GUYS I'M REALLY JUST A FANGIRL

So. I think it's time that you and I had a little chat. There have been some... hints.  Little signs.  Of my nerdiness. I've made no secret of my nerd flag. But I don't think that you realize just how much of a nerd I am. Like, you probably figure that I have a dual citizenship to nerdworld and realpeopleworld. See, the thing is, that isn't actually true. It's more like I'm an illegal immigrant in realpeopleworld. Actually, that's a bad analogy because I don't even really like realpeopleworld all that much. Okay. It's sort of like this. Have you heard of grafted trees?  It's this thing where you can take one branch of one tree and splint it to another tree, and they'll grow together. So you can have a tree that bears two different types of fruit.

I'm like that. I'm a nerd tree with a branch or two of normal grafted on.

Me as an awesome tree. (Also why I should not be allowed to use paint unattended.)

I more or less live on the internet. I sometimes quote memes and such, hoping that somebody else will pick up on my reference. Nobody ever does. Once, in Spanish class, a friend made a humorous remark about Don Quijote. A reenactment:

Her:  Jajajajaja! Don Quijote no vesti pantalones.  El esta un loco. Penso que el esta corriendo a lejos de un burro. Jajajajajaj!

Me: LOL! HEADCANON!

Teacher: *Glare*

I also use words like "squick" and "squee" in real life. I use internet phrases, such as "WHAT IS AIR?" and "WHAT IS LIFE?" and "what is this i dont even".  I use initialisims like "brb" and "irl". I use acronyms like "LOL!" and "ROFLMAO!".  I wish very much to buy a shirt that says "DFTBA" on it so that I may find my fellow nerdfighters.

Oh, and of course I am a nerdfighter. I religiously follow vlogbrothers John and Hank Green. They are two of my favorite people ever. I mean, I FLIPPED when I saw Hank's video today. The reason? I recognized a can of soup that he held up to the camera for all of 3 seconds.

It had my name on it.

I'm also a rabid fangirl. I could go on and on about that. But I won't. Because there has been a major spoiler (or so I'm told) unleashed upon one of my fandoms about my OTP, and I must abstain. Which means that I must leave the internet and go read a book, lest I become spoiled.

Best wishes!

PS- GO WATCH THE VLOGBROTHERS!!!

This is not a request. It is a demand. 

PPS- I love you guys. (:

The Difference Between Real Life and Head Canon

This is why I don't drink energy drinks......

So, I am currently in the middle of NaNoWriMo.  I've been behind on my wordcount* all month, so I've been staying up late every night I don't have school to play catch up, because I am an irresponsible teenager who likes to stay up far later than she should.
So, last night was going to be one of my catch up nights. The plan was to stay awake and do a 5K to boost my wordcount to 35,000.  The trouble was, it was 12:00 AM. Like an idiot, I hadn't started yet. Irresponsible, remember?  So, I was getting ready to settle in to a heavy duty writing session, when my younger brother came into the study. He was carrying a Monster.

Our parents weren't home, which is how all of the best worst ideas happen. 
He walked into the study with his Monster shot, and showed it to me. I told him he was crazy. I told him. He just smiled and chugged the thing. There was some left, and he was like, "You want the rest?"
What I did next, it started this entire night.
I drank the last bit of the Monster.
It may have been just the placebo effect. Actually, it was the placebo effect at first because there's no way the caffeine entered my body that quickly. I started to feel jittery. And powerful. And so I turned to him, and asked if we had any more.
In retrospect, this was not a good idea.
We didn't have any more. I was ready to leave it at that, but my brother convinced me to go to walmart.
Re-enactment of conversation:
Brother: Let's go to walmart.
Me: LET ME GO GET MY KEYS!!!!
Now, let me remind you that our parents weren't home. And, I am not legally allowed to be out driving past midnight. But that most certainly did not stop us.

Long story short, we almost made it home undetected. But, alas, the parents were just a step ahead of us. And because my brother is thirteen and has no legitimate excuse to be awake all night, they made him go to bed, effective immideately.
I was left with a fully loaded can of Amp. And I drank it.
I ingested 142 mg of caffeine. I'm used to 30 mg in one go.
So, you can understand how I completely lost it.
This is a visual representation of how my night went:

On this one, start at the orange smiley face.

There was one point where I couldn't type effectively because my hands were shaking. There was another point when I felt like I was part of the computer chair.
Yeah. But, hey, I wrote 7,500 words last night. That's a lot for me.

*I am so engrossed by NaNoWriMo that I made that two words before I realized that on my blog, wordcount doesn't matter.

I Have Released My Inner Assertive Person

Badly Drawn Unicorn is badly drawn.


So, do y'all remember That Boy I Like?
Haha, who am I kidding? I talk about him nearly every post, of course you know who he is.

Anyway, he's actually a pansy-faced jerk. So I told him off. AND IT FELT SO GOOD.

Let me rewind.

So,  The Boy I Like seemed to like me too.

This was just one of many decidedly flirty exchanges.
But then, pretty much out of nowhere, he stopped talking to me.

This went on for a week or two before I found out why. Turns out that That Boy I Like decided that he didn't like me anymore, so he told Our Mutual Friend to pass the message on to me.
Now, Our Mutual Friend is a nice guy, but he's kind of (read: a huge) gossip. And because he wasn't sure that he should tell me, he talked to a crapton of people about it. This is where Good Friend Nick comes in.

He overheard this conversation and told me, because he is a good friend. This is when I started to get angry. Because really, not only is that a jerk move, it's also extremely infantile. I was in a rage.

So, I decided that I would tell him off. This is how it felt:

This is what actually happened:

I went up to him in the hallway and told him that next time he has something to say to me, he shouldn't send Our Mutual Friend as a messenger. His eyes got really big and he backed away, denying the whole thing. I think I scared him.
AND IT FELT GREAT.
I felt powerful, more powerful than I've ever felt. As a person who generally avoids confrontations, I never knew what a rush it was to speak up for yourself.
And now I want to do it again. If I'm talking to somebody and they say something that annoys me, I call them out on it. I feed off of the confrontations. I bask in them. I think it's a dominance thing.
But, in any case, I have decided that boys are stupid. They all have cooties. I'm just going to keep being awesome, and if ex-That Boy I Like ever comes around, too bad for him. He can just wallow in the knowledge of knowing that he missed the train on this one, thankyouverymuch.

Also, I got a 32 on my ACT. Take THAT, stupid immature high school boys.

BOYS ARE REALLY STUPID

I watched  A Very Potter Sequel. I pretty much spazzed. I don't really have anything of substance to say. I need to go type. I'm at 9,018 words and I want to get to 10,000 before bed.
Also, that guy, That Guy I Like. Remember him? Well, guess what? SCREW HIM. He is the giver of mixed signals, O Oblivious one. And I give up. I'm sick of being stuck in limbo. I didn't even like him all that much. It's not like I'm gonna cry over him or anything. It's just really frustrating. One day he's all, *SIGNALS FOR LIKING YOU* and then the next he's all, *ignore*. It got old two weeks ago, and I'm just done with it all.
It's just that I wish I could my stupid first kiss over and done with because I do not want to go to college without any experience. I swear, I am a supreme virgin. I'm such a virgin that if I went out to some place with lots of mystical beings, they would chase me to drink my blood. GAH. Really.
Although, it's probably my fault because all I do is sit in a dark study writing about people who aren't real.
Stupid boys.

Rumbleroar

Yes, yes, I know. Annie has been a terrible promise keeper. I've missed 7 posts. Eech, that's worse than I thought. But in my defense, I was in Arizona for the majority of last week, and NaNoWriMo just started. For my imaginary ghost readers who don't know, NaNoWriMo (nano) is a challenge whence a person attempts to write a 50,000 word novel in one month, i.e, November.
A short history of my nano experience:
2008: Fail at 25,000 words
2009: Win! Yay! But the novel was pure crap...
2010: OHMYGOD I'M A CRAZY PERSON FOR EVEN ATTEMPTING THIS. HOLY CRAP, WHAT AM I THINKING?!?!

I'm already behind, but I'm playing catchup this weekend, and I have to say, I've done remarkably well. I'm at 8,056 words. Gonna break into the double digits tomorrow.
Also, I lost my "A Very Potter Musical" virginity. It. Was. BEAST. "A Very Potter Sequel" is my reward for hitting 10,000.
Also, I made a pair of fingerless gloves so my hands stay warm while I type. They're pretty much epic.

Postponed

Dear readers,
This post has been pwned by the ACT, which I take tomorrow and which I am currently cramming for. Will try to post tomorrow, after my post-ACT nap.
Love,
Annie

I Want To Be a Writer

I want to be a writer. I don't want to be a doctor or a pharmicist or a surgeon. I might want to be a scientist. But I really want to be a writer.

I want to write YA novels that wind up in my school library. I want to skype with a room full of students on the other side of the world. I want to make people laugh and cry. I want to make people think.
I've had some of my poetry published, and I have written two novels. Granted, they will never see the light of day, but at this point it's really the process that counts. I could do it. I could be a writer. I could go to college and get a degree in English and never look back. I could do it.

But my parents disagree. They tell me to be realistic. They tell me that I have an obligation to the world to be a scientist, to discover things. That's true, I suppose. I do kind of owe the world for everything it's done for me. But books are important, too. They shape our minds. They make you think, and change you. It's subtle. It's slow. But the change occurs. You go from Point L to Point M, and you aren't the same. Books are a catalyst for change, and I want to be part of that process.

I don't think that my mom understands that I genuinely LIKE staying up all night writing. That my characters mean something to me. That my poetry is my way of expressing myself. I don't think she understands how much I want to like my career of choice, how much I don't want to end up hating my job. I don't think she understands that I would give up financial security to pursue writing. I don't think she understands how important writing is to me.

I want to be a writer.

IB Hell Week

Kill me. Please, just kill me. It would be the merciful thing to do. I have waaaaay too much to do this week. I'm going to have Tartuffe dress rehearsals/performaces every day this week from 6-9 pm. Then, I have the ACT this weekend. I have to research for both my EE and my HI. I have to do 3 spanish projects, and English project, and I need to start my Psychology IA soon. Then, I have just normal math, HOA, anatomy and spanish homework. Oh, and I have to make up an anatomy test tomorrow. Lovely.

But, on the bright side, I had a glorious weekend. My parents were out of town, so my brother and I had the house to ourselves. We just sat around and chilled and nobody cared. I made cupcakes and didn't clean up the kitchen until right before my parents got home. It was great.  I took the PSAT, and I think I did relatively well. After that, me and some of my friends went to waffle house.  My friend Hannah ordered like a fat man. Hannah is a skinny little white girl, but you wouldn't know it by the way she ordered. I swear, I think our waitress thought that she was pregnant. This is what she ordered:

1. A buttermilk waffle (These things are plate sized)
2. Scrambled eggs
3. A hashbrown
4. Four pieces of toast
5. A hamburger

She ate it all.

Smiles for you!

I had a wonderfully amazing day! I went to a book sale with two of my friends and I got five books for $4.25! And then we went to fazolis and got food. Also, on the way home from school, we got to yell at Brandon, which is always a good time.

Then, I went to a PSAT cram party at the tropical smoothie with my friends, and it was fun, We were the only people in the store. Then we went to Kroger. One of my friends bought some silly string and chased my other friend around the parking lot. It was funtimes.

Also, I think that that boy I like likes me too. He walked me to my History of the Americas class even though he had lunch next and my class was in the complete opposite direction. (:

Blergh.

A breakdown of my day:

Woke up. Asked mom to make me lunch. She told me to grab some soup. I grabbed some soup.
I was almost late to school. But I wasn't actually late. That was good.
In all of my classes, the lights were dimmed. It made me verrrrry sleepy.
I wanted to creep on that boy I like after school, but he was deep in the depths of the band room and the band room scares me so I ended up not creeping on him which I suppose makes me an ineffective creeper.
Jumped a friend's car.
Drove two people home. I'm only legally allowed to take one home.
I opened up my Math IA and stared at the screen.
I procrastinated.
I ran two miles.
I took a shower.
I watched Glee. It was really epic. I don't care what a certain Tyler says; I think Sam's gay.
Did my Math IA for real this time.
Now it's 12:30. I'm very tired. I'm also hungry, but I'm more tired than I am hungry, so I think I'll go to sleep now.

That's a stellar patterns. I hate them now. Thank you, Math IA.

SAY WHAT?

That's right, folks, you heard it here first: Miss Annie UNDISCLOSED LAST NAME is back! After approximately 6 months of hiatus, I will return to posting.
I'm sure all two of you will be waiting with bated breath.
The thing is, I'm an IB junior who is going to be doing NaNoWriMo next month. November is probably going to kill me. The plan for now is to post three times a week: Tuesday, Friday, Sunday.  I know, those are really random days. You're probably wondering why I'm not doing Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Well, that's because I have stuff to do on Monday and Wednesday. So I don't want to add more stuffs to those days.

Also, just to warn you, the Tuesday posts will almost certainly devolve into rants about that night's Glee. Sorry if you don't like Glee. But I LURVE it, so yeah.

Also, I'm not a rabid fangirl. I promise.

A few words on napping.

I am a high school student.  And one thing about us is that we a re chronically tired.  We rarely get the full, recomended 8 hours.  After a typical day of school, I look something like this:

By the time I get home, all I want to do is to take a nap.  I stagger upstairs to my bedroom, set my alarm, and crawl under the covers. 

Also, my bedroom is hot pink with lime green polka dots. Anyway, I'm a very deep sleeper.  I sleep long and hard.  So by the time I wake up, I am extremely disheveled and confused. I usually stare at my ceiling for about 5 minutes before I remember what time it is, where I am, or even who I am. 

I stumble downstairs and my mom starts asking me all of these questions.  I make noncommittal grunting noises in the hopes that she will leave me alone for a little while so that I can properly wake up.  And then I go play pokemon or something.

I am so stupid.

Here is a story. 

Once upon a time, there was a girl.

Also that girl is me.  Anyway, one day in class, the teacher was all, "New seating chart!" and we were all, "Blargh!" Because if there is one thing we liked about that class it was where we sat.  But teachers don't seem to understand that, so she went ahead and reorganized us. And this is how I became acqauinted with him.

He and I were placed right next to each other.  So instead of doing our work like good little chitlins, we got to talking. 

We talked about all manner of things, ranging from the zombie apocalypse to dreams to shaving. We talked a lot about shaving.  We switched back and forth from Facebook to real life, and after a while, my brain realized something. That something was, "HOLY CRAP THIS BOY IS AWESOME! LIKE LIKE LIKELIKELIKELIKE SUPERLIKE!!!1!11!ONE!!1!"

But I am not a generally expressive person, nor am I a risk taker.  So I wasn't going to say anything; nothing at all. I was going to keep talking to him and daydreaming a little and probably also do a little pining on the side. And then I would get over it. But no, apparently this time that was not a valid answer.  This is what happened:

I interrupted him to tell him that I liked him.  This is the worst part: right before I uttered that monstrosity of a statement, I thought to myself, "Annie, is this a GOOD idea?"  And my brain was all, "No, it is not."  And so I wasn't going to say anything at all. But then I did.  Becuase I am supremely stupid.  Natural selection should have smote me down right then and there, but alas the world is neither just nor fair.
I just sat there and wondered how he took that for the rest of the block.  And now I am afraid that there is going to be a Wall of Awkward between us.  And Walls of Awkward are bad for friendships.

I could just ask him about it, but I am not going to, and here is why:

1. He might have thought that that was a comment about his character
2. He might be ignoring that comment for my sake
3. It might create the Wall of Awkward
4. Also I might get rejected. I don't like rejection because it makes my stomach feel like urk and like a bunch of little unicorns are running around in there and their horns are jabbing my belly and it is very distressing.

The end.

NANANANANA DRUG GIRL!

My backpack is making a rattly noise. It's because I have a fully loaded bottle of Ibuprofen in there.  If there's one thing that I've learned since I've been in high school it's that people always need Ibuprofen. Always. But nobody ever carries it.

That's where I come in.

I swoop in with my cape flowing in the breeze with my drugs, all the while chanting, "NANANANANANANANANANANA DRUG GIRL!"  It wins me friends.

Also, people with painful ailments will love anybody with Ibuprofen. 

Some people might think that being Drug Girl is a burden, but I sleep well at night knowing that I am making the world a slightly less painful place on Monday- Friday from 8 AM-3 PM. 

Baby Zebras

Right now I am waiting for a text that is probably never going to come and listening to saddish music from "Cats".

Also, I am looking at baby zebras. 

Baby zebras may just be the cutest thing in the world. Let me make a list.

1. Baby zebras are like baby horses. Except they have stripes.
2. Their legs are all long and spindly and gangly looking.
3. Their stripes are the wrong color.
4. Their ears are too big.
5. Also they are tiny.

I like baby zebras.  They remind me of "Spirit" except that they are stripey and live in Africa. I have a certain fondness for Africa because all of the animals that live there are FREAKING AWESOME!  They have lions and tigers and leopards and panthers and cheetahs and servals and hyenas and giraffes and zebras and elephants and rhinoceroses and lemurs andandand!  I  kind of love African animals.  Australian animals are a close second, mostly because almost all of the animals from Australia are completely badass and raw.  Australian animals can eat you for breakfast.  I respect that.

Merry Australia to all, and to all a good night!

Singy Shivery Happy Mood!

I'm happy! I'm a shivery singy skippy happy.

I'm a bipolar kind of happy.

I don't really know why I'm so happy, but I am.  (:


Also, here is a dinosaur that I drew on paint:

YAYAYAY!!

Yay!! I pulled the graphite out of my finger! I feel so free!

So I was taking a shower when I looked down at my finger, and I saw a lump of blackness protruding. I was all, 'YAYAYAY! Now I won't have a foreign object stuck in my finger!' Then I reached down to turn the water off,  and OUT OF NOWHERE the showerhead fell out of the holder thingy and landed on the back of my head. It hurt. Then I put it back, and the second I turned around it fell out of the holder thingy AGAIN and hit me in the head AGAIN.

Why do these things happen to me?

Haha, but seriously the graphite was a half a centimeter long. That might not sound like a lot to you, but picture that embedded in your finger. Yeah, I know it's still kind of small. But I expect that it's sort of like a fish story; I embelish a little everytime I tell it. I figure by the time I have grandkids the graphite will have turned into some kind of legit metal and instead of being half a centimeter it will be two inches long.  Kids are gullible. They'll totally believe me. Mwahahahaha!

I hate pencils.

Today I had a bad coordination day.  I have those a lot. 

We were having a bus evacuation, and I don't know if you know how high the back door of a bus is, but it's flipping high.  The gap is taller than your average five year old. I tripped getting off of the bus and went sprawling through the air before miraculously landing on my feet. If I had any skizzles I would illustrate that point for you, but I think that you would be better off with your imagination.

Point two is much more painful and possibly scarring. You see, I am a disorganized mess. I really have no regards for my own presonal safety when it comes to my living standards.  It has caused me some grief.  My backpack is sort of an extension of that, and that is the scene of the incident. I am too lazy to put my pencils in the proper place, so I just sort of toss them into my bag on the assumption that I will find them later. This morning, I reached into my backpack to find such a pencil.  I found it. In my finger. Because it stabbed me.

I jerked my finger out, and upon further examination it seemed that some of the graphite had broken off of the pencil. In my finger. So, I did the logical thing and walked over to where one of my best friends was sitting. She was all, 'ouch'. And I was all, 'No duh'.  Then one of my guy friends offered to remove said graphite. It didn't work, so I went to the nurse. She used an itty bitty needle to dig around my poor, poor finger. When that didn't work, she said, "Well, at least it isn't toxic." She sent me off with a bandaid and told me that it would probably work it's way out of my finger eventually. It was so overwhelmingly relieving to hear that I may or may not have a piece of pencil embedded in my finger skin for the rest of my life.

Here's the best part, though. When I got back to class, a friend was all, 'Did they get it out?' And so I was like, '...no'. And then my teacher felt it fit to inform the whole class of this minor dilemma. Ugh.  Everybody was staring at me. I hate that.

Anyways, I am now thinking about boycotting rouge pencils. The only problem is that I am a nerdgirl and I kind of love pencils. But I also hate them.

ZOHMAHGAWSH INTERWEBZ!!!!111!!!!!1!ONE!!1

Enter stereotypical nerdgirl with an interest in nerdy things. Enter blog from the wrong side of the interwebz.

YAY! PREMISE!

I'm Annie.  I really hate having to make a first post, because I feel like it is important that I acknowledge that "OHMAGAWSH, I HAZ TEH BLOGZ!" But at the same time it feels a little pretentious to say anything. Also it is a first impression, which I hate. First impressions are terrible because sometimes you enter in the wrong part of a conversation and you hear a term that sounds hilarious but is actually a racial slur but you didn't know that because you were an innocent child and you giggle a little and then everybody JUDGES YOU. Ahem. But instead of being a one time thing where I leave a single person with a horribly misconstrued and unintentionally hilarious impression of myself, I'm leaving the six people that accidentally find this thing with a horribly misconstrued and unintentionally hilarious impression.  And six is more than one.

Actually, if you think about it, every post I ever make could be a potential first impression. Holy flipping crap. This means that I have to keep my typing fingers limber.  Yay for limberness.

So... yeah.

I actually tried planning this post out. Except in my mind it was a lot less awkward and a lot more awesome.

Here is a picture of a fabulous chair that I may

or may not be asking for for Christmas next year.

RAWR!