Never go on webmd after 1 am.

Nothing good will come of it.

I'm not the type of person to be left alone with their thoughts. It really never works out well for me. I had the worst stomach pain I've ever had in my life (or what I have not successfully blocked out of my memory) tonight. There was no way that I wasn't going to hurt and feel nauseous. It just wasn't going to happen, so after a couple of hours of chanting "make it stop! make it stop! make it stop!" I made the foolish decision of looking at my symptoms on webmd. Now, I'm just waiting to fall over dead.

If you haven't been able to surmise from my curmudgeonly antics, I'm not the type of person to go to the doctor unless they are in fact dying.

My pain has ceased, so hopefully this won't be the last you hear from me. The only thing I have to deal with now is the fact that I probably won't be sleeping tonight, because it is now almost 7 in the morning. I did get a chance to research all the dog rescue options in my area for the next time I decide to adopt a dog. That's the only plus that's come out of this.

Moral of this story: Webmd scares me at night and never leave me alone with my thoughts, please. They make me do crazy things.

Sorry for the late reply.

I hate emails. Absolutely abhor them. I don't know how I should address people. If you're not my friend or a member of my family. I have no idea what to call you. It upsets me. I don't want to sound curt or moronic. I just hate emails.

Truthfully, I like them more than phone calls. I don't even know what to say to friends and family on the phone. I guess this is a symptom of my social awkwardness.

This was all brought about by my email exchange with a professor about a final paper topic, and my frustration is paramount right now.

Schockingly

I used to love this picture and would use it all the time. Oddly enough, I still like it. I look very shocked.

Oh the things I could do....

I'm exhausted. I'm hungry. And my brain is fried from all this knowledge my professors keep trying to shove in there. I want it to be summer very badly right now, and I've only been in class three and a half weeks. Yes, I am pathetic.

I just spent the last two days trying to make my blog look all spiffy. It was hard, but I used a whole bunch of layouts and tricks from Cutest Blog on the Block, which is a super fine website.

Oh, I have some hilarious pictures of my mother and I, that I thought I would share, because I truly am a giving person.

Something attracted us to the bling teeth.
It might have been my father pointing them out.
I maintain that my mother is a bad influence on me.

Just more proof, I should be living in a different era

I'm really a middle aged woman at heart. You could probably tell this solely from my fashion decisions. Today, I'm wearing a green top with puffy shoulders and cuffed capris with black scandals. It is even more evident when I'm having coffee with my vibrantly dressed roomie or my young at heart best friend (who says she acts like a grandma, but I tend to disagree).

I watch television with my mother, an actual middle aged woman. I actually go shopping with my mom and tell her what would look best, and we share clothes from time to time. This is odd because we have different body types and I'm a good four inches taller than she is. She borrows my clothes mostly come to think of it.

I like James Taylor and Carole King along with other musicians that usually find on the play list of the Baby-Boomers. I actually went to the Troubadour Reunion Tour for JT and CK, and I was one of the few young adults there.

I read classic literature more than works recently published. My two favorite authors are Oscar Wilde and Jane Austen both who worked in the nineteenth century for the most part. I have a thing for vintage things that I can't explain, because I have this weird aversion to previously used things (but that's a different crazy story for a different boring time).

I like more youthful things as well, but for the most part I prefer things that my parents seem to enjoy. I'm just missing the wisdom and maturity that comes with these refined tastes of mine.

As I look at months of neglected Chemistry, I realize

I know I do a fair amount of bitching at the end of every semester, because I, by nature, am very lazy. This is not helped by the fact that in the past minimal effort would suffice. I'm not some genius that destroys curves and blurts out answers to rhetorical questions, but without studying I can usually get a B. It's more of a curse than a blessing. It keeps me lazy and boosts my ego to this uncontrollable beast.

Oh, and here is the kicker. When I do study, I spend more time on the subjects I'm more likely to ace without the effort, because I usually like them better. And I don't want to even try with things that it's conceivable that I could fail. That's how I get As and Ds on the same grading period, although I haven't really done that since high school.

I guess the fundamental lesson here is that my moderately high GPA is not a real reflection of my character. Plus, I despise chemistry and all its little science buddies.

A long line of little bag-of-hell women

I am a bag-of-hell woman. It is not something I have control over. My great aunts both were very strong women that would do anything they had to do to get what they wanted. Frances ran for a seat on her town council when it was unheard of for women to hold office (at least in NC), while Verona had a technician job that was predominantly held by men. I'm also some sort of cousin with the first woman to be a chief justice in the state of NC, Susie Sharp.

My grandmother does not really have this trait, because those aunts I was referring to were my grandfather's sisters. My mother, aunt, and I , however, did inherit this slightly frightening personality trait.

I'm not abrasive or anything (most of the time). I'm polite and generally a nice person, but don't even think about getting in my way, because I will mow you down. It won't be pretty. It's one of those strong women things I share with my mother (and a whole long list of other women that look kind of like me).

You may mistakenly believe I have some sort of feminist leaning because of all those women, but it's quite the opposite. I never felt as if I couldn't do anything I damn well pleased because of those crazy ladies. I know I'm standing on the shoulders of giants and they shattered the glass ceiling before I even got a chance to look at it, but I don't think they would want me to think that I would ever have to struggle with sexism.

Isn't that the point of equal rights? That no one even sees the lines anymore? Because I defiantly don't see the lines. I don't see them between gender, race, religion anything. We're all different and whatever, but we're all capable of the same basic functions. Anyone can be smart or play a sport or fix a car. That's just the way I feel, and maybe I'm the only one.

But it was that long line of Bag-of-hell women that told me that we're all just people, and we all are just people.


Here's a little anecdote about great aunt Frances:
When she bought new clothes, she would bring them home in laundry bags and take the tags off. Then when her husband, Charlie asked her if she had just bought it when he saw her wear them, she would reply :"Charlie, you old dog! I've had these clothes forever. I can't believe you have never noticed them before!"

I'm genetically inclined to stir up trouble. I do and say anything I want, because that's the way it is in my family.

Another fun fact about Anne:

I pick the salt off of pretzels. I am that boring. I'm a monotone voice away from being the cure for insomnia. Just so you know.



UPDATE:
I have a lap full of salt due to this peculiar habit.

"Yeah Mom, I know..."

You know how when you are so similar to someone you begin to dislike them, because they remind you of yourself? All the women in my family might as well be clones of one another. We don't look the same, but that is the end of the list of things that are different about us. I can't spend more than an hour with more than one of them at a time without getting a little annoyed, and I know that's all on me. I just wish i didn't have the future right in front of me and talking to me. I'm going to be exactly like my mom. I mean, I'm a little more laid back than she is, but not by much. I love my mom and my grandma and my aunt, but we have a family vacation coming up, and I don't know if I can get through it without taking up a serious drinking problem.

This just in...

It's genetic. 

I'm still as insecure as the teenager I was.

We talked about self-esteem today in my Social Psychology class. we took an inventory of whether or not we had high/low self-esteem. Now, I know I have low self-esteem, but it's kind of weird when you know you have low self-esteem. It's not even on the moderate line or close, which I thought it would be at least close.

Of course high and low self-esteem both have their ups and downs. For instance, people with lower self-esteem have more accurate self appraisal, and are less likely than those with higher self-esteem to overestimate their abilities. So, I guess I'm less likely to make a jackass out of myself, which can be put in the win column.

Apparently, I'm also less likely to let things go. And I don't let things go. Bad things stick with me a whole lot more than the good, but I think of it as being prepared for all scenarios.

At least I'm ready for my life to fall to shambles.

I'm a psychology minor, and I took most of my classes for said minor a couple years ago. Now, that I have a psychology class again that is not about teaching children, I'm starting to self-diagnose again. I'm almost positive that both my mother and I are bi-polar.

The snow is getting to me.

I've spent my week acting ten different kinds of crazy. I really need to go home. I've almost run out of clean clothes, and I'm sincerely homesick. The snow is getting to me. I know I picked a school nestled in the mountains, and how could I expect anything less than snow up to my knees? It reflects light and blinds me every time I dare look out the window. I'm just over this whole winter nonsense. Actually, I'm pretty much sick of school itself. I'm even graduating a semester early and it's not soon enough.

I don't do well in the cold. That's why I'm thinking Florida for grad school. Heck yeah.

I have to learn Greek now?

My life goals have altered several times over the course of life as it does for most people. Currently, I am on a fifteen year-ish plan when it comes to my future career. Odds are I'll give up the dream eventually, because lets be honest, I'm not the most driven person. Let me give you my plan:

1. Finish my undergrad degree. I have a year, a couple summer sessions, and my semester of student teaching. This is the most attainable of my goals. The one I am most focused on accomplishing.
2. Next I will teach for about five years, so I may pay down some of my school debt.
3. I will then go to get my masters in history education. I will probably achieve this at my current school, because I know it so well (we stick with what we know).  This should take me about two years, if I'm not incapable. I would love to get this done if not for an elevated pay. 
4. Teach a couple more years to pay down those debts.
5. Finally, get my Ph.D from either Greensboro or Florida. Depending on which college I choose and the degree I want to go for will dictate whether I must learn Greek or not. I'm not good with languages, so I should probably make up my mind and get to studying.
6. Then I will teach the unsuspecting college students of the world. Either about ancient Greece or Colonial Pirates (those are the two I'm considering)

These are just my professional goals. I also want to get married and have babies. Just thought you guys should know about what is pressing on my mind recently.

I have recently re-read all the files of writing on my computer. There is a ton more scribbled in notebooks hidden from the world's eyes, that I don't even want to think about. I found a story that I wrote three or four years ago that I always loved for the most part, which is rare for me. I hate the ending, but I never know how to end things. I just write until I get bored and then stop or if I'm feeling the story has run its course I kill someone off. I have several unfinished novels that have the potential to be good, but this story I read it and I want other people to love it too. I also want someone to help me fix it, but I can never find anyone that ever seems interested enough to pick through it. I also have a chronic fear of people judging me more harshly than I have already judged myself.

Anywho, this story has taken over my free thinking space. I don't have a lot at the moment seeing as how I'm in exam week. I need to find an editor. I had a friend once that I would have actually trusted with this crazy task, because her life's goal was to become an editor, but there has been bad blood, and now I only have friends that don't even like to read. I mean I can coerce some people into reading my stuff, but they usually just give out those superficial comments about plot points, and I need someone to give me criticism I can work with.

My dad reads all my term papers and school stuff to fix my grammar, but I need a substance person.

I need to make more friends for practical purposes I suppose. Oh and I need a human spell check to slap me around a little, because I cannot spell to save my life. Hmmm.

I'm self obsessed. I know it. I admit it. I wish I could fix it. I look at the ends of my hair all the time, because I have when my hair gets all ratty at the ends. This action gives me a headache and doesn't help my hair situation, but I do it about three hundred times a day. I look in the mirror a lot too.

I'm not really pretty. I know that, but I can't help thinking about my appearance all the time. I don't even have a problem with looking the way I do. I don't think it's really about appearance. It's more about the way it feels like greasy skin and fried hair.

I just thought you should all know I only think about myself.