Recent self-discoveries*

• I don't like animals.



• I don't care about what I look like anymore. At all.

The first discovery, I'm sure you're astonished by, as I've always been the advocate of our little furry friends in this world. But something has happened, and now I can't stand it when a dog licks my hand or a cat brushes up against my leg. I can't stand the fur that I find EVERYWHERE in my house, the smell of dog-food, or the incessant barking anymore. I have even resolved to never own a dog when I'm older--they're just too much work for too little in return. Wow. I know you are shocked right now. I was when I finally realized this, but I got over it.

The second discovery I'm sure is only temporary, and most likely stems from transitioning from a place where run-ins with attractive dating prospects occur frequently to a place where I see so few boys my age that I've actually begun to size-up the deacons in my ward. Don't worry, I am not a pedophile. But seriously, I look gross. My wardrobe basically consists of dirty over-sized t-shirts (of which I am in no short supply due to my enrollment at a university that believes if it's going to charge an arm and a leg for tuition, it should at least make sure it's students are clothed--if not out of kindness than out of revery for the honor code) and boxer shorts. I don't wear makeup anymore, I don't brush my hair (you think I'm kidding? I'm not). My mother has stopped asking me if "I'm really going out in public like that" and I'm pretty sure I've been mistaken for a bum more than once.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!*

Well folks, guess what day it is?
That's right! It's the day that the dear author of this blog (not me. Remember this post?) was born, 19 long years ago.
Unfortunately, we've yet to agree upon a suitable pseudonym for her, so I'm just going to revert back to GB. Don't like it? Get over it.

Okay, GB, the rest of this post is addressed to YOU.

A few weeks ago, when I was going through all my stuff, getting ready to move from my old room to my current room (pictures to come when it's finished), I found a bunch of old junk, as you can imagine.
But in that pile of junk, there was a letter addressed to you that I'd been planning on giving you after graduation.

Well, obviously graduation was last year, and obviously you don't have the letter, because guess what? I have it. But because it's just too good to be thrown out and also because it's your birthday, I'm going to type it up, right here and now on this blog, just for you. It goes a little something like this:

First of all, congratulations on graduating. That's like, huge. Almost like winning the Nobel Peace Prize. Anyway, I figured that we should enter our new lives with a clean slate, so I've searched my soul and decided to forgive you for the grievous wrongs you've committed against me.

• I forgive you for making that hideous blue mark across the back of my yearbook Junior Year



• I forgive you for falling asleep during our LOTR marathon



• I forgive you for taking that hideous picture of me sleeping at EFY



• I forgive you for popping your zits in front of me



• I forgive you for saying that my Grandma is strange



• I forgive you for refusing to eat lunch with me Senior Year



• I forgive you for leaving me alone with Ms. Newby and her bf that one day when we stayed late working on baby ads



• I forgive you for shoving all your memorabilia of me in a box. Under your bed.



• I forgive you for throwing away the acorn I brought you all the way from Gettysburg



• I forgive you for not wearing purple eye shadow even though I tell you to all the time



• I forgive you for hating animals



• I forgive you for forgetting to wear deodorant



• I forgive you for laughing at me when I fell playing dodge ball at BBBS that one time



• I forgive you for wrecking my social life

Wow, what a list. But don't let that stress you out, because I believe thanks are also in order...

• Thank you for discovering the air conditioning in my car



• Thank you for driving me around when I was too afraid to drive myself around



• Thank you for picking me up all the way in Logan when I went to see another friend



• Thank you for participating in my social norms project in 11th grade



• Thank you for bringing me cupcakes and magazines when I botched my hair



• Thank you for doing all the work in Physics



• Thank you for introducing me to BLTs and the awesomeness of cemeteries and the wonder of that green hair gel



• Thank you for the stellar quilt you made me for Christmas



• Thank you for the word "stellar"



• Thank you for bringing me cookies AND milk when I was having a bad day



• Thank you for not being (too) mad at me when I said the plane ticket prices would go down and they went up



• Thank you for supporting my aspirations to join the Peace Corps and marry an African



• Thank you for being such a good influence, such a genuine person, and finally, thank you for being my best friend!

Aren't you so glad I didn't throw that away? Me too. Lots of great memories I bet you forgot about, and possibly still don't remember.


HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GB!
But how could you NOT have a happy birthday? You're in Mexico!

Oh, I know. Maybe because I'M not there!!

The Book*

Well, I don't know where I was in my epic up-and-coming novel last time I talked to you about it, but, having absolutely NOTHING to do all day long these days, I've been working like crazy on it, and I'm proud to announce that I am currently up to a whopping 41,428 words. That's 92 and a quarter pages, 12 point font, 1.5 spacing, normal word margins. Don't be fooled though. 92 and a quarter pages on the computer is prolly like, 200+ pages in an actual book.
In case you don't know, and I know for a fact that you don't, the acceptable word count for a novel is between 40,000 and 80,000, words, give or take a few thousand depending on the publishing company. And if you're a brand new baby author like me, you can absolutely not go over 100,000 words.
I know you're prob. thinking, "Well, that's lovely GP. But I don't really give a &$!#."

Guess what though? You should, because it's kind of a problem considering I'm not even half-way done with the story yet. I mean, I thought I was, but then I got to thinking about the massive amount of detail that needs to go into the latter part of the storyline, and I was like "Whoa. No waaay I can keep this under 100,000 words!"

Anyway, I just thought you should be aware of my writing woes since you were going to be my manager once, remember?

Position's still open.