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.

Insomnia: I guess it could be worse.

I can't sleep. Sadly two am has become my new normal bedtime and yet I still can't sleep. My family (and I mean the whole famdambly) is going to Charleston on vacation tomorrow, so I guess I'm a little excited about that, but I don't know if that would affect my sleeping pattern. I dropped my dog off with my bestie and I'm used to having his paws pressed into my back as I sleep, but I don't know if that is it either. I just can't sleep. I'm pretty much done packing too so I can't even use this time to be productive.

I am not going to be nice in the morning. I guess I can sleep in the car if the need arises.

So now I get to spend a solid seven days with people that will most likely drive me insane. I won't even have whatshisface or bestie there to break up the monotony. Too bad I'm a couple months too young to inhale liquor (you know just incase things hit a snag). Oh by the way, Charleston SC (because I utterly despise West Virginia) is by far my favorite place in America. I'm just super saiyan.

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.

I'm a smidgen overwhelmed. Just a smidgen.

Today my NC History professor told me I didn't look like the type to have tattoos and that I must have a wild side. It made me wonder what I look like. I mean I thought people would expect people like me to have tattoos, but then again I don't look the way I act.

It is almost time for me to register for classes for next semester and one of the ones I want is already full, which prompted me to rant about priority registration, because honors and teaching fellow kids are lucky bastards. If I stalk the registration page enough, I'll get the classes I want so don't worry. I'll probably just get 15 hours for now and stalk and stalk and stalk and stalk until I get that one class and I'll be up to 18 hours, and if you are familiar with college credit hours that is indeed a lot, and I am indeed crazy. But you knew that.

I have a speech proficiency test tomorrow. It is a requirement to get into the college of ed. I think it is dumb, but I exempted out of the pain in the butt requirement so I'll let this go.

I also have to do some volunteer work so I don't get kicked out of he honor society. I only have 4 of the required 15 points, so I need to get on the ball. If I hadn't already blown so much money on this, I would probably just quit, because I don't really have the time for it, and I'm going to just join the History and Social Science Honors societies, because you just pay them money and they give you chords and leave you alone. I guess I'll give it a good college try and if I get kicked out I'll leave it at that.

Yay college!

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.

Most college kids are getting drunk on a beach. I'm basking in the glow of 60 degrees.

I know why pretty people are so mean. It's being hungry and then having to be mad at yourself when you do break down and cram as many twizzlers (the sweet and sour kind) down your faces as humanly possible. At least in my experience that is. I love twizzlers by the way. I've lost four lbs, but I have so many more to go and dwelling on the subject will probably just depress me further. On to happy things...

I have recently descended the mountain to enjoy the warmth of the lower lands. Sadly, 60 degrees is  shorts and tank tops weather to any ASU you'll ever meet. It's really refreshing to not have piles of snow obscuring your sense of humanity. I'm a little mad that during my spring break is when Boone decides that bearable temperatures are a good idea. 

I wish I were on a sand dune: