Things I’m Sorry About
- That I haven’t taken down Big Celery and people are still pushing its agenda and putting it in otherwise perfectly good foods.
- That, upon re-reading an email I sent yesterday that was supposed to put someone in their place with righteous indignation, I discovered that what I had actually written was pretty mild-mannered and polite.
- How, for the first time ever, a post on this blog does not contain a single list.
Things I’m Not Sorry About
- Writing headings that end in dangling prepositions.
- The trailer for my new YouTube channel, Life and Steph. Oh, look! There it is, right at the bottom of this blog post. How did that get there?
- How I tricked you and this post had two lists in it the whole time. Oh-ho-ho. That Stephanie. What a card.
I’m going to tell you something and I need you not to laugh or roll your eyes right away. Give it a couple of seconds, ok?
I’m starting a YouTube channel.
I SAID DON’T ROLL YOUR EYES.
I know what you’re thinking. Believe me, I’ve been thinking it, too. Repeatedly.
You’re not going to believe this, but I used to be socially awkward. It’s true. I used to be so self-conscious of everything I did that I could barely function in polite society. Parties were hell. Small talk was the stuff of nightmares. Forget networking — I couldn’t say my name without choking on my own spit.
Oh, hang on. Did I say I used to be awkward? Oh, this is so embarrassing. What a terrible typo. What I meant was that I am currently, at this very moment, flailing around feeling weird about everything. It’s how I am and I’m never going to change. My obituary will read, “Stephanie died as she lived. In extreme discomfort, not knowing what to do with her hands.”
I have a friend who everyone loves.
She has a polarizing personality, but whether people worship the ground she walks on or hate her stinking guts, they remember her years and years after she’s left their lives forever. I know this because I regularly take very scientific polls on the matter.
Last summer I came down with a mean case of Why-Certainly-I-Read-Classic-Literature-itis and I cracked open Anna Karenina. I went into it sure that the 10,000 Russian names, many of them variations of each other, would be too much for me, but I came out the other side a little shell-shocked. Mark my words, that Tolstoy fellow is going places.
There are a lot of important lessons in Anna Karenina. “Wow, tuberculosis is bad,” for example, and, “Perhaps we could all be more careful around trains.” But the one thing that really affected me is how every single main character is trilingual. They switch between Russian, French, and English without notice and no one ever says, “Hold up. I actually only speak one extremely complicated language.”