This is me blogging.

It's nothing you haven't seen before. I sit down at my computer and prepare to hammer out something that will end up taking the shape of a decent blog post. I complain a lot to whoever I'm talking to through the glory that is the Internet (sometimes through random punctuation that has no meaning to anyone but me, like this charming message I sent to Erin: ...!? ;;;;; && ^ : ) : ) ^^ ). And then eventually I get over it and write.

Christmastime is fast approaching, you know. In fact, there are some who would say it's been here for weeks. I mean, the Christmas music has been playing nonstop for ages. When we eat lunch in Kerrytown, there are always cheerful songs about Jesus and angels and Christmas spirit playing in the background. It's driving me crazy.

I'm not completely sure what my position on Christmas music is. I think I'll make some lists. That's what the characters in the novels I've been reading do. List-making is big in YA. It's a very easy way to write things out without actually having to develop them, you know. Perfect for NaNoWriMo.

Anyway, the lists:

Bad Things About Christmas Music:

• There is nothing else during the month of December. Nothing
• I think "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" and that other song, the one with the bells, are some of the most depressing songs ever
• You hear every song over and over
• As a result of that, it gets stuck in your head
• It's super annoying to find yourself humming it when you could be humming something, else, like "I'll Make A Man Out Of You"

Good Things About Christmas Music:

• It's only around for a month

Okay, so now I know I hate Christmas music. This is so refreshing. The only problem is this: I might still like it. I mean, there are many things I like even though they're obviously terrible and I should hate them. I just can't think of any off the top of my head. People who know me can think of them for me, right? I trust you to know me better than I know my own self.

That reminds me of Twilight. I'm starting to love it again. There, something for the "this is horrible but I love it like my own psychotic, unclean child" list. I think it was discovering MyLifeIsTwilight dot com, which is sort of like MLIA but with worse spelling and creepier, Twi-hard posters whose lives seem to revolve around their life-size Rob Pat cutouts.

Actually, it might be because I was trying to read Breaking Dawn in French. I like to read things in French and see how much I can actually understand and how much leaves me wishing I had a French-English dictionary in my huge coat pockets. It doesn't help that books are mostly written in some weird tense I haven't learned yet, but at least I can understand some of the words. And imagine how amazed I was when Edward asked Bella, "Tu veux la voir?" and I realized that the direct object pronouns Kris Ann have been teaching us are actually used in the French language. Also, it is just as epic when Bella asks "Why am I covered in feathers?" in French.

Pourquoi suis-je couvert des plumes?

I don't know, Bella. Helpfully, Edward explains that it was because he bit a pillow. Ou deux... Oh, Edward, you pillow-biter. Now I understand why so many teenage girls want to marry you. I certainly find pillow-biting attractive.

I put a lot of links into this post to distract you from actually reading it. I mean, who would pay attention to me when there's a link to Rob Pat's slightly stalkerish visage staring you in the face. Come on, click it. I dare you. I hear they call him Robward now.

I can't keep writing, infidels. I have things to do. Important things. Yes. More important than spilling out my thoughts, hopes, and dreams to the Internet at large, as crazy as that may sound.

I've read a hundred books this summer.

I have. No lie. And here they are, with short review-type things for your viewing pleasure. You can skip over this entire list if it bores you to tears; I don't care. Or you can read it to find out which books I shelf-pulled from the teen sections of libraries are fabulous.

Libby's Summer Reading

1. Deadline by Chris Crutcher. Christ Crutcher writes books about athletes who mess with the status quo. In Deadline, the main character is a football player who falls in love and finds out more about the people in his town than he ever wanted to know when he is diagnosed with a terminal disease. I cried at the end. It was a deep, moving book.

2. Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist by David Levithan and Rachel Cohn. Mother thought there were things in this book that were inappropriate for my young eyes, but it was a good book. Norah agrees to be Nick's girlfriend for five minutes, but she ends up spending a crazy night chasing him around New York. There's also a movie, but I don't want to see it because it won't be as good as the book.

3. Art Geeks and Prom Queens by Alyson Noël. This book is about an art geek whose mother wants her to be a popular girl. She falls in with the popular crowd, but I don't think I'll spoil the ending by telling you that she ultimately goes back to the arty, geeky people.

4. Peaches by Jodi Lynn Anderson. I read this book because I've seen other people my age reading it. It was better than I thought it would be, but I still wouldn't recommend it. Three girls from, you know, different walks of life, form a lifelong bond while working on a peach orchard.

5. Lulu Dark and the Summer of the Fox by Bennet Madison. I love Lulu Dark, Halo City, and Bennet Madison. This is the sequel to Lulu Dark Can See Through Walls, which I must admit I liked more. I mean, how can you not love a book with lines like, "The drag queen was impressed by our classy wheels"? The books are fabulous and funny, and I think people should read them.

6. Rock Star Superstar by Blake Nelson. A guy forms a rock group. That's sadly all I remember. The book was okay, but obviously not good enough to really stick with me.

7. M or F? by Lisa Papademitriou and Chris Tebbets. This was a funny book about a girl who was too nervous to talk to the guy she had a crush on, so she made her gay best friend IM him. Yes, and that was the entire book. It was good, anyway, and I only picked it up because Liss checked it out from the library first.

8. A Step From Heaven by An Na. Jaewoong spent most of seventh hour once trying to convince us that An Na is his mother. That was why I read the book. All I really learned from it is that An Na lives in Vermont and Jaewoong is a liar. The writing style was sort of choppy and annoyed me, and I can't remember the plot to save my life.

9. The Rules for Hearts by Sara Ryan. It's the sequel to Empress of the World, so don't read it first. The Rules for Hearts starts where the first book left off, and it's a story about love, the theater, and brothers who are jerks, all with a main character named Battle Hall Davies.

10. The Queen of Cool by Cecil Castelucci. All I remember about this book is that the main character got tired of being the most popular girl at her school. Oh, and she made friends with a girl who I think was a little person through a program at the local zoo.

11. Twice Told. It was a short story collection, and I apparently didn't write down the editor. The idea was very interesting: illustrators would draw pictures and send the same picture to two different authors. The book was full of very different stories about the exact same picture, and it was fascinating to see how different people's minds worked.

12. Boy2Girl by Terence Blacker. Sam arrives in England from the States, ready to escape his horrible parents and live with his cousin. Unfortunately for him, his cousin's friends are major jerks who dare him to pretend to be a girl for his first week at their school. He does, because he really wants to join their little posse, and he causes an uproar when he gets found out.

13. Valiant by Holly Black. The main character shaves her head. She also falls in love with a troll. Yeah. It's still a good book. There's a possibility you could read it without having read Tithe first, because it's about completely different characters, but I think you should always start at the beginning. It's a very good place to start.

14. Twisted by Laurie Halse Anderson. She wrote Speak. Her books are all a little depressing in their own special ways. This one was about a guy whose life sort of fell apart. Oh, and his father was a jerk.

15. Dangerous Angels: the Weetzie Bat books by Francesca Lia Block. This was actually five books in one, but I read it as an anthology so I'm counting it as only one. I want to live in a Weetzie Bat book, because they're all love and magic and happy endings. Also, there are people named Witch Baby and Weetzie Bat. What's not to love?

16. Lulu Dark Can See Through Walls by Bennet Madison. I'm not sure how this book ended up at sixteen, because I'm sure I read it first, but whatever. It's a fabulous book and I recommend it.

17. Switchers by Kate Thompson. This book is about two teenagers who are called switchers because they switch from human form to any animal they imagine. Also, they get to save the world. It was a really interesting book, and I cried at the end, but telling you why would give away a major plot point.

18. La Petite Four by Regina Scott. La Petite Four is a historical romance for young adults. It's about four girls ( La Petite Four) who have just finished their stay at finishing school and have been forced into polite society. Scary, yes? Parts of it were funny, but I didn't love it. Maybe the books the author wrote for adults are better.

19. Just Another Day in my Insanely Real Life by Barbara Dee. My god. I have forgotten everything about this book, this nineteenth book I read. Hold on while I go and see if it has a Wikipedia page to refresh my memory. Thank you, Amazon. Okay, this book is about a girl who writes a fantasy story in her journal to escape her insanely real life. It was a terrible fantasy story, though. I could write a better one.

20. Fever 1793 by Laurie Halse Anderson. See, she writes depressing books. This one is about fever. Fever and dead people.

21. Harley Like A Person by Cat Bauer. Harley doesn't know who her father is, but she's convinced it's not the man who lives with her mother and calls himself her father. The book is about her quest to find herself and get people to quit saying, "Like the motorcycle?" when they hear her name.

22. Treacherous Love, edited by Beatrice Sparks. I picked this one up because it said anonymous. Dr. Beatrice Sparks, in case you didn't know, is the one who goes around making the diaries of anonymous teenagers who go through major crap into books. There's a book she edited about teen drug addiction, teen pregnancy, child molestation...not light stuff.

23. Catalyst by Laurie Halse Anderson. By the end of this list, I was picking up books just because they were pink or labeled humor, because I was sick of all this depressing stuff. My favorite part of Catalyst was when the main character started to sing the element song to a little boy who was not having it.

24. Random Acts of Senseless Violence by Jack Womack. With a title like that, who wouldn't be curious? ...Okay, I admit that I am bringing all the depressing books on myself. It's all my fault. Happy?

25. Breathing Underwater by Alex Flinn. This book is about a controlling guy who hits his girlfriend. Shades of Ed Cullen, I swear. I thought that through the whole book: Edward Cullen does that...Edward Cullen could use some time at this support group...Why is everyone in love with Edward Cullen?

26. The Night My Sister Went Missing by Carol Plum-Ucci. The sister went missing, in case you haven't guessed. Then the brother hid in the police stadium and listened to what everyone in the small town had to say about where they were the night she was missing. He learned a lot about his neighbors, and most of it was depressing.

27. Green Boy by Susan Cooper. I don't remember very much, other than that this was a sci-fi book about the environment and a boy who didn't talk. When I read the title in the notebook I've been using to keep track of my books, I thought it said Green Day.

28. Thou Shalt Not Dump the Skater Dude by Rosemary Graham. Guess what? She dumped the skater dude anyway. It was good for her in the long run, you know. The book was all right, but the funniest part was that the author put up a fake blog for the skater dude (in the book, he dumped his girlfriend through a blog post) and a bunch of people posted like they thought it was a real blog.

29. Evermore by Alyson Noël. It's fantasy. It's about a girl who feels a strange connection to a handsome yet dangerous boy. There's even blood involved. But no vampires, thank god. And the chick has some useful talents like mind reading, not just the ability to trip over flat surfaces.

30. Wasteland by Francesca Lia Block. I love Francesca Lia Block because she can write a book about something and still write about everything. She is amazing, even if her books are creepy and depressing at times. Wasteland isn't my favorite thing she's written, though.

31. Athletic Shorts by Chris Crutcher. Athletic Shorts, get it? It's a pun. Ha ha ha. This is a collection of short stories about characters from his other books. I was able to enjoy it, even though I hadn't read half the books. The best one was about the guy who had to wrestle the fabulous girl wrestler.

32. Perfect by Natasha Friend. How cool is her last name? This is an eating disorder book. The main character, Isabelle, is bulimic. She finds out that the most popular girl at her school, Ashley Barnum, is...wait for it...also bulimic! They throw up together. Isabelle had a weird girlcrush on Ashley, but it was a funny book and had a happy ending.

33. The Fold by An Na. Her again! I really liked The Fold. It was about a Korean American girl whose aunt offered to pay for the plastic surgery that would give her a fold in her eyelids like a white girl. Before reading this book, I had no clue that it was a major issue. Apparently it is. Cosmetic surgery creeps me out a little bit, but I still liked the book.

34. Midnighters: Blue Noon by Scott Westerfeld. As far as I know, the Midnighters series was the first thing Scott Westerfeld wrote for us young adults. It's funny and interesting, about a group of teenagers who have an extra hour of time at midnight because they were born at exactly the right time. Oh, and they have special magic powers that only manifest during their special magic time.

35. Hot Lunch by Alex Bradley. This book was hilarious. I love it. Read it, right now. I only picked it up because there was a picture of a girl with blue hair on the cover (she didn't dye it. It just came out that way) but it was funny, in a sarcastic way, about a girl who realizes that she can't be a misanthrope forever. Oh, and she went to a hippie school. I call books about hippie schools research.

36. Stormwitch by Susan Vaught. I picked this one for the title. It was interesting enough, and about Amazon-like warrior women and racial tension in America forty years ago, but I didn't love it.

37. My Life as a Girl by Elizabeth Mosier. You know, as opposed to my life as a chipmunk. A girl goes into a flashback when the cute but totally wrong for her guy she dated all summer shows up at her college across the country. I couldn't take this book seriously because of the main character's name, Jaime. It looks like J'aime to me, and I'm stuck pronouncing it like that in my head and wondering what she loves every few pages.

38. Midnighters: Touching Darkness by Scott Westerfeld. Ooh, spooky. Darkness. I'm afraid to say I have nothing to say about this book. I can't even remember which number it is in the series. Also, I'm too lazy to look it up because I just had to look up number 37.

39. Nothing by Robin Friedman. It's another eating disorder book, but it's special because it's about a bulimic guy. He's also Jewish. The book is told alternating between his point of view and his sister's. She writes in that weird verse style; he writes like a normal person.

40. Notes on a Near-Life Experience by Olivia Birdsall. The main character falls in love with her older brother's best friend. This is wrong. None of the child's friends will ever be allowed to fall in love with me. Ever. And I will never take them to the prom. I loved the back of this book, which had a graph of how the characters connected to each other like Kiki Nordgren, my (bulimic) nemesis. My band is going to my called My Bulimic Nemesis.

41. Dead is a State of Mind by Marlene Perez. Shockingly, this book is the sequel to the one directly below it on my list. Don't ask why it's first. The books are about crime-fighting psychic sisters. And werewolves. And vampires. Unfortunately, no zombies.

42. Dead is the New Black by Marlene Perez. Yay, vampire books. Fortunately, no one falls in love with the vampires, who are all cheerleaders. Not as cool as zombie cheerleaders, but cool nonetheless.

43. Fearless by Francine Pascal. This one said it was a super edition, which I mistakenly thought mean that it was going to be several books in one. It wasn't; it was a companion book. Fortunately, I picked up on what was going on pretty easily. The main character, Gaia, can't feel fear. She's just special that way. It's too bad she gets locked up because everyone else thinks she's a psycho.

44. Pretty Things by Sara Manning. I bought this book at a used-book store in P.E.I because it had sparkles on the cover. That is how shallow I am about books and judging them by their covers. It was a good book, though; funny and British. I love British books, because where else can you find grade-one wankers eating packets of crisps?

45. The Forest of Hands and Teeth by Carrie Ryan. Hey, it's about zombies. Also, a society with a cultish religion and star-crossed lovers. It was, you know, a little creepy and depressing, but so many books I read are. Oh, and New York got swarmed by zombies. Ha.

46. I Was A Teenage Fairy by Francesca Lia Block. Yup. Fairies. Like pixies, little winged people. It's not a particularly funny book, but it is awesome. I cried. You might cry too, if you easily get attached to characters in books.

47. Diva by Alex Flinn. Remember book number twenty-five, about the abusive boyfriend? This book is about how his girlfriend gets over him and goes on her way to becoming an opera singer. She goes to a performing arts school. Weird school: research. A lot of the book was blog entries. They annoyed me, because I am extremely picky about the way authors use text-speak in their books. It has to be exactly like what I see my friends writing. Otherwise, I laugh at it. Well, I laugh at it anyway.

48. Echo by Francesca Lia Block. I think if I looked at who the books I've read are by, she would come up the most. What I liked about Echo was the way that two characters were so in love they started to look like each other. That was awesome.

49. Girl, 15, Charming but Insane by Sue Limb. It's hilarious and British. The girl (fifteen, charming but insane) feels overshadowed by her perfect best friend, but she goes about her life anyway. I think I recommend it, even though I'm not sure what to say about it.

50. The Princess and the Pauper by Kate Brian. The princess meets a normal girl who (major shock!) looks just like her. They trade places. Their own goshdarn parents can't tell them apart, that's how goshdarn alike they are. I didn't get the book. I don't think there was much to get.

Well, that was the First Fifty. My hands hurt from typing them out. Also, my brain hurts. I need to go eat some ice cream or something. I will probably manage to write up the, um, Final Fifty by tomorrow night.

Prepositions are not things to end sentences with.

I now have trouble writing or saying sentences that end in prepositions. It just feels wrong in

my head. I have to write things correctly. Is this a good or a bad thing? Discuss.

On the other hand, I keep confusing homophones like they're and their. I feel stupid and

unworthy and horrible for about a second after I do it. Then I forget about it.

The temperature recently has reached over ninety degrees. This is unacceptable weather of the kind that will not be allowed in northern Canada when I move there. My dear family was stuck in the basement all day. It was boring down there, and it was boring and hot upstairs. I was convinced that Cassee was going to get heatstroke.

Today I made some beautiful art out of Mod Podge (well, that stuff. I don't know how to spell it), paper, duct tape, scissors with funny edges, and these awesome paintbrush/markers. Mother does not seem to appreciation my genius artwork. I can't imagine why. She just called it a collage, when anyone can see that it is obviously an abstract composition.

Ah, duct tape. It is useful for so many things, such as fixing ducts, holding together the fracturing bits of a failing relationship, and making clothing. Many people make prom dresses out of duct tape. I think this is mainly because of the Stuck at Prom contest that offers three thousand dollars worth of scholarship money to the winners, as well as money to the school that held the prom.

Look at the winners. Their dresses and tuxes are crazily elaborate. I don't even want to think about how long it took to make those. Or how much duct tape.

Tape.

Today, I will finish my hundredth book this summer. This is a frightening thought, and I don't know why. I've read thousands of books in my life, have never known which one was 500th or 666th or 729th, and have never cared. But now that I'm counting, it means something. I have a goal. I am working toward it. I have a record of ninety-six books I've read, and I can look back at them and remember.

Mother says I should keep writing down what I read after I hit a hundred. I've never done that before. I don't think I have the ability to keep track of these things. I always had to write up my stupid practice logs for band the morning they were due because I didn't write down when I practiced. Oh well. At least I actually told the truth about when I practiced, unlike some people.

Speaking of band, I quit. Spiffy is calling me a quitter now. So is Liss, but Liss just likes to call me things to annoy me. She spent the entire weekend calling me either Little Libsies or crotchety old woman.

We had a thrilling Girl Scout weekend, probably our last one ever. One of our members is thinking about giving up Girl Scouts. In most troops, I think that would be okay, but when you only have four members, a quarter of your troop leaving is a lot. Also, we don't do many things that you have to be a Girl Scout to do, like earning badges or going to Girl Scout camps. We just sort of meet and gossip and sell cookies outside Scrapbook Haven.

Not that I don't love my troop. I do. I love them more than I love nail polish and Gmail combined. Who else sings new lyrics to "You Belong With Me" in A&W or plays Apples to Apples in the car with Lego Building Blocks winning Chewy and Learning Spanish for Sticky? No one I know.

Anyway, we went on holiday up North. The drive was five hours of insane Apples to Apples and general craziness. I managed to spill several different food items on myself. Zoe's Aunt Franny kindly allowed us to stay in her boathouse, which was a shack by the water decorated with baskets, plastic furniture, and a bunch of little statues and things, which Liss named. The best part was a loft with a lot of old trunks and a vacuum on it.

We tried to catch fish in Crystal Lake for ages, but it didn't work too well because we were afraid to get swimmer's itch from the water. Finally, Anna got tired of that and sat down in the water to catch a fish. We also went swimming in Lake Michigan. On one side of a giant pier, the water was the color of puke. Liss has some other, ruder names for it. On the other side, it was clear and nice. We swam on both sides, and there was absolutely no difference.

What else did we do? That was about it. I read Liss's depressing book (Catching Fire, Suzanne Collins, #95. It's not actually out yet, but she had an ARC) and played mancala in rounds for at least an hour. Everyone called me OCD because I rearranged the pieces so they were with other pieces of the same color. Then they all started arranging them like that. OCD is not contagious, you know.

The weekend was really fab and stuff, but I have realized something shocking. Or, well, really not so shocking. This epiphany came to me while I was floating down a river on a tube, holding onto Liss's tube so she didn't float away from me.

I don't think I'll ever be the kind of person who can spend a lot of time around other people and not lock myself in my room for a while afterwards. I mean, that's a little bit exaggerated, but private people such as myself have trouble living in a shack with six other people who aren't related to me for long. I know some of you would have trouble with it, dear readers. Admit it. You're not all bubbly, cheerful, extroverted types.

That's all I have to say. My next post, whenever it may appear, will be at least partly about my feelings toward my hundredth book. It might even include my hundred book list if I don't get lazy about typing it.

I have to go move on with my exciting life now by going to the dentist and giving up Remi to the child.

Good Lord.

I am trying to say "Good Lord!" more often. In my head, it makes me sound like a crotchety old grandma who crochets lace doilies and is always "losing" her glasses and people have to point out that she's wearing them. I don't know what it sounds like outside my head, because I've never had the chance to go there.

The only one of my Summer Goals (the capital letters make them sound more impressive) that I seem to be anywhere near completing is my book list. I plan to read a hundred books I've never read this summer, excluding graphic novels of any kind. As of this post, I am maybe a fifth of the way through book #79, Shift.

I have a stately goal, so I thought I would share its fruits with you, dear elocutionists. I am considering exhibiting each of the tomes on this blog. I'm going to transcribe the register anyway, but there is a likelihood that I will also interline an epitomized compendium of each work for your viewing pleasure.

By the way, I found a thesaurus on the table next to me and used it to spice up the above paragraph. That would be why half of the words are probably used wrong. It took me a long time to write because I had to keep checking the thesaurus for every other word. This is why that one person said, "If you need to look the word up, it's the wrong word." Or something to that effect.

Here's the shorter (more succinct) version of what I just said, in correct (or accurate) English, without any interesting (engrossing!) words (utterances).

I'm going to write up my list of books on this blog no matter what, but Liss told me I should write sarcastic book reviews, so I'm considering writing a short review of all the books I can remember. Some of them I read months ago, which is too long for me to remember when I've read fifty books since then. You won't get a very good review of those. But I remember some of the books like I read them yesterday. In fact, I read three yesterday.

Tell me: is this a good idea? It would fill up the post a lot more than just listing books. That would make me feel more accomplished, and I wouldn't have to scribble some lazy paragraphs about I'm bored and hungry and I don't know what to write so I'll just whinge about my boring hunger. When I write long posts, I feel better. Also, my favorite complainers are happy because I've actually written.

Did you know dictionary.com Tweets? By Jove, I certainly didn't. This is yet another reason to get a Twitter. Unfortunately, I have some very strong reasons against getting a Twitter. See:

Pros:

• The webpage has a drawing of a little birdie on it
• People I know have Twitter accounts
• My favorite YA authors have Twitter accounts

Cons:

• I never update my blog or my Facebook status, so why would I update my Twitter?
• Twitter is verbing words like MySpace and Facebook verbed "friend"
• The character limit would block my creative expression, which is hard to summon up and easily blocked
• It's ruining the English language, just like Facebook, texting, and Miley Cyrus

Wow, making lists really does help solve problems. And here I thought it was stupid back in elementary school when they made us write lists. I have more cons than pros. That means getting a Twitter is a very bad idea.

And my Twitter username was going to be pseudocurses, too. If you are reading this and you have a Twitter, please help a young girl in need. Look up the name pseudocurses and see if some usurping youth has snatched it before I can. Thank you. Infidel.

I keep seeing people on Facebook who write 5 things i can grab from where im sitting, as if we really want to know what they keep in their filthy pigsties. Guess what? Just for you, I'm going to write five things I could grab from where I'm sitting, if I wasn't worried that I'd get all kinds of diseases just from touching them.

5 tings lolol!!

• Roget's College Thesaurus in Dictionary Form
• Book #79, Shift
• Holy Bible; the New Revised Standard Edition
• Robby's nasty bread crusts from lunch
• a French-English dictionary

There, wasn't that enlightening?

My family is impairing my rebel-crushing activites.

They are! The child refuses to tell me where the rebel base is. I can't believe I have a rebel sympathizer in my own home! I mean, I have to live with the kid. He probably reads seditious newspapers when he's not busy dropping the cat. I can't believe those rebels corrupted him.

Forking rebel scum.

In other, non-rebel-related news:

I've just recently decided something about people, and it's this: people care a lot about their crap. That's crap as in junk, not...whatever else the word crap can mean. If people are wandering around and they see some crap, they're like, "Oh, look! Crap!" but they don't do anything about it. The moment it becomes their crap, they care about it. "Look, here's my crap! Don't touch it! Jerk!"

So, in conclusion: people are overly protective of their crap.

Take that however you wish.

My walk home today was detained by several strange older men. Okay, Sam and Niraj. I wouldn't exactly call them men, but they're older than me and they're definitely strange. It was really amusing to talk to them, actually. I think it's because they're guys and they have vaguely perverted (sometimes more than vaguely...) guy perspectives on things. Or maybe it was just because we started playing that slapping game. You know, the one where you slap each other's hands until you give up? Of course, I wasn't playing. It's so barbaric! Everyone gave up on it pretty quickly and just started slapping each other.

I might secretly be a werewolf. Secretly to you, me, and the rest of the word. I wouldn't think that, but I keep getting strange scratches and having no idea where they came from. Oh well. At least this isn't like the time I looked down at my hand and realized I was bleeding. That was pretty bad. I hadn't even noticed...

I have decided that I love translators. This is not strange, because I fall in love with a different profession every week.

Professions I Love:

• Translating
• Video game design
• Web page design
• Author...-ing?
• Journalism
• Singing
• Songwriting
• Tile setting
• Animal training
• Costume design

And many more that I am (guess what?) too lazy to think of at this moment. I am going to mention my own laziness at least once every post, and if I can't think of a way to work it in, I'll just type it at the end. Anyway, it's pretty unfortunate that I have no talent at half those things. Sob, sob. Listen to my tears through your computer screen. ;_; See, that was a little sad face. I can use emoticons. I have the ability. I just, you know, choose not to.

Martial: pertaining to war.

There is no Spanish word of the day today. Ha ha, suckers. French is better anyway.

Oh no! War! War really messes up my vibe. My table in science class refuses to admit that our positive vibe exists. It does, darnit! They keep crushing it like I crush rebels, but it's there! Danny said to me, "Your positive vibe can go to--" but I said, "Danny!" in a very scandalized sort of way before he could finish his sentence.

I'm going to miss them, in a sick and twisted way. Them and their hobo-out-running, cursing, arguing selves. If you're reading this, Swagat, Niraj, Danny, Aaron, I love you all non-romantically and non-creepily, even though you kill my vibe. Please don't say you love me back. You know that creeps me out.

So I have nothing more to say now. Wait. Yes, I do. I have something vitally important to say.

It's not important at all. I lied. I just need to describe to someone, something, anyone! my terrible crash-and-burn on that forking oral report.

It was a little past eight on the morning of 03.06.09 (yay! Three six nine!) in the classroom of Mr. X. I am still protecting his identity. Yes. I had a report on the fine state of Arizona to give, and I thought I was prepared. Well, mostly prepared. I was still crossing things out and changing around my lines, but I figured I could do it.

He decided to have my group present first, and out of the four of us, he picked me to go first. Yay. I kind of started panicking. Okay, not kind of. I totally started panicking. It was almost as bad as those first few days after I got the hall ticket. (By the way, I can walk down the halls without panicking now! It's so exciting!) It was a combination of several things: my...slight...fear of speaking in front of people, Mr. X, and it being early in the morning.

I stood at the front of the room, clutching my notes and the microphone. I think I might have been shaking a little. Everyone was looking at me, waiting for me to start talking. I looked down at my notes...

And freaked. I froze up. I couldn't talk, couldn't move, nothing. I just stood there, trying to talk, but nothing was coming out. It was the kind of thing you read about and hope never happens to you. I started crying, actually, out of nerves and embarassement and who knows what else. Emotional overload, I guess. We sympathetic individuals (read: wimps) can only take so much of this. Our systems aren't meant to handle it.

I sat back down and refused to answer when he asked why I wasn't presenting. He moved on. The rest of the class stood up and presented. It went without a hitch.

I was kind of mad at myself for not being able to talk, but I couldn't do anything. It just happens. It's like that.

Such is the curse of being a socially inept, shy, sympathetic individual.

Lazy.

Only four English words end in -dous: tremendous, horrendous, stupendous, and hazardous.

Isn't that just stupendous?

As of this very moment, I am listening to music, typing this post, watching my cat scratch herself, chatting on Facebook, and ditching jazz band. All at the same time! This is what we call multi-tasking, dear readers. I'm not very good at it, but I manage. Obviously.

I didn't blog yesterday because I was too lazy. I know I use that excuse a lot, but it's not just an excuse. It's the truth. Can the truth be an excuse? Wow, what a fascinating and pressing question. If I answered it, that would totally raise the profundity level of this blog.

The question now becomes: Do I want to raise the profundity level of this blog?

Of course I do! Did you think otherwise for even a millisecond? I'm ashamed of you. Gosh. Of course I want to raise my forking level of profound thoughts, if only just because I like the word 'profundity.'

The truth can be an excuse, because it all depends on the person who hears it.

Pretend you understand what that means. It'll make me feel better if you do.

Wow, I'm typing in sentences today, not paragraphs. Maybe I should type each sentence separately and make this post about a mile long and annoying to read. That would be fun! It would also kind of go against all my type like you mean it! English language rants...

The child has been waking up at the same time I wake up. Six-forty-five, but I usually don't stumble out of bed until at least six-fifty. He likes to wake up that early for some completely insane reason, even though his place of learning doesn't begin for another couple of hours after that. Every time I see him at the table next to me, I want to say, "Are you mad, child? Go back to bed!" Unfortunately, my mouth doesn't really work that early in the morning.

I wish I could sing. It's terrible, you know. I could write some lyrics, but they'd be useless because I couldn't write music to them and I can't sing them anyway. I get jealous of people who have skills that I don't. I'm just one of those easily jealous people.

People I am Jealous of:

• Singers
• Published novelists
• Small Asian figure skaters
• Figure skaters
• Hockey skaters
• Good dancers
• Really good clarinetists
• Really good instrumentalists
• People who are naturally graceful

And many more.

Before I forget, the Word! of! the! Day! Excessive punctuation! It's fun--for everyone!

Parry: deflect a blow.

And, to raise cultural awareness (I'm not sure how, but it sounds good), the Spanish word of the day!

Papel: paper.

Let's say, hypothetically, that you have a group of vampires. I say hypothetically because we all know that vampires are fictional. In my system we have vamps (dude vampires) and vampettes (chick vampires), because vampire just isn't gender-specific enough. Anyway, the vamp group. What would you call that? In Twilight, they're a coven, and I can't remember any names from other books. I like a clash of vampires or, like crows, a murder of vampires. Which do you like better, dear readers?

And yes, this is how I spend my time: thinking about names for fictional things.

Have fun with reality, infidels.

Darn you! Read my forkin' blog!

Spiffy, for some reason, thinks I have no phone skills. I don't know where she got that idea...

This is a normal ride-home-from-school phone call to Mother:

"Darn you! Darrrrrrnnnn yoooooou! Pick up the forkin' phone! Darn you! Oh, hello, this is John S.  McCain speaking. Ha ha ha, no, it's me, Libby, your daughter. Not your son, 'cause I'm not a man. No, I'm not! Gosh! Anyway, I'm in the car with, like, five people and Pascale's mom is driving me home because it would be weird if she didn't. But then Pascale had this idea, she was like, 'Oh my gosh!' and we were like 'Oh your gosh what?' and she was like, 'Y'all should hang with me!' and we were like, 'That's rockin', dude!' Yeah, that was how it went. So can I? Hang with Pascale and people?"

See, that's perfectly normal.

I had my Girl Scouts over last night. And the cousin. She's not one of my girl scouts, but she's a girl scout and she's my cousin, so it works. She and Liss informed me that they always keep a tab up on their computers with my blog on it, which I find a little creepy. If I was going to say who my biggest fans are, it would be you guys. I'm basking in your slightly stalkerish adoration over here.

Both of them (Liss and Audrey) told me no less than five times that I was "Hitler incarnate." They also accused me of wanting to "kill all non-Aryans" and told me that "you should start in America because we have a lot of people who aren't blonde and blue-eyed." Since I know you have a tab up and are reading this, I'm going to talk to you two. Everyone else who isn't either of them, look away now and don't look back until I tell you to. This paragraph does not concern you.

To Audrey and Liss: I have told you several times to stop it. I find it extremely offensive that you would even compare me to Hitler. I am the person who cried so hard she had to leave the room when our teacher taught about the Holocaust. There is a difference between liking blonde hair and wanting to kill people who aren't blonde. I have no problem with any hair color; I just like blonde more. Hitler was a horrible person. The Holocaust was a horrible thing. I don't even like bringing it up in conversation, much less being accused of wanting to do something like that. End of rant. Please, shut up.

You can look now. I should probably have written this on my list yesterday (I told you it would grow!):

• Blondes

I spent about ten minutes this morning cleaning up after all y'all. More than half of that was spent sorting the game cards into six equal piles and making sure they were all facing the same way. I'm not OCD! Kimchi Kat kept getting in the way by sitting in the box and rubbing her little kitty face on the cards while I was trying to sort them. I still love her very much, though. She was creeped out by everyone sleeping in the basement. The poor kitty had no idea what to do.

Also last night, I allowed Liss to braid my hair into ten different little braids. She was laughing at me because I divided my hair into sections before I brushed it. It's not my fault I have a lot of hair. It comes naturally. I slept with it like that and they called me Medusa all night long...I'm crying here. Show some sympathy. And then when I took it out, it was all funky. Yes, that's how it was. All funky. I am not going to describe what that means.

We tried to watch Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, but certain people laughing their heads off on Facebook caused Liss to pause every few seconds. Then she started saying "I luv ya, man!" every time Harry was in the vicinity of a male character, just because she could really imagine him saying that. Half an hour into the movie, after everyone had finally migrated over in front of the television, it skipped back to the beginning.

Our movie-viewing was obviously doomed from the start.

I could probably think of a few more things to write about, but I don't feel like it.

I really don't want to go back to school tomorrow. I haven't done much over break, and I like it that way. I'd almost rather have the knowledge that I could do something than actually do it. Plus, school is so...educational. I'm not looking forward to homework, classes, or the Walk of Shame every morning. Oh, or band...I haven't practiced since I left the house Friday last week. Fork.

Break really is a break, you know? Like someone hit the pause button on my life and let me have a while to sleep it off, but they're going to hit play again tomorrow and expect me to me ready. I don't want to play...

I'm using a lot of ellipses and also not making sense to myself.

The words "Kimchi Kat" do not show up in that order on Google.

I'm going back to calling Cassee Kimchi Kat, even though it's misspelled. It's not on Google! How fabulous is that?

My titles have absolutely nothing to do with my posts. I like it that way.

I'm not sure if this is just me being a spelling/punctuation/grammar person, but I find it really strange to have Facebook chats with certain people. I type out full sentences and try to put my entire thought in one post. Other people...don't.

Example:

Me: Hi, Anonymous!

Anonymous: hi libby

how r u?

Me: I'm fine. You?

Anonymous: i'm fine to

do u like cheese?

Me: Um...

Anonymous: ?

Me: Why are you asking?

Anonymous: i dunno

i just wanted 2

well

?

do u?

Me: I guess. I mean, cheese is pretty cool. I don't eat it all the time or anything, but I like it.

Anonymous: lol

yeah

i don't

like it

i think its kinda gross

but

ok

It's really strange for me to look at a chat I've been having and see that I speak in sentences, but the people I talk to speak in little. Short bursts of. Speech. It takes a minute for them to write up their little three-word phrases (subordinate clauses!) and send their little tiny bits of thoughts to me. I'm not annoyed with the people who type like that, just the way they type.

its annoying. 2 try 2 read. ok? cuz ur little. mini-thoughts r not interesting. their kinda stupid. k?

So please stop it and write like you've cracked open a dictionary at least once in your life, please? I'm getting a little angry here, actually. I could rant for a while on this subject; I did once in English class. But I'm going to stop now. I might devote an entire post to this some time, but not now.

I've changed the nifty little profile picture up in the right-hand corner several times now. First it was a creepy staring face because I was too lazy to put up a better picture. Then it was the picture of a dress made from old iPod skins. I love that thing. It's absolutely amazing. But I got bored of it after a while and changed it to an interrobang, a combination exclamation point and question mark. Now it's an irony mark. Yes, it's not just a backwards question mark, it's an irony mark. There's a huge difference. I'll probably have a picture of a dead rat up by March.

It's interesting how a lot of people seem to blog the way they talk. Like, some people write really, really long paragraphs and then pull themselves back on subject. Some people just write down thoughts and skip to the next one. Do I blog the way I talk? I can't tell. I don't just talk to hear the sound of my own voice, whatever you think. I talk because I can.

I don't think that's a better reason, but I don't care.

I keep thinking about colors all the time and I don't know why.  It's very strange. I keep doing things like searching the word blue on Google or typing in yellow on Wikipedia. I even have the word blue written on the back of my hand. In purple marker, natch. I love that word, almost as much as I love colors. This is prompting me to make a list. Unfortunately, I can only think of a few things to put on it right now, so it will be an ever-growing list. I will add to it as I think of other things to put on it. Don't worry, though; that could take millenia.

Things I Like More than I Should for No Apparent Reason:

• Colors
• Butterflies
• The word natch
• British spellings of words
• British punctuation
• Punctuation
• Green cargo pants
• Characters who wear green cargo pants
• People who wear green cargo pants

I barely ever made lists until I started blogging and the little Bulleted List key showed up. See, blogging is a bad influence on me. I should leave my blog to collect virtual dust here on the Internet and go rant about people who curse too much elsewhere. Of course, my reader(s) would probably all die from lack of their daily me.

I'll stay. For now.