allow me to introduce you to me

You’d think I care. Maybe I do. Perhaps I don’t.

You’d think my writing reflects my cheerful demeanor--I’d think that, too. But hey, I guess we all have our secrets, our dark corners. We all worry and fret--is it narcisstic to think I do it more than other people? Yes? Okay. I shall purge the thought from my head.

You know those annoying girls who can get obnoxious when they want attention?

Yeah, I’m one of them. I wish I wasn’t, and I’m trying to get better, but the swing into loud and annoying is difficult to resist.

People say I’m a nice person. Which, I guess, is nice. But it’s a bland, isn’t it? I try to overcome the bland part of “nice” by unleashing my dorky self.

After all, it’s pretty easy to become less bland if you act as if you’re wearing polka-dots and stripes.

I don’t wear polka-dots or stripes. Usually it’s jeans, jeans, jeans, and more jeans. I do wear shirts, too, but I doubt you’re interested in me describing my style. Tank tops? Yep. Tee shirts? Yep. Logos of fandoms? Occasionally.

I used to be a book-eater. Not a book worm, a book-eater (which, I suppose, is practically the same thing ...) I used to devour stories in days. I had a rule that I could only bring home 300+ page books because anything shorter I’d finish in a single day and I couldn’t bring that many books home from the library for a week. My arms were too small and the bag quickly became too heavy.

Nowadays, I find time only to study, chat online, and write. Right now, I’m taking precious studying time to write this because I’m a procrastinator who hates math and guess what I have to do? I could just do something else, but I’m a creature of schedules and if I can’t do it at its proper time then why bother doing it at all?

Of course, that’s the procrastinator speaking. Logically, if I want to improve my SAT scores, I’d study from dawn to dusk, but I can barely manage getting up at 8:00. Which is probably because I can barely manage getting to bed before 12:30 A.M. What can I say? I’m a nocturnal creature born in a diurnal body. The stars and moon have always been more fascinating than the sun.

I used to stay up until 3:00 in the morning to finish rereading Harry Potter. I wish I could do that, still. Reading was such a wonderful escape. Now, I’ve become picky. I can’t turn my writing brain off, which I guess is fine, but it means I enjoy reading less which means I’m not studying my own academic.

Academics. Shit.

I turned eighteen in July. Which, FYI, is mildly terrifying for multiple reasons. I’m beginning to pull it together. I have a game plan. Executing the plan is easier said than done, but it’s getting there.

College seems like such a strange, distant thing. I’ve never sat at a public school desk except for my first SAT. I’m homeschooled, always have been. I live out in the middle of freaking nowhere. I still don’t have my driving license and really only just started practicing driving. Because, where I live, there are just few enough people that the people who are here think they can drive crazy in places that would optimally be my driving practice areas. Except, you know, the crazy drivers are there.

Oh, I suppose you non-traditional schoolers (did you know, back in the day there were no public schools and parents actually had to do the work of being with their kid and teaching them?) you want to ask some pretty stupid questions.

What grade am I?

Do you like it?

Would you rather do public schooling?

And, the big question: how do you *[gasp]* socialize?

A warning: I’m in a pretty sour mood at the moment (writing about such serious topics and procrastinating does that to me--yes, I’m a masochist), so my insincere apologies if I insult you.

-Grades were created specifically for public school because they have big classes. They weren’t made for homeschooling and classes of (at most) three, so why would I use that system?

-Of course I like it, I’m not forced to spend time with idiots and hormone-fueled teenagers.

-If you’re asking this question, you seriously need to do some retrospection.

My apologies to the people who are reading this to see if I’m a good contestant; I started to ramble. My only defense is that the best way to know me is if I let you know some of the things that tick me off.

I should end with a conclusive note. A wise sentence to tie this all together. As a reader, I’d appreciate it. I mean, you’d think I care. Maybe I do.

But perhaps I don’t.