The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched, they must be felt with the heart .

Okay. Crappy start to a crappy day. I found out today through Early Evaluation from Wellesley College that "unlikely" will I be join their 2015 class. LAME. That's okay, Wellesley wasn't my first choice. My first choice is Barnard, but now I'm incredibly worried because Barnard is more selective than Wellesley and I can't even get into Wellesley. So, I'm wishing, hoping, praying that the reason Wellesley rejects me is because I am not the right fit, which I am for Barnard! Please, please, please let me get in.

I was worrying all evening; I couldn't do homework; I just surfed College Confidential, looking for someone to say, "Oh, Barnard? What's that? An all-girl school? Eww. Even living in New York is not worth going to a girl school. That school is so easy to get in because nobody applies there." Nobody did say that, unfortunately. Somebody did say, however, to stop stressing because I did all that I could and now it is out of my hand.

Good things come to those who waits. Well, I'm waiting. I'm waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting, and I'm sick of waiting. I want to go and get it myself, but I don't have the means to do it. To acquire the means to do it, I have to wait for a bit longer. Well, I hate waiting. I am terrible at waiting.

M. Brucker from English class got kicked out because he didn't show up to class; Mlle. Johnston's crush turns her off because she realizes how much of an asshole he is.

My God, please excuse my French. I don't know why, but I currently find the word "ass" very attractive and fun to say. Like, "that's a huge-ass bird" and "that's a French-ass name, Yvonne." I need to stop cussing so much. It is not at all lady-like. To do that, I have to stop hanging out with Mlle. Hatfield and Johnston. They both use terms like "whore" and "slut" as endearment. Well, more Mlle. Hatfield than Mlle. Johnston, but Mlle. Hatfield uses "hon" and "sweetie", so shit stuff cancels out.

I called Mme. McElroy today to reschedule our weekly piano lessons to have her daughter pick up the phone and informing me that her mother had taken a turn for the worse and probably would not be teaching anymore; she couldn't even talk. It's really sad. I won't say I hope she gets better because I've been saying it every since her body hinted at being cancerous, so it obviously doesn't work. God, I feel so horrible because my brother and I would get really happy whenever she called and canceled our lessons because of her bad back or funky health.

Life is an endless struggle full of frustrations and challenges, but eventually you find a hair stylist you like.

I am in love with my new hair! Mlle. Hatfield came over today and dyed it for me like I'd asked her to last week. Before, it was a dark brown, almost black, color. Now, it's completely black and I love it! Thank God for Mlle. Hatfield!

Mlle. Johnston needs to stop dating ugly boys, period. She's so pretty, and I hate to see it being wasted on people who don't deserve it. I found out today that she dated M. Reith, who is the ugliest and most-mutated looking kid I've ever laid eyes upon. He doesn't even have a nice personality; he was a complete jerk to her when they were dating. He was the one who broke up with her, but the problem now is that the guy that Mlle. Johnston likes is M. Reith's best friend. We are hoping that guys don't follow the "you can't date your best-friend's ex" rule, and, if they do, Mlle. Johnston would be an exception because her ex broke up with her.

I wonder how other people see me. Do they think I'm attractive? I think I'm not the most attractive girl out there, but I think I'm prettier than the average plain Jane, which, of course, isn't saying much. Like, in the morning, the girl I see in the morning is very exotic and attractive, but sometimes I think she isn't me. Like, I just feel like I've somehow made a pact with the devil by putting on make-up and now he's sending someone to takeover my reflection. After the switch is flipped, the lights in my bathroom stays dark for two seconds before flickering for another three seconds before truly coming on. During those seconds in the dark, I always keep my eyes away from the mirror because I'm so scared of seeing another person there, staring at me in the dark. I did it once after wearing make up. I was tired and I just walked in without thinking and was so freaked out by seeing a dark figure in the dark lurching toward me. The lights came on, and I found myself staring at my reflection. Creepiest thing ever. If something happens to me in the future, the police will probably check my laptop first and when they do, they'll see the I visit blogger and this blog more than once a week. They'll have to hack into my account on my laptop, though, but once they do they'll look through my history and find out about this blog. They will read it and know what's happened to me.

Okay. That's all. God, I'm freaking myself out.

This is one of the reasons why I can't live alone. My overactive imagination makes things really scary at night.

The moment a little boy is concerned with which is a jay and which is a sparrow, he can no longer see the birds or hear them sing

I've figured out why I've been so depressed the last few days. Aunt Flo's a bitch pain every month.

It's not nice and lady-like to cuss.

So, I've been having problems with Calculus class lately. Mme. Kennedy, my Calculus AB teacher from last year, is very helpful, but I don't have time to ask her for help. Like, I get it when she does it on the board, but when she explains it to me one-on-one, I just hear a bunch of "secant" and "tangents'' and numbers, which signal to my brain to shut down. Numbers and directions are almost always stimulants for the brain to wander somewhere else. Before, I was staying behind after school for an hour to work on my Calculus homework because God knows I don't do it once I get home. I always have a really schedule for the day that I throw away the moment I step in the house. But now that I'm tutoring M. Hashime (for $10 an hour, four times a week), I have to do my homework at home, something that I've been doing very conscientiously. I am so proud of myself for that.

Anyways, today, there's a new boy in my English class. At first, I don't really realize that he was new. I just thought that he needed to talk to Mme. Berman and was from another period. I am spacing out (a habit that I really need to quit) and when I come to, I see him smiling at me. He's really cute and of average height. His name is M. Brucker. He looks new to the school, but I guess he's been here first semester. He's jock, though, and I'm kind of iffy about that. Mlle. Johnston agrees with me about him being cute and comments on how nice his abs must be since he's a jock. That girl needs to stop being so obsessed with nice abs. Mme. Berman sits him on my side of the class at the end, far, far away from me and Mlle. Johnston. The other girls check him out constantly during class. Mme. Berman brought cookies to class, and we got to eat them. She called out our names and said really nice things to each one of us. She compliments me on my intelligence and my lovely outfits, and Mlle. Johnston on her ballerina-ness.

I'm so glad that I'm taking more College Prep classes this year. Advance Placement boys are nerdy and boring. College Prep boys are cute--too bad they lack the grey substance.

I hope mine and M. Brucker's path cross in the very, very near future. Before prom, hopefully.

I also found out that Mlle. Johnston smokes regularly--although she claims to have tame her smoking habits and decrease the regularity of intake. She knows it's bad, but she likes doing it. God, what am I going to do with that girl. She's eighteen, so it's legal. I can't believe she smokes--she has teeth way whiter than mine and I have never smoked and never ever ever will.

People who build their houses in your heart.

Mlle. Smith and I just kind of shared how we felt about this little predicament we constantly finds ourselves in this year. It's the closest to a heart-to-heart I've ever been with anybody, and it was barely anything.

Anyways, I've long gotten over Mlle. Velasco and Mlle. Yasakova, and I am glad that Mlle. Smith is too. It was actually Mlle. Velasco anyways; I've never really clicked quite right with Mlle. Yasakova and am actually glad to see her go. It was Mlle. Velasco who I always have a jolly time with, but if she wants out, then who am I to stop her? I mean, I've tried getting the four of us back together at my sleepover, but that apparently didn't work. If it is just me and Mlle. Smith who are putting effort into this unrequited relationship, why should we bother at all?

Mlle. Smith and I can have fun by ourselves. We'll go to Catalina after graduation to spend a weekend there. Mlle. Velasco and Yasakova can suck it for all I care.

During Mme. Berman's lecture, Mlle. Johnston went on a poking rampant. I must have jumped out of my seat when I felt the first poke. Anyways, she poked me to let me know that during my walk back to M. Dowden's class, she was watching me and thought I was really pretty with the wind in my hair. She said I had a very satisfied and accomplished look on my face. My God, that was probably that funniest thing someone'd ever said to me because when I was walking back to M. Dowden's room, I happened to forget which one was his, so I just picked a random room (which turned out to be right) and was thinking, "Eff this. If it's wrong, it's wrong. I'll go to the next room if it's wrong."

Mlle. Johnston also found a person to fall in love with. He's a homeschool-er. Our grade. Very cute, tall, and tan. With very, very nice abs. I hope they'll get together and she'll take him to prom. She's pretty and does not deserve to settle for ugly boys like her ex-boyfriend.

A single rose can be my garden...a single friend, my world.

Please let my life next year be much better than my life this year. Not that is is horrible, but it just seems that way sometimes. Not horrible, definitely not horrible--more a long the line of being almost unbearable. The monotony is getting crazier and crazier. I just can't help but somehow feel like Madame Bovary. She, too, lives in a boring little town while yearning for a cosmopolitan life in the city. Her feelings, though they are sometimes wrong, are a lot deeper and more profound than those around her. Yes, she cheats on her husband, but it is in search for idealized passion and fantasies. I don't like her ending. Hopefully my ending will be in a little cottage by the sea in the north of France where I can easily cross the English Channel to England if I'd like, surrounded by paintings and flowers.

Two years ago, I remember us girls planning our wedding and me saying, "If I were to have my wedding right now..." and describing my wedding plans. Back then, my bridesmaids would have been Mlle. Tran (the elder), Tran (the younger), Velasco, Smith, Johnston, Hatfield, Coleman, and Hai (my cousins Mlle. La and Truong and my sister are automatically in my wedding, so there's never a need to mention them).

If you were to ask me now, I would say none of them. I and Mlle. Tran (the elder), Johnston, and Coleman have drifted apart considerably to the point where I have to ask for pictures of the things Mlle. Coleman likes to get inspired by to design her prom dress. Mlle. Velasco doesn't even remember my birthday even though I've known her seriously for three years and I always remember hers and get her nicer presents than I get Mlle. Smith except for this year. Plus, she's too busy hanging out with her GAPP friends to hangout with me and Mlle. Smith anymore. Mlle. Hai is just weird and awkward and would seriously mess up the aesthetics. Plus, the others girls don't like her and she always forget to return my Amelie DVD. Mlle. Smith and I have an uneasy and superficial friendship going on where we both don't have any other close friends and must cling to each other to not appear like losers. I don't think we're real friends. I would invite her to my wedding though because I am awfully fond of her. Same with Mlle. Tran (the younger) and Mlle. Hatfield. I do like Mlle. Hatfield a lot. She has a very high chance of being my bridesmaid. But if she's my bridesmaid, I sort of have to ask Mlle. Smith also, and if I ask Mlle. Smith, I kind of have to ask Mlle. Velasco even though she's been a very bad friend lately, and with Mlle. Velasco comes Mlle. Yasakova because the four of us make a group. No, I think it is understandable if I ask Mlle. Smith and not Mlle. Velasco.

God, I'm such a bitch sometimes.

I found this dress that I really like. Almost as equally as the prom dress I've designed. 

I really like the split hem. It elongates the legs and accentuates the simple allure of catching glimpses of skin. I kind of want to redesign my prom dress to something like this, but it'd be kind of hard to dance in something like this, yeah? I've got nice legs, and I wouldn't have to worry about whether or not my back decides to break out or not. I don't know. I'll see what I can do.

Of all the animals, the boy is the most unmanageable.

I've just remembered something from Thursday, the day we went to see "Master Harold" and the Boys that makes me kind of really mad. Mlle. Yasakova let it slip during a conversation that the reason she missed my birthday party was because she was on a date with someone she barely knew. He'd asked her the night before while I sent out my save-the-dates three weeks in advance. I wasn't paying attention, but now that I remember that part of the day, I am so incredibly miffed.

The Borders in O. is closing. I've had six years of memories with that store. Since my parents always take us to work with them, the bookstore was the only place to escape boredom. We would slip away every chance we got and hung out there reading books and magazines until it was time to go. And now they're closing it. Anchor Blue was closed a few days ago, but I am so much more bummed out about Borders closing. It's like a little piece of my childhood and memory taken from me. I wish things didn't change as much. I wish things would just stay the way they are, suspended in space and time, letting me come to terms with growing up at my own pace instead of taking things from me and forcing me to go faster.

On a happier note...when I was there today, I saw this little baby. Well, she wasn't technically a baby. She couldn't talk, so I'd say she was at most two. Anyways, I was reading, but every time I looked she was staring intensely at me. At first, I was like of surprised and taken back. Then I smiled at her. She just kept staring. I went back to my book, and when I looked back at her, she smiled at me. And then she gave me a little wave. Cutest little baby ever!

Here's another happy note...I talked to M. McElroy today! Eeek! That's terribly exciting. He called me and left me a voice message regarding my brother's piano lesson (oh, how boring. I wish it was about something else). I called back and got his mother. I talked to her, and she couldn't hear me very well and gave the phone to her son (thank God!). He wasn't very eloquent and he stumbled and um-ed a lot during our conversation regarding the time and place of my brother's performance, but he sounded very manly--something I heartily welcome after spending eight hours a day, five days a weeks in the company of immature, little boys. Anyways, we are coming over to their apartment tomorrow to take lessons, and hopefully I'll get to see him there, and, hopefully, he looks as good I as remember. There are few things better than gazing at an attractive male specimen.

Speaking of romantic interests, there's this guy that works for my parents. I don't really know his last name, so I'll just call him Monsieur X--since I am very fond of the painting Madame X, just saying. He's about 21 to 25, kind of nerdy looking--tall and thin and gawky, but it's cute that way. I never thought it would happen, but I developed a small crush on him last summer, when I practically lived at the shop. Well, it would have never worked out since we were from different world, and I very much prefer my world to his. Summer came and went, and I was no longer always at the shop. I met new people and surrounded myself with others who were superficially like me. Now that new variables were introduced, our old condition no longer applied. Our little world in the shop shattered, and my crush disappeared along with it.  The reason I mention him now is because I suspect the table's turned: he has a crush on me now. One can tell if one inspects closely enough, which I hope nobody is doing. It's a silly little crush, like my infatuation with him, and it'll be gone in no time.

Back to M. McElroy...nothing is going to happen with him either, I'm sure. It'll be highly inappropriate for him to be thinking of dating anyone while his mother is dying let alone one of her students.

Guess who bought another self-taught French book? MOI, bien sûr. That's probably already 90% of the French I know. Time to learn more.

The most terrible poverty is loneliness, and the feeling of being unloved.

I realized today how lonely my life is. I have family who care for me, but they don't really understand me. I have friends to hang out with, but sometimes I just feel like there's wave after wave of people who just don't understand. Once I realize that how things are going to be until July or August, the most forlorn feeling came over me. It's suffocating, like someone's taken a hold of my windpipe and is slowly squeezing it shut.

I don't know if it's me. Like, things would have been different if I had shared my thoughts and feelings a little bit more, but there's always this fear of being bothersome and annoying.  I mean, sometimes my thoughts are very petty and malicious, and I sure as hell don't want to show that side the world. Like, with Mlle. Yasakova, I've finally figured out why she made me feel sick yesterday: all she does is complain. I don't want to be the kind of person that weights others down with my negative thoughts. Am I ever going to meet someone who will know and accept me in my entirety? Am I going to meet someone and accept that person in his/her entirety? In this world of billions of people, how am I going to meet the man who's supposed to be my soul mate before the age of thirty? How will I know if he's The One? What if I'm not The One for him? What then? I won't settle for second best, so the most likely scenario is that I'll live alone for the rest of my life. I just want someone who knows and understands me, someone who knows where I'd be if I ran away, someone who just knows and remembers things about me because he cares and pays attention.

But where am I going to find someone like that in this day and age--the era of one-night stands?

Anyways, today, after realizing that, I kind of went through the motion of being there without actually being there. When it was time to go to the Renaissance Fair, I considered just going to the library and go on StumbleUpon because I just didn't feel like being with other people, but I made myself go to the fair. I walked with Mlle. Johnston, but we split up when we found our prospective groups. However, I was left to stand alone in line when Mlle. Smith and Yasakova went in ahead because they have already gotten their tickets (Mlle. Velasco couldn't go because she's gotten a C in Calculus last semester.) I got my tickets and decided not to call and meet up with them inside like planned. I hate being a tag-along; I'd prefer my pride to stay in tact, thank you very much.

As I entered, I saw that the gym was filled with people, and as they walked past me, I just wondered how, among so many people, I couldn't manage to find anyone like-minded. I barely got to past the door when Mme. Mills asked me to fill in for one of the face painting girls who couldn't show up. With nothing to do, I accepted even though I had strongly opposed before. It made time go faster. 

Anyways, Mlle. Smith and Yasakova came to the face painting table to hangout with me, but the music was too loud, I was with other people, and so they were just talking to each other the whole time. Time passed and Mlle. Yasakova left to who knows where. I didn't ask because I didn't realize that I didn't know where she was headed until now. 

Mlle. Smith then asked why I didn't meet up with them. I told her why. Then she told me she wished I had been there because all Mlle. Yasakova did was complain about everything, though I don't really know how my presence would make it any better. She started to complain about Mlle. Velasco and Yasakova, but Mlle. Ocampo was there, so I told her to save it for later since Mlle. Ocampo is a sneaky little rat who would purposely try to break our group up just to spite me. We had a nice time face painting after that. Mlle. Lee painted the corner of my eye a really nice design, but she did it in red, which made it look like I broke out in hives and boils from afar--something I didn't realize until after school had ended (after a presentation in English). I gave Mlle. Smith a really nice blue design that the other girls who were there wanted the exact same one, but I gave them all different ones. 

After that, I gave a presentation in English. Mme. Berman said she really liked my review on the movie Becket and would consider giving me seventy points out of fifty, which is so good since I just failed my math test earlier in the day. I was really proud of myself because I did a really nice job reading out loud--something I totally suck at because I ready a lot faster with my eyes than with my lips, so by the time I'm done pronouncing a word, my eyes are already on the next line, which makes it so hard and confusing for me to read. This time, I practiced for half an hour the night before and read fluently and clearly the day of. Yay!

In painting, us AP kids went in the gallery room and had a lovely time with the leftover hennas and face paints. Some of the regular Painting kids joined us even though they weren't supposed to--Mme. Mills would totally freak out if she knew they weren't doing their work. All and all, it was a nice ending to a crappy start.

I've been working on watercolor lately and I really enjoy it until today. A few days ago, I worked on the upper portion of Mlle. Smith's face (her eyes and nose) and did that in crimson and yellow ochre. The result was amazing (if I do say so myself), but not I can't help but look at other colors and compare it to those ones. Nothing could top it. Nothing could measure up to the loveliness of the combination, so now I'm stuck doing the same colors (crimson and yellow ochre) over and over again. I'm going to try and working in shades of grey with crimson tomorrow to see how it goes. Red is not my favorite color, but it is my favorite color to accent with. And the only colors that look good with red are black and yellow ochre. I do hope that the grey idea will work out.

Yesterday, I started this workout thing that was supposed to tone my butt. I did that since I overstretched the other day, which made my thighs unstretchable yesterday. Well, not my butt is off-limit too because it is so sore from the workout. I didn't even know I could be sore in those places. Tough.

The absence of alternatives clears the mind marvelously.

I went to see Master Harold and the Boys today. It was exceptionally emotional. The boy playing Master Harold is very cute, but he's not my type. I don't know what my type is, but I know he isn't it. He seems to be highly intelligent too. Very good actor.

Now that my mother is gone, the house is very empty and quiet without her. It makes me think of how empty it will be when I leave and how disappointed and sad my parents will be when they realize I won't be returning to California to live permanently. That's eight years from now, so I won't have to deal with that now.

When I went to see the play today, I went to Mlle. Yasakova. It was nice talking to her, but I always get a sick feeling afterward. She's getting involved with M. Pei--who is just bad news no matter how or where you put him. Anyways, I told her what I thought of the matter, but everything depends on her decision. She's a grown-up now. She's making her own decision.

But it's my scattered thoughts that keep me sane.

I am finally, legally 18!

I've been feeling so empowered lately. Usually, I'm the kind of person who just floats in life. Now, I want to be person who actually tries. I want to actually do my best, actually study this last semester of high school. I want to be a person deserving of the gifts and advantages that I've received.

My mother's just left for Vietnam a couple of minutes ago. It's hard to believe, but I was kind of sad to see her go. Usually, I couldn't careless. Well, that sounds cold and heartless, but I know she's coming back, so I'm not that worried. Can you believe she's taking my camera with her? I'm useless for three weeks!

Yesterday, I saw M. Naylor again. He greeted me first, and then gave me a hug. I suspect that he was high the whole time we were having a conversation. I mean, he was talking normally, but the way he bobbed his head as he walked was kind of suspicious. Anyways, he walked me to class and gave me another hug. Okay, so he's gone for a year and now he's giving two hugs in five minutes? Definitely odd.

My thoughts are all over the place. They can't seem to settle down. I've done this really neat watercolor painting and hopefully that's good enough for by breadth and quality. I hate how seldom I update this blog now and I can't even update it right. I'll do better next time, I promise.

My dream living room right there.

And you're sorry that the ephemeral beauty has faded so rapidly

This week is going to be exciting. I love checking my planner and finding out that I have days booked with fun events. Tomorrow, our AP Art class is going on a field trip to Old Town to meet local artists and have them instruct us on art-making and gallery-etiquette. I do love the architecture in Old Town. It is very quaint and lovely. Mme. Mills says field trip, us seniors are thinking more a long the line of excursions. It'll be so much fun tomorrow.

Then, when I get home, I'll get to photograph the lovely Mlle. Johnston. She'll be made up with red lipstick and dark, smokey eye make up. I'm going for the femme fatale kind of look, but maybe not quite so dangerous. She does have such a pretty and interesting face.

Anyways, I took pictures outside of Mme. McElroy's house yesterday while my brother had his lesson with her. There was a beautiful cherry blossom tree outside, and the lighting was just right, so I couldn't resist.

A woman's best love letters are always written to the man she is betraying.

Dearest Barnard,

I may have come off as standoffish, but I want you to know my true feelings. Please accept me as I am, for I have fallen head-over-heels in love with you. Others find your special interest in females as a fault, but I find it endearing. You will teach me the ways of the world like no one else can. I know you will love me too if you just look past my aloof demeanor, so please just say those wonderful three words: "I accept you."

I will be yours truly, forever and always.

Tram

Those who let it happen, those who make it happen, and those who wonder what happened.

I was playing The Sims 3 yesterday, and, instead of my normal game, I started a new one with a pretty young girl who lived by herself. I was just kind of spacing out and had the screen at her house. She wasn't home and the house was dark, but the moment she came home, the lights came on, illuminating the dining room in such a way that makes me want to keep my own apartment.

It'll be small, of course. Small but cozy. I'll live there by myself and greet my guests in something like this.

(except the material will be chiffon instead of satin--satin makes it look too much like a nightgown. And it'll be in white or a really sweet pastel nude color.)

I'll keep it nice and clean, with fresh flowers in vintage wine bottles like these.

It's too much to ask for, but I would love to date or be courted by a guy who'd send me flowers on special days. White roses are too bland, I think. Red roses seem more intense, but I personally prefer yellow, blue, and violet roses. They seem so much more exotic and I like them a lot more.

Anyways, I'll make sure the apartment smells nice with the flowers and candles. I'll drink a warm cup of tea every morning with my pills. The apartment will be simplistic and white, with the color of the furniture--probably grey or like, a sea foam grey--as the only accent. My coffee table will be covered with fashion books. I'll have a mannequin thing in my room so I can plan my outfits in advance. I'll have one of the really cool necklace hangers.

I'll have a closet full of dresses, hopefully from this site. It has the most beautiful dresses I've ever seen.

That's all for today. I actually looked up the apartments in NYC, and it'll cost me about $3000 or more per month for a decent apartment in Manhattan. It'll probably be just a little bit cheaper in Brooklyn or something. All this gets me so excited, but I don't know if I can manage to live by myself. I mean, seriously, I can't even unclog my own toilet. And sometimes I have nightmares and need to be held by my mother.

Well, this is basically my plans right now:

• Freshman year: Get a job once at college while maintaining good grades, good community service hours at local hospitals, good participation in extracurricular actives, and a decent social life. Study for the MCAT. Take French and ballet. Save up money to study abroad. Save money for apartment.
• Sophomore year: Study French intensely. Still do ballet. Study for the MCAT. Work while maintaining good grades, good community service hours at local hospitals, good participation in extracurricular actives, and a decent social life.Save money to study abroad. Save money for apartment.
• Junior Year: Go abroad!
• Senior Year: Apply to Columbia Medical School. Get in. Save up money for apartment.

It's a given that I should look good while doing all of these things. 

A break up is like a broken mirror. It is better to leave it broken than hurt yourself to fix it.

I can finally touch my left toes with my right hand while stretching! First. Time. Ever. I'm so excited; I just never thought I could do it, but look at me and my toes now.

I've been working on this project for a few weeks now, and this is--to date--my best version. It is a watercolor rendition of one of the photos I've taken of Mlle. Velasco.

Maybe I'm a bit jealous and hostile, but I just feel like Mlle. Yasakova gets in the ways of things. She never hangs out with us anymore, but when she does, she only talks to Mlle. Velasco. And if Mlle. Velasco isn't there, she talks to Mlle. Smith. And if they're not there, she doesn't even bother to come. At first, I thought it was me, so I tried talking to her, and at first we were talking, but when Mlle. Velasco appeared, the conversation became more between her and Mlle. Velasco while it was supposed to be about me and Mlle. Yasakova. After that, the only conversations I am will to have with her are polite pleasantries.

I honestly cannot wait to get out of here and meet new people. I feel so boring and bored here.

On a brighter note, Mlle. Johnston's coming over to take pictures. I've photographed her informally before, and she looks good, both naturally and made up, but I want her made up this Wednesday with smokey black eyes and red, red lips. Something like this.

Hopefully, this one won't end up like what happened with Mlle. Smith. I'll be on a field trip that day, so I'll call her during lunch to remind her.