Day two of NaBloPoMo, and I'm already pushing off my entry until 11pm. Yikes.

Anyway, as I was flipping through the various entries written on November 2nd in years past, I noticed just how moody I get when the sun stops shining and the yucky gray of winter settles in. It's actually pretty hilarious how much of a drama queen I can be about this. For example, this entry from November 2, 2003 . . .

It is November already. That, for some reason, is quite depressing. Fall is pretty much over, and the rainy season between fall and winter has begun. When the rain turns to snow, winter begins. This is the most dreary time of the year, and it is both physically and mentally draining. Waking up in the morning becomes more laborious than ever, and I find it difficult to accomplish anything with the ever-present gloom of the atmosphere bearing down its weight on me.

I probably flung the back of my hand up to my forehead and put on my best "tortured soul" face. Man, I was a dork.

Then, I posted another boy-crazy LiveJournal entry in 2006, similar to the one I quoted yesterday.

So, though nothing will probably ever come of this, he's definitely still a cool kid to hang out with, and I sincerely hope that I'm lucky enough to find a guy like him to date one day.

Anyway, I'm gonna go dream about him a little right now . . . and hopefully stop dreaming in time for class.

I definitely did NOT wake up in time for class that day or any other day. I had a regular blasty-blast, but I'm pretty sure I won't be graduating college for another fifty years. Obviously, hanging out with boys is way more important than getting a diploma. Right?

Man, I still am a dork.

This year, for NaBloPoMo, we're gonna take a little walk down memory lane. I've been blogging since April 2002, which means that I started at the oh-so-awkward age of sixteen. I haven't yet put all my Diaryland and LiveJournal archives here at Rachelskirts.com, but let me assure you that I have a wealth of truly cringe-worthy memories stashed all over the internet. I think it's time to start rooting through those and sharing them with the world. After all, I feel bad picking on other people, but I can certainly pick on myself.

(Actually, I pick on people all the time. Ruthlessly. Wanna be friends?)

Anywho, check out this priceless tale from November 1, 2003:

Oh man, Mr. Funkhouser, the P.E. teacher, pulled the best prank yesterday. Apparently, students have been eating Mr. F's food off of his projector cart that he leaves in the music room during certain hours. Anyway, he's sick of people eating his food and taking his gum, so he set up a trap. He put Oreos in a bag, and he placed those on his cart before fourth period. The point is to check back after fifth period and note that if any Oreos are missing, the kids from Spiritual Life / Chapel Band are the culprits. However, Mr. Funkhouser, always trying to teach you to expect the unexpected, messed with these Oreos. Three of the Oreos were filled with toothpaste, three had garlic powder sprinkled onto the cream, and three had chili powder sprinkled onto the cream. Three were left untouched and oh-so-delicious.

Riveting stuff, huh? I also was really embarrassed by the grade I was making in history class at that point, so I made my friends decode it using my cell phone number.

Ok, pretend that my cell phone number is ***-****. Take the sixth digit and subtract one. That's the first number in the grade. The second number in the grade is the fourth number in my cell number. Yeah, that's horrible. I seriously contemplated crying... or at least sniffling.

I was getting a 74. I'm still embarrassed by that. I must have somehow pulled it up, since I wound up graduating with a 4.0+ GPA.

(Never underestimate the powers of being a teacher's pet.)

The entry that cracks me up the most, however, is the one from last year, mostly because I wrote this really overdramatic piece on how much I was falling for this guy and what a cool person he was and how I should probably move on since he was NEVER EVER gonna like me back. I felt free to be really boy-crazy on LiveJournal because of the whole option to make "friends-only" entries. Seriously, that blog is like a really bad soap opera without any action.

Instead of getting a butterfly tattooed on my lower back two years ago, what I needed to do was tattoo a reminder across my hands saying, "Stop obsessing over the boys whom you cannot have." [Having the word "whom" tattooed on my body would make me feel incredibly superior to the snotty professor who wrote the article in the Northwest Herald a few years back saying that "whom" should no longer be included in English dictionaries. He felt it was an obsolete word. Fool.] Perhaps the tattoo would've have been enough to keep me from falling for the most recent fellow to inadvertently seduce this pirate wench.

But yeah, here I am, exactly one year later, still pining after the same guy and wanting to gush all over the place about how dreamy he is (way dreamier than Panera Kyle even) and blah blah blah. I also really want some Oreos.

Happy November, y'all! It's NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month), and I'm officially participating this year. I tried to prepare myself a bit in October by upping the frequency of my posts, but I'm sure that will be absolutely useless on days like today when I'd rather be sleeping at 7:30pm (wtf?) than sitting upright and attempting to compose sentences. Yesterday, though, I was so anxious for NaBloPoMo to start that I took down all my Google Ads (which, let's face it, were getting a little scandalous for a church employee's blog) and replaced them with cute little banners for the official NaBloPoMo website.

It's just gonna be one rockingly awesome month, and I can't wait to get started!