Saturday afternoon he was lethargic and unresponsive. He passed on the way to the animal hospital. While I'd only had him a few months, I became attached to him. He was the first and only pet who was completely mine-- I bought him, paid for all his stuff. He was my companion in my first apartment, and kept me company when I felt alone or frustrated with my roommate. He was the first thing I saw in the morning and the last I saw at night. It broke my heart to lose him, and I didn't realize the full extent until I came home last night and saw the empty hole where his cage used to be. No matter what happened in my life, he was always a cute, sweet presence when I felt distanced from the people I love or stressed out from one too many papers. I miss him, I love him, and I only wish I had taken him to the vet a few days sooner. RIP Mr. Wiggles.

The good news is that I met a boy. I like him, and he seems to actually be interested in me--I'm not the one doing the pursuing. I can be myself around him, which is another big plus. He also happens to go to UGA and live in my hometown, which is ridiculously convenient. I don't have my hopes up quite yet, but I like where this is heading. My mom always told me something would find me when I least expected it--maybe this is it.