The Best, Most Honest, Most Gut-Renching Post IN THE WORLD.

It has come to my attention that I may be a bit too generous with my use of superlatives.

Is this my cross to bear? Can I help my ever-burgeoning zest for life? Can I quell these hotsprings of enthusiasm that spring from the least bit of stimulus? [I don't know where those words are coming from, by the way...they were literally the first things that came to mind. Too much Fancy Nancy in one day, I think. Consequently, while I basically adore those books, I detest the word "fancy" in reference to things that are particularly nice. I.e., "This dress is so faaaaancy!" instead of "This dress is pretty and classy and perfect for the occasion," or, "This place is so faaaaancy!" instead of "Nice restaurant." I think it's the fact that people on What Not To Wear use it a lot in defense of their gross clothes and it annoys me, hence the newborn aversion. Right. Moving on.]

I feel like my random outbursts on things such as the word "fancy" and sudden bouts of [possibly] excessive zeal are somewhat definitive of me... I like the fact that I'm passionate about a lot of different things that can be called forth at a moment's notice. Still, I understand how a lot of what I say could contradict itself.

For example, I recently told my newest BEST FRIEND Rachael that she was my favorite person in the world. Jessie was walking with us and just laughed. "You say that to nearly everyone, Carly," she said.

Affronted, I gasped. "I do not!" I insisted.

"Yes, you do!" she said. Then she put on airs and started saying, "She is my favorite person. He is the most interesting person in the world. That is the craziest thing that has ever happened to me. Oh my gosh - I'm dying!"

In a fit of transcendence, I recognized my own catchphrases. I'm pretty sure that I stopped walking in order to better stare at Jess and Rach in disbelief, but that might just be my own dramatic reinterpretation of the event.

Also, a certain individual at work has taken to looking at me meaningfully every single time I use the word "phenomenal," which, as it turns out, is quite frequently. Add to that the lively and energetic impression of me pacing around a hallway that ANOTHER coworker did, and it leads me to one conclusion.

I have superlative issues.

There, I said it. Want more? I have a flair for the dramatics. [That one hurt a little bit.] Also, I tend to emphatically stress certain words when I'm speaking... and while we're on the topic, I might be slightly annoying in general, because of the breathless pace of my mannerisms when I'm excited.

I guess I should have figured out that I had issues when I told my mom about my day in a normal, chilled out manner and she just said, "What's wrong? Why are you sad? You're not gushing about how AWESOME your classes are and how IN LOVE you are with your friends... what is going on?"

In my mind, I know that not every offbeat, quirky, individualistic character I meet is the most interesting person ever. I know that I can only have one favorite person in the world [at a time, at least], and even then that it probably isn't prudent to share with the rest of the world. I have never had a revelation so extreme and amazing that I actually run the risk of dying, like I always claim, and I suppose Terry's fake pregnancy on Glee doesn't actually make her the WORST PERSON IN THE WORLD. I know that not every book I read can be the best book I've ever read and that not every professor can be all THAT much better than the one before.

Still, is it horrible to be so enamored with the world around me? I mean, I'm rarely bored. And I'm quite easily entertained. And I would rather be known as that weird girl who gets too excited about life than the muted, emotionless girl. Duh.

It's just that, now that I'm conscious of all of this, I'm really conscious of it. I keep catching myself in the middle of the word "phenomenal" or I'll be about to say that someone is my faaaavorite person in the world... and then I stop halfway through and try to rephrase. But why? I don't care. It's who I am. Extremist. Passionate. Excitable. Ridiculous. My best friend Jessie says, "She's just being Carly."

Okay. I'm going to bed. This is the most annoying blog in the world.