Guess what?

Look at this video of a kitten on YouTube again!

Yeah.

I'm sitting here late at night and the cousin is leaning on me. She's also tickling my side, or she was, but I think she's giving that up. Do you hear that, cousin? I think you're giving that up.

Sorry if this ends up sounding like me talking to the cousin, but it's not like this blog ever sounds like anything normal.

Today is Valentine's Day, you know. I like to call it "V-Day" because that's cuter. Kind of like "X-mas," although X-mas is a legitimate term that was used way before texting shorthand came into public use. I mean, people were saying X-mas before smell phones were invented.

I did practically nothing for V-Day, which is a shame because it's one of the cutest, most commercial holidays ever. All I did was get presents from my parents (rice crackers with seaweed, Japanese chocolate mushrooms, and white gum, because that's what every girl needs on V-Day) and hang out with the cousin.

The cousin is now lying on the floor trying to make the cat love her. It's a losing battle, cousin. (Good God, she's not even next to me and I'm talking to her. I must be slowly losing my mind. I love you, everyone! Remember that when I go insane and try to throw kittens at you when I see you because I'm too crazy to care who you are, okay?) The cat will never love you. The cat might be a space alien, or a robot, or an Animagus, or a ninja, but no matter what, she is heartless.

I mean, if she knew what V-Day was, she would probably refuse to celebrate it. She would be one of those people who goes, "Ew, sparkles and pink and love and happiness! I want to go sulk in my basement lair and eat frogs or something." She's just a little jerk kitty that way.

Another non-human who I've nonetheless decided hates V-Day is the exclamation point. It's not a ninja exclamation point, because it's not subtle enough to be a ninja, but I'm still not sure what it is. It might just be a random exclamation point. Or a fabulous exclamation point. Yeah.

Anyway, the fabulous exclamation point is Not Happy. With the capitals. The exclamation point is the kind of not happy that can't be expressed by lowercase letters, all right? See, it's in love with the ninja ampersand. It wants to marry the ninja ampersand and, like, have its children or something. Although I don't think that would work out because they're both "its," being punctuation.

But I'm getting off track. The fabulous exclamation point is deeply in love with the ninja ampersand. You'd think that wouldn't be a problem, because the exclamation point is very forward with its feelings, but no. The exclamation point said, "AMPERSAND I LOVE YOU LOL," and waited for an answer.

The ninja ampersand actually kind of ignored it, if you can believe that. The ninja ampersand was on a Top Secret Ninja Mission and didn't have time for exclamation points who caps lock too much.

So the exclamation point sulked for a while, and then it said, "OMG AMPERSAND PLZ TALK TO ME!!!" because it wanted the ampersand to talk to it. Their conversation went a little bit like this:

&: ...

!: WHY AREN'T YOU TALKING TO ME??

&: can't talk. important ninja mission.

!: NOTHING IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN ME MY LOVE

&: ...

!: SO AMPERSAND. I HAVE A VERY IMPORTANT QUESTION. ALMOST AS IMPORTANT AS ME, SO THAT'S PRETTY IMPORTANT

&: later. i'm busy.

!: I DON'T CARE. AMPERSAND. DO YOU LOVE ME??

&: i said i'm busy.

!: ANSWER MY QUESTION HONEY

&: ...

!: OMG YOU DON'T LOVE ME DO YOU??

&: it's not that.

!: YOU HATE ME OMGOMGOMG YOU RUINED MY V-DAY OMG I'M NEVER GOING TO BE THE SAME YOU HEARTBREAKER

&: exclamation point, i said it's not that. i just have an important ninja job and i really shouldn't be talking to you right now

!: YOU HATE ME OMGOMG JERKBAIT I'M NOT TALKING TO YOU

&: well, if you're going to be like that

!: LIKE WHAT? I'M GOING TO BE LIKE WHAT?

&: i thought you weren't talking to me.

!: I THOUGHT YOU HAD AN IMPORTANT JOB.

&: well...look, i'm sorry. can we talk later?

!: NO BECAUSE I'M NOT TALKING TO YOU. EVER AGAIN. SO THAT MEANS NEVER

&: but you're talking to me

!: I AM NOT. GO AWAY. STUPID NINJA AMPERSAND

&: fine, i will

!: ...

!: COME BACK I LOVE YOU

!: -CRIES- -IN CAPS LOCK-

That was my V-Day story for you. It was kind of sad, I guess, but maybe the ninja ampersand and the fabulous exclamation point will get a happy ending later when I'm not tired out of my mind and with the cousin. Right now the two of them are kind of like this:

&||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||!

Maybe tomorrow they'll be like this:

& !

But I doubt it.

Sad V-Day, but hey! It's twelve-twelve, so technically it's not even V-Day anymore!

Remember me?

It's okay if you don't. I don't really make much of a mark on the Internets. I make more of a ripple, I think. You know, because a ripple is a lovely phenomenon that spreads out in concentric circles before fading away into nothingness.

But that's not like me, because here I am! I'm back, because I really can't live for very long without knowing that I have people out there hanging onto my every word. Like the cousin. She said to me this weekend -- we were at my grandparents' house -- she said to me, "I need your blog! I need it to LIVE!" or something like that, and I said, "That's...nice, cousin."

I have another excuse this time. Yes, a new one. You've never heard it before on this blog. There is a concrete reason why I haven't blogged in a month. The last few weeks of October, well. I have nothing to say about that. But I was busy for the entire month of November.

"But how can you be busy for an entire month straight?" you ask. "How can something keep you occupied for that long? Your attention span isn't really that long, is it?"

Dear readers, it is that long. My attention span was long enough to let me spend an entire month of my life on NaNoWriMo.

NaNoWriMo is the short way to say National Novel Writing Month. (NaNo is the short way to say NaNoWriMo. Apparently writers don't like to actually write things out. Who knew?) NaNoWriMo is for crazy people who don't mind that they will have lost their souls by the time the month is over. NaNoWriMo is for masochistic nerds. NaNoWriMo is what everyone wants to do until November starts and they have to pick up their pens.

You write a novel, or at least fifty thousand words of something in a month. Yes. 50k in thirty days. That rounds out to a neat 1666.6 words a day.

People do it because people are crazy. People have issues. And people who think they can write have even more issues than most people, so they think writing fifty thousand words in thirty days will be fun.

(Actually, it was fun. Shh! Don't tell anyone!)

But that's what I was doing all month. I was obsessing over my word count: Do you think I can hit 30k tonight if I'm only at 26k? I was writing a lot of things that didn't make any sense: "It appears that a small tornado has entered my classroom." I was breaking the fourth wall whenever I got bored: "And then he took the midnight train going anywhere and joined a gang in the hood." I was deleting a lot of crap: Yes, that's why you didn't see anything about gangs. I was sleeping normally...Or not.

As you can imagine, I hardly had time to do my homework, let alone update the Internet on my fascinating life. NaNo sucked up my life like a vacuum sucks up dust. Also, it stole my soul and made me go slightly crazy for a few days. But I'm all better now!

Maybe.

Let's see, what happened to me today? I went to class...I went to my other class, where we talked about Catcher in the Rye.

God, I love that book. I liked it a lot more before we had to analyze it in class, of course, but I still love it. Holden is such a psycho. I don't think I'd like to meet him, but I love reading about him.

Nothing else really happened to me today. I can't believe I'm trying to blog about my life when nothing interesting happens in my life. I mean, I wake up, I eat some breakfast, I catch the bus, I spend several hours in a semi-controlled learning environment, I go home. Boring. Who wants to hear about that?

I could make up something to tell you. I could say to you,

It was a dark and stormy day. The wind was howling like wolves howl when they haven't eaten anything for weeks and their fur is starting to fall out in patches. Water crashed against the walls of Community High School, because there's a lot of water crashing downtown. There was a flood, okay? It was flooding, and dark, and stormy, et cetera. This is very beautiful and descriptive, but it's not going anywhere because I'm too lazy to write it.

If that didn't bring tears to your eyes, I don't know what will.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Wasn't that profound? Yeah, I thought so, too. I've been reading dictionaries again, and not even the actual words in the dictionary, which would be semi-respectable. No, I've been reading the nifty section at the back known as Foreign Words & Phrases. It has such gems as plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose. The dictionary translates this as the more it changes, the more it's the same thing. I'm just going to assume the dictionary knows what it's talking about.

Today, I saw someone wearing a shirt that said Go Blue Live Green. It was pretty fabulous.

I don't know what to write about, so I think I might venture out into the world of the Internet and find a blog post topic.

Let's see: make a satirical post. You know, I think that one might be too hard for me. I have trouble with this whole sarcasm thing as it is; I'm not sure I can write an entire satirical post.

Write a post like you are telling a story: once upon a time, there was a girl named Libby sitting at a computer. She was typing using the system known as hunt-and-peck because six or so years of typing lessons at school had been wasted on her. Many things were running through her mind, from I'm hungry to Why am I trying to write from this prompt if I know I'm not going to go through with it?

Make a [blank] for dummies post: procrastinating for dummies. Rule one: if you have something to do, don't do it. There, that covers everything.

Make a 101 Ideas post: ha ha. No.

Well, that list was useless. I'm moving on to another one.

Write a stream of conciousness post that is extremely emotive: OH MY GOSH!!! THE CHILD IS EATING ICE CREAM!!! FATHER IS EATING ICE CREAM!!! NOTHING IS RIGHT IN MY WORLD!!! I MIGHT HAVE TO GO TO SLEEP!!!!!! Sorry. Emotive to me means caps lock and excessive punctuation.

Coin a phrase which describes a phenomenon that currently has no description: unbloggable adj. unable to be blogged about.

Have you recently tried a different hairstyle? Why, yes, I have. I like this prompt. I think I might do it. A few days ago, I asked Mother to braid my hair in two braids, like pigtails but braided, before I went to school. I don't remember what people said about it. I think a few people thought it was cute. Someone got annoyed with me for gesturing with my hair. I took it out before the end of seventh hour because it was driving me nuts. Oh, and the back of my neck was cold all day. This is why I keep my hair long: it's remarkably good for keeping me warm.

Hey, this is fun. I think I'll do some more of these. Dear readers, if you don't like this, kiss my grits.

If you were granted three wishes by a genie, what would you wish for? I would really like to say I'd wish for something fabulous and noble, like world peace, but I don't think I would. I think I would wish for a laptop of my own, first of all. (What are the rules of this genie, anyway? Can I ask for something vague and in the future, like I wish to have, like, all my books sell if/when I become an author?) I can't actually think of many other things that I really want. It depends on if the genie can only give me material things or if it can give me concepts. I'm confusing myself. Okay, here's my list. It may or may not be true. One, a laptop; two, fame and fortune as an author; three, world peace.

These lists keep saying do an interview, so here I am conducting an interview with the cousin. While on my trip visiting Civil War battlefields, they taught me that if you want to have a duel with someone, you say you'll be taking an interview. Rest assured that the cousin and I are not going to duel. I'd probably die in the procces. I have terrible aim.

My Interview with the Cousin:

Me: I'm going to interview you for my blog.

Her:

Me: Did you die?

Her: Okie doke. No. I had to help Cara clean up steampunk junk.

Me: Why did Cara have steampunk junk?

Her: Because we were costuming today.

Me: I should warn you that I am copying this entire conversation, sans typos.

Her: Good good.

Me: I don't even know how to interview people. What am I supposed to do?

Her: Ask questions. I answer.

Me: Explain to my readers what steampunk is, in case they don't know. That's not a question, but I don't care.

Her: Steampunk is an alternate cosplay world where electricity is not widespread and everything is powered by steam, including airships. The dress is fairly tricked out Victorian with lots of gears and fancy metal.

Me: I knew that, somehow. I think that Libba Bray woman wrote about it on her blog. Are you listening to music right now?

Her: No. I am listening to the sounds of nature and the mega-bass from my parents' too-loud movie.

Me: For gosh sakes, woman, put some music on so I can write about your strange musical tastes.

Her: Fine. Marilyn Manson--"This is the new s---."

Me: Did you try to pick something that you knew would annoy me?

Her: My new thing is drag. She's drag.

Me: I can't write that title on my blog, even though I just did. That's the whole point of pseudocurses.

Her: I am fully aware of that, little Libsies.

Me: That's it. This interview is terminated.

Her: Why? Continue to interview. I'll be appropriate for the younger viewers.

Me: You just called me little Libsies again, and I'm bored. Younger viewers? I have no younger viewers.

Her: True dat.

Me: Yeah, I'm terminating this.

What a lovely interview. Hey, infidels! Get on Facebook at the same time I get on Facebook, and I'll interview you for my blog! It'll be the best thing since sliced bread, seriously. I could have an interview every day for two days, at least!

That wasn't much of a blog post, but I had fun writing it.

And now, a cheer about e-mail!

G for glass

M for mature

A for amazing

I for immoral

L for licorice

What does that spell?

Gmail!

I just signed into this blog with my new gmail account. The only difference between my new gmail account and my old yahoo account is the username. I still have the same password, which I use for everything. If someone finds out what it is, they'll be able to get into pretty much everything that belongs to me online. I don't like my new gmail account because I don't know how gmail is supposed to be spelled. I want to say g-mail, but I'm not sure if the g is supposed to be capitalized or not.

I was going to go mope around the house, but the cousin told me to blog. It's very annoying, but I hear many authors have people who yell at them whenever they don't work and get them to finish their novels. I know this because I always read the little page of dedications at either the front or back; you know, the one that lists all these people who helped me through the tough process of writing? Does anyone else read those?

I'm really not sure what to write about today. We have a very strange and difficult new song in band. It's called Amparito Roca. Go look it up on Google or something. I have the first clarinet part, only because the teachers took pity on me for having played the second parts in our last two songs. It has a lot of sixteenth notes, which is a problem because I can't play sixteenth notes, and a lot of music in general, which is a problem because I can't play. I vowed to myself that I would learn to play this song, but that was what I did last time and it didn't work. I still say it's going to be fun. Anna, who has the second part, laughs at me every time I mention it.

My favorite element of the periodic table is Uuu, unununium. It's also number 111. See how awesome it is? I know nothing about it other than those three things, but they're awesome enough that it could be completely stupid except for that and I wouldn't care. How can an element be stupid? you ask. Well, I'm not answering you. Go think about it for yourself.

The cousin is telling me via Facebook to write about her. This is our conversation:

Libby

I don't know what to write about.

3:55pmAudrey

ME!

'cause I'm special.

Yes, that is exactly what our conversation looked like. I didn't pay her anything to say that. The cousin speaks of her own free will. My writing is all going to look messed up now because I put that little chat thing in.

The cousin's name is actually Audrey, to everyone who might not have met her. I just call her the cousin. I don't know why. I said it one day, and it stuck.

Weird Names I Call People and Who They Really Are:

• The Tyrannical Dictator: Mother
• Father: Father
• The child: Robby, my brother
• The cousin: Audrey, my cousin
• Hermano: all girls I talk to who are not Spiffy or Anna
• Hermana: Anna
• Prima: Spiffy
• Chica: Niraj, also any other guy

And there you have it! I don't know why I like calling people by Spanish words that apply to the wrong gender anyway. It amuses me. I suppose I should use French words, since I actually speak some French, but Spanish is funnier. The problem with having different names for everyone means that I can't just say, "Hola, hermanos!" like I did before Spiffy and Anna (who take Spanish) complained about being called guy names. Now I have to say, "Hola, hermanos y hermana y prima!" which is really too long for a greeting.

I also speak French in situations where French doesn't make sense, such as in the middle of sentences typed to people who don't speak any French. But why would you do something that stupid? they ask, and I reply, I did it parce que I felt like it. They call this Frenglish or Franglais.

The cousin just told me that I made a mistake in claiming that her posse calls me the abortion one because of Chica's story. The story about Chica was completely true, but it's not why they call me that. I don't feel like typing up the cousin's story, so you can go ask her if you really need to know.

This post is fairly short, but I'm not in the mood to write any more. I have homework to do and school tomorrow. Adios, infidels.

"We're in Narnia!"

The only reason I am writing this post is because I promised the cousin. Also, she shoved me up against a wall and said "BLOG" while I screamed girlishly. I can't help screaming girlishly. I'm a girl.

Tonight, I had the pleasure of attending a performance of "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe." This was only because the cousin was acting in it, and of course I always go to see the things the cousin acts in. She's my cousin. We have a bond sort of like sisters, except we aren't around to get on each other's nerves as much, so it's even better. The other reason I always show up is because she'd probably beat me up otherwise. Don't deny it, cousin.

I read the book a long time ago, like two years or something. Maybe even longer. This is longer than many insects and other small animals have been alive, so it has to be a long time. All I really remembered was that there were four kids who ran around an old house until the idiot one found a wardrobe and went into it. Then they went to Narnia, found the White Witch, found Aslan, et cetera. They probably pointed and shouted, "I found you! Look, look, I found Aslan!" when they did. This is somewhat like me when I find people every day or like in City of Glass when Alec runs over to Magnus and says, "Magnus! I choose you!" like a Pokemon master...Okay, please ignore me now.

If you kept reading past et cetera, I'm sorry. Sometimes I babble about stuff that has no point, and I can pretty much go on forever if no one stops me.. Spiffy assures me that no one actually listens; I'm not sure if I should be relieved or offended.

In the play, there were these lovely little forest sprites or something who ran around doing little dances and twirling ribbons on sticks. It was a lot nicer than I'm describing it. I noticed that the little forest sprites started out with white ribbon-sticks, probably to symbolize the blank emptiness and despair of the White Witch's reign, and ended up with multicolored ribbon-stick to symbolize spring. The changing of the ribbon-sticks pleased me, because I like pointless things like that. Well, things with points. Just very small ones.

The line, "We're in Narnia!" cracked me up for two different reasons at once. Yes, this is like multi-tasking for people who can't multi-task. In Quebec, there was a giant wardrobe in the room, which I will remember fondly as what I hid in with Gabby to jump out at Christine, fit all four of us staying in the room in, and of course climbed into the moment I saw it and cried, "It's Narnia!" The other reason was Spiffy, who tried to convince her sister that the restroom at some restaurant was Narnia, pronounced NAH-nee-uh, without the r sound.

The cousin was, of course, absolutely spiffing as the Witch. Before I spend a while gushing about my wonderful cousin, I'd like to point out that she was one of the oldest people on stage, and therefore had more time to mature. Mature more in the sense of how fruit matures before falling off the branch than how people mature and begin to act more like adults. Anyway, the cousin did an amazing job. Especially with the shrieking and yelling. I'm sorry, cousin, but you're very good at screaming. Don't be offended; it's just the truth.

Adjectives Describing the Cousin's Performance:

• Dazzling
• Sensational
• Fabulous
• Spectacular
• Marvelous
• Impressive
• Astonishing

Adjectives that came up when I Searched "Sensational" that Do Not Apply to the Cousin:

• X-rated
• Rough
• Horrifying
• Juicy
• Agitating
• Scandalous

Five points to the person who can write the definitions of all of those as a comment.

There were only three things that bothered me about the play. The cousin was obviously not one of them. One: lots of people missed their cues and then just stood there. Two: the kid who was a forest creature and tripped every time he went onstage was not funny the first time or the fifth time. Three: Aslan.

My shadowy, dim memories of the book involve Aslan being, you know, proud and noble. A fab kind of lion who's a little distant at times because he's just more noble than everyone else, but still kind. The vibe I was getting from the actress (and it's not her fault; I think it was the costume) was more of a tribal princess vibe. I don't know if it was the grass skirt being used as a mane, the Pocahontas kind of dress, or the time she roared and also sort of twisted around and shook her mane. Whatever. I am done ranting about the play. It was all very lovely. I give it many points.

The cousin's posse knows me as the abortion one. I suppose I shouldn't be too annoyed; my posse knows the cousin as the cousin or Libby's cousin with the hair. This is as opposed to my cousin without the hair. Anyway, there is actually a reason they call me that. I will now tell you all. Gather 'round, dear readers: it's time for storytime.

It was once in the land of Slauson, and our heroine, Libby, was in her seventh-hour class. Seventh hour was almost over, and, seventh hour being the last hour of the day, school was almost over. The excitement was heavy in the room...heavy, like a box of elephants wearing some of those sunglasses with the little jewels in the corners. Chica (some of you may know him as Niraj) was bothering Libby.

"I know your future," he said.

"I'm sure you do," she said.

"You're going to go out with a guy in high school, and Jenny won't like him."

"What?"

"None of your friends will like him."

"Why?"

"He's a jerk."

"What? You think I'd date a jerk?"

"I know you'll date a jerk. Anyway, he'll get you pregnant and you'll have an abortion, even if it's not legal. So it'll all be okay."

End of story.

I told that to the cousin, and she told her posse, and they now know me as the abortion one.

After school (but before the cousin and her performance) I was lying on a bench on the deck. Spiffy doesn't like it when I lie on furniture at school; she says Sam and Anthony will attack me; but what she doesn't know won't hurt her. (Spiffy, if you're reading this: hi. I'm sorry. Sam wasn't at school, so it was totally safe.) Pascale came up to me and asked, "Libby, what are you doing?"

"I'm lying on the bench."

Chica came, too. "Libby, what are you doing?"

"I'm lying on the bench."

Claudia, however, began to yell at me about Big Brother before deciding to litter. "Let's litter, Libby!" Ooh, alliteration. She handed me her candy wrapper, and I chucked it over into the grassy place by the deck that's already filled with junk anyway.

"I feel so horrible! I'm a litterer!"

"Big Brother does not like your anti-environment sentiments," said Claudia.

"But I like Big Brother!"

"Anti-environment is anti-Big Brother."

Remember that, infidels.

Attack of the annoyingly entrancing animanga!

I may never stop lumping anime and manga into animanga. It's so much more fun to say.

Look at me, blogging without the cousin's violent Facebook chat messages popping up left and right on my screen. I'm very proud of myself. This is a big step for me: the step after blogging because it's still a novelty and blogging because it's become a habit. I usually need someone to shove me through this step until whatever it is I'm doing becomes habit, but today I'm not. Wow! So exciting. I really feel like I'm, you know, growing up or something.

I've just finished reading Fruits Basket Vol. 6 (did I mention I've become hooked? I'm hooked. It's the blondes...) and my mind is kind of spinning. Am I the only person who it's like that for? When I finish reading a good book--or manga, or comic--my head sort of spins. In a good way. It's like the characters and story are still in my head, wandering around, and I have to think everything out again. That's why I read books a whole bunch of times. And also because I skim the first time and don't pick up crucial plot details until the second or third reading...Breaking Dawn...

Anyway, I read books a few times, usually only getting up from the couch to eat, and then find someone else who's also read the book to talk to. Talk meaning yell at ("Oh my forking gosh, he chose his stupid clothes over life? That jerk! That jerk!") and hope they agree with me. If they don't, we can have a wonderful discussion about character motives. Everyone had better agree with me on the issue of Tom deciding he'd rather make dresses than live past sixteen, though. Can you tell I'm still bitter about that? Read the Magic or Madness trilogy by Justine Larbalestier to find out why. And read the first one first!

I still have a stack of books that is the size of Kansas on the shelf, just waiting for me to pull them away and open their pages, but I'm resisting. Writing instead of reading can be very hard. For me, anyway.

I have decided, overnight, to become a vain person. Yes. Vanity is suddenly pouring from my pores. And my vanity needs you to help it out and let it take over my body. Please help the vain impulses and comment on this blog.

I'm tired. And the brother is distracting me with questions, such as "Why is the guy who looks like a girl cross-dressing?"

Because cross-dressing is fun, that's why. I have personal experience. Of course, that was just to shake things up a little bit.

Look at all these wonderfully short things pretending to be paragraphs! I'm getting too tired to write any more. Yes, I am. I'm not just making excuses so I can run off and read.

Look, cousin! I made a whole tag, just for you! Be filled with happiness!