The Embarrasing Results of My Issues with Social Interaction, by Annie Deitz (Blog 11)

0
That figure represents the number of classes (outside of this one) that I have shared with Nate Dutch.
3
That figure represents the number of facts Isabel Bandoroff told me about Nate Dutch this morning.
1.) He loves Michigan State.
2.) He plays basketball for fun.
3.) He is good at Spanish.
While I am extremely grateful for these useful and true facts about my seat partner, I still don't really know him well enough to categorize him as an animal or color. He seems like a fox and a spruce, but for all I know he could be terrified of foxes and a complete periwinkle.
So rather than answer those parts of the prompt, I'm going to create a list of assumptions- as well as the proof that led me to them.

1.) He might actually be the smartest person in this class. Sorry (but I'm not)
- I think out of all of the vocab quizzes we have taken this semester he has answered two incorrectly. I'm not joking. Two. Maybe even one. Who does that? No one.
- He's good at Spanish. Isabel told me. And he's in AP Spanish. Advanced Placement Spanish. Why would you do that if you weren't really good at Spanish.
-He takes Calculus Two. Correct me if I'm wrong Nate, but I know you're not in Calculus One anymore because Mrs. Dewees has your star up on her wall. What does this star resemble? THAT HE SCORED A FIVE ON THE AP CALCULUS EXAM. AS A SOPHMORE.
Honestly, that alone completely supports my claim.

2.) He is a reserved person.
-He isn't shy. He talks to me, to us (us being those in the corner where we sit), sometimes. But he normally refrains from speaking. Possibly he hates us, rather than him not talking to us because of an aspect of his personality he doesn't talk to us because we bother him. Both likely reasons.

3.) He needs pens.
-He typically borrows my pens when we grade vocabulary quizzes. It's not a problem, I love lending him my pens. It's just an observation.

Wow Nate, I'm sorry, I've let you down. Not only have I apparently ignored most of your existence, I have had extreme difficulties hypothesizing anything about you that wasn't directly given to me. I'm hoping that you will have the same difficulties writing about me, and knowing my inability to conduct ordinary social interaction you might. Goodnight Nate. Goodnight Mr. Logsdon. Goodnight Mr. Logsdon's fourth hour English class. Goodnight Isabel, thanks for helping me. Goodnight any other random person who for some reason read my unnecessarily long and unfortunate train wreck. Have a wonderful week.