While there is perhaps a province in which the photograph can tell us nothing more than what we see with our own eyes, there is another in which it proves to us how little our eyes permit us to see.

So, Mlles. Smith and Johnston and I were really excited about the photo shoot today. I saw Mlle. Hopkins and verified that she could indeed take Mlle. Jang's place since Mlle. Jang wanted me to take her pictures after she got her braces off.

Mlle. Smith came to my house first. We re-curled her hair. She looked lovely with the dress on even though the dress was pink. She looked even prettier with red lipstick. And then Mlle. Johnston came, undressed and un-made-up, but she only took five minutes to get ready. They both looked very lovely, and I felt kind of plain in comparison because I was only wearing my bikini and a peasant top over and they were decked in maxi dresses, with curled hair, and red lipstick. Mlle. Hopkins called and apologized for not being able to come because something urgent came up that last minute. We ran late to the beach and had to take Mlle. Johnston's car since her car was big enough for the vintage chair that I dragged along. Well, we didn't even use it.

The beach was horrible! It was cold, and the tide rose every five minutes, which made it hard for me to take pictures. Mlles. Smith and Johnston have never met, so they were kind of awkward together, but luckily they followed my instruction very nicely, although Mlle. Johnston constantly looked annoyed and older than she was because the corners of her mouth were always pushed back. I managed to make her relax a couple of times and those photos turned out great. Sometimes she over-posed, in contrast to Mlle. Smith, who would sometimes wandered off frame just because. Sometimes she looks dead in the pictures, but when she doesn't, she looks GREAT! And once we just hit a spot where I didn't know what I wanted them to do and so they just stood around awkwardly. So I suggested that Mlle. Johnston pick up my vintage camera (well, technically, it is Mme. Mills'), and I'll take pictures of her trying to take pictures of me with it. Well, she's not a photographer, so she held the camera like this:

When you're supposed to hold it like this:

This way allows one hand to support the lens and steady the camera and the other to readily cover the shutter button. First thing I learned in photography class.

Anyways, while that was going on, Mlle. Smith wandered off (surprise surprise) and next thing I knew, she was hiking back toward us with a huge-ass stick in her hand. I was like, "Stop right there! Lean on the stick, please! [Mlle. Johnston], go sit in front of her." Things kind of went up after that.

At the beach, Mlle. Johnston got cut. All of hair got messed up. We shaved this morning because of the weather and the sand rubbed against that the wrong way and it hurt. And then my brother called and said my mother called and she said she was coming. An hour ago. So we rushed home and Mlle. Smith rushed the chair back upstairs since she said I was a twig and couldn't possibly carry it. Then I looked at the pictures and my heart nearly dropped. There only a couple good ones out of about 120 photos for how much trouble I've caused them. I mean, they said they really liked modeling for me, but I know it's time consuming and hard, and I greatly appreciate them taking the time to do their hair, make-up, and dress the way I've requested.

Anyways, I may not be a great photographer, but I am one heck of an editor (just saying). I went through each picture and tried to improve it to the best of my abilities and ended up with about 16 decent to really good ones. I'm just happy I have more than ten photos to prove all the trouble we've went through and a great day that we had.

I'm so glad I have pretty friends.

But seriously, taking pictures at the beach is a pain! Everything is so unpredictable and overwhelming. It's not a feeling I like to have, but something I want to master. But working with Mlles. Smith and Johnston kind of makes me wonder if having three models is a good idea when working with two is this exhausting. Well, there's always things to overcoming. But I probably won't do more than five models. Four is too even.

There are three types of friends: those like food, without which you can't live; those like medicine, which you need occasionally; and those like an illness, which you never want.

So, this weekend, I kind of made peace with myself about my upcoming rejection from Barnard. I was going to go to Irvine, study my butt off, and be the one doing the rejecting the next time around. That was my plan, as set in stone as my plans could possible be. I told my friends, and they were more than happy because we would be a few minutes (at most an hour) away. My mother and I got on so well this last weekend because of that.

But now University of Rochester--which I just assumed would reject me since they accept 38% of all applicants while Wellesley accepts 32% and they rejected me--accepts me and is probably giving me tons of money to go there. I'm so lost.

Pros

1. Rochester is a huge-ass city, which means plenty of volunteer and job opportunities.
2. It's ranked higher than UCI and is one of the new Ivies.
3. It's one of the leading research universities right now.
4. You just need to take classes for your major, so no gen. ed.
5. It's 300 miles from NYC, which is a whole lot closer to it than I will ever be at Irvine.
6. Last, and most importantly, it has a neuroscience department, and I want to be a neuroscience major. I honestly don't care about the other stuff, but UCI is almost the same in those aspects, but neuroscience is something I really want to get involve in.

Cons

1. It's far away. I mean, I can understand going all the way across the country to study at Barnard and Columbia, but to study at a school that's ranked a wee bit higher than my in-state school doesn't make much sense. But the neuroscience department is just so so so irresistible.
2. It's not NYC.

Can you imagine how lost I feel now? Now it feels like I'm waiting for Barnard's acceptance letter to swoop in and save me from making bad decisions all  over again. I love Barnard, but I don't want my hopes and dreams to be shattered and trampled all over, something that will happen if I keep getting my hopes up.

But, for sure, wherever I choose to go, I will become the applicant that medical schools can't resist. They won't be the ones rejecting me the second time around. I'll reject all of them save for Columbia Medical School.

So, away from collegial stuff...

Prom planning is a nightmare! People keep freaking changing their minds!

Okay, so we have a bus for 18 people but we only have eight people so far (Mlle. Lopez dropped out to go on another bus after giving us her words, what the heck? but Mlle. Macias managed to find someone to take Mlle. Lopez's place). So I talked to Mlle. Yun, who has a group of ten and no bus, so if they merge with us, it'll be perfect.

Not.

Mlle. Yun is the only one I can stand in their little group. The rest of them are annoying as hell and are just asking to be slapped. So I asked Mlle. Coleman and her group, and she says she's telling everyone tonight, which is great. Her group is huge. They'll get ten people with no problems.

And then Mlle. Jang--who's going on Mlle. Lanter's bus, the same bus Mlles. Velasco and Yasakova (oh, they are an entirely different story), keeps interfering with our plans because she talks to Mlle. Smith and Mlle Smith is the most malleable person on this whole planet! Mlle. Lanter's group isn't going to dinner before the Prom like we are, and Mlle. Smith wants us to cancel to the dinner reservation to. Are you serious? Mlle. Macias, who is normally calm and gentle, nearly blew her top when she called me (because I left at lunch and skipped 5th and 6th to go home and finish my Sim's new house. Haha. The things seniors do). I called Mlle. Smith to tell her that there was possibly no way we're going to cancel our dinner reservation. She reasoned that it was too much, but was willing to do dinner anyways since it would make us happy. I told her that she shouldn't do that, and that she should only do dinner if she really wanted to. She said she wanted to do dinner, I knew she didn't. She kept trying to convince me that she wanted to do dinner, but a fool could tell that she wanted otherwise. So I pretended to believe her and hung up. Then I asked around and apparently, all these losers were not going to freaking dinner which made her convince that dinner wasn't necessary.  So I called Mlle. Macias again and told her about my plan to eat dinner before, but only to eat a little bit so it wasn't terribly expensive, then eat at Prom with everybody else. Problem solved. You're welcome.

God, Mlles. Velasco and Yasakova make me so mad! Especially Mlle. Yasakova. She just assumes that everything and everyone revolves around her dramatic little life. But Friday was when people who were going on our bus needed to confirm with us that they were for sure going. Everybody was supposed to tell me before school ended. So there I was, at freaking five o'clock, calling Mlle. Yasakova over and over and over again (why the eff do you carry a cellphone if you're not going to use it?). I took a break from that and called Mlle. Velasco--who called me at two and requested an extension till six. Mlle. Velasco said that she didn't know what to do. And I was very patient then, not at all pissed off like I am now. I was like, "Okay, well, what are your deciding factors?" And she said that she didn't feel comfortable with Mlle. Smith. Well, honey, if you hadn't ditch us, that wouldn't have happened, would it? NO.  But I was really really nice then, so I was like, "Okay, well, you do whatever you feel comfortable doing. I don't want to force you to come with us and make you have a crappy night." So she chose the other bus. I called Mlle. Yasakova again and she didn't pick up. She didn't even have a damn voice mailbox or whatever. I called Mlle. Velasco and asked her to ask Mlle. Yasakova for me. So Mlle. Velasco called right back and told me that Mlle. Yasakova was coming with her to the other bus. At that point, I got really mad. I kind of started to raise my voice at Mlle. Velasco, but I stopped and apologized because I was getting mad at the wrong person.  Mlle. Velasco was trying to get me to sympathize with Mlle. Yasakova. She said that Mlle. Yasakova liked to talk about her problems and didn't like it when Mlle. Smith and I just dismissed them like they were nothing. Well, first of all, we never dismissed them. We talked and talked and talked about them until we got sick of talking. Second of all, okay, so having a conversation means talking and listening.  She always talks and never listens to problems, and she thinks we're being unreasonable? Ugh. I. Am. So. Sick. Of. Her.

And then now, Mlles. Smith and Velasco are talking again, but Mlle. Smith says that her forced conversations with Mlle. Yasakova always returned to Mlle. Yasakova and her problems. Well, I'm not putting more efforts into a one-sided relationship. Period.

And guess whose bus Mlle. Jang and Tran Sr. are going on now that their party bus is broken up? Mlle. Lanter's bus when they could have joined ours and save us bunches of money. Then I really thought about it. I was really close with Mlle. Velasco, so to think that she could have spared me all the worrying about the party bus but chose not to is kind of annoying. I love Mlle. Velasco, but she is very shallow. I thought I was shallow, but she's even more shallow that me. And that says a lot.

Anyways, tomorrow, Mlles. Smith, Johnston, and Hopkins, and I are going to the beach to take pictures. Well, I'm taking pictures of them. Their hair will be curled. They'll have on red lipstick and cat eyes and long dresses. It'll be great! I'm excited!

If minutes were kept of a family gathering, they would show that "Members not Present" and "Subjects Discussed" were one and the same.

I can feel my nonchalance wearing off. I got rejected from NYU ( I KNOW!) but got deferred to NYU Poly, which, in a sense, is an extension of NYU, but it does not have my major: Neuroscience. I can always take Biomedical Engineering, but that's not what I want. I'm so freaked out and depressed.

Barnard will reject me, I know it, yet somewhere in the back of my mind, there's still foolish hopes and dreams that they won't. I feel like crying right now because if I don't get in, I'll have to go to UC Davis or NYU Poly. I don't know. Things would just untangle if I get into Barnard.

My mother thinks I want to go as far away as possible since I'm choosing Davis over Irvine and applied to all those schools on the East Coast. No duh. I want out, and getting into Barnard will give me the ticket. That's why it's so so so very important for Barnard to accept me. Everything about it is just perfect, and it just needs to accept me.

My mom's forcing me to go to Irvine now. That's complete BS. I'm going to be living there for four years and I need to like where I'll be. I don't want to finally escape her and be reeled back on weekends just like that. I hate Irvine so much more now just because she endorses it.

My dad is on my side. For now. I hope he'll remain on my side and not go off to the dark side.

Everyday, I see girls who do normal things, like going out with friends and talking on the phone, and things that they love doing, like dancing, and I get incredibly jealous because their families support what they do. I have to do this, I have to do that. When I offer an opinion, I'm told it's not appreciated because I'm too young and naive to have an opinion on everything. When I ask to participate in something I like, it's disregarded as being unnecessary. She hates it when I go out with friends and would give me a hard time about it. When I do volunteer stuff, she would rush me home or comment on how often I do it. I hate that.

But to be fair, I mean, I can see where she's coming from. She's raised in a family-centric culture, so me going out with friends and stuff is weird for her. I mean, she has friends, but she hung out with her sisters more since there are like, six of them. She also grew up poor which strengthens familial bonds because people who go through tough time together bond because they have the same common enemy: adversity.  She was more intelligent than all of my aunts, so she saw things differently and knew that she was different then the other girls who only lived to doll themselves up. Beauty fades, but knowledge remains, so she always pushes her children to get the best education they possibly can.

When I was growing up, I was a funny looking child. I'm skinny to the point where looks bony ever since I could remember, so growing up, I was a little bit on the uglier side compared to my two cousins of the same age, who grew up all pretty. My sister, who was supposed to support me, made sure that I knew I was ugly whenever I tried to make myself pretty and would always try to get on my cousins' good side. Well, I turned to studying because that was what I was good at, and that was how I got attention, but I isolated myself in the process. No one seems to be on my wavelength, but they're on on each other's, so it's like I'm an outsider in my own family anyways. But with that education, I know--hope, wish, pray--that there is more to life that just studying for years and years and years to become a doctor only to put it on hold to start a family. I don't want that for myself. I want something different. I want to travel, to feast my eyes on the wonderful world around me so I have something to look back at when I'm older. But traveling means ripping myself from the family.

She just condemns me for trying to break apart, but she's done the same thing! She moves us up here, an hour and a half--without traffic--away from where the main family lives. I've seen how clingy and intrusive it is. My cousins' relationships are forever under attack from the aunts, my mother included, simply because the girls are not who they have chosen. I don't want my boyfriend to have to go through that. I don't want to look back on my relationships and wonder if things would have been better if they'd let us be.

Well, actually, I'd just realized something. I'm not an emotional person, but I've been crying non-stop since nine. It is now about half past eleven. You know what this mean? I'm getting my period pretty soon. Goddamn it.

I think this is actually not as complicated as it seems. I just need to get into Barnard and all the problems would be solved.

So, Barnard, please please please please please accept me.

Beauty is only skin deep, but ugly goes clean to the bone.

Mlle. Smith and I ditched sixth period--Painting--today to go shopping. I bought my prom shoes at Charlotte Russe. It's not on the website right now, but I'll try to find it later. And then we went to Forever 21 and tried on clothes there. It was just really fun.

I think now that we've gotten past the fact that Mlle. Velasco and Yasakova ditched us and that they're not coming back willingly, we get on so much better and have a lot more fun than before because we no longer just sit around and brood about how boring our lives are.

I do feel bad when we're trying on clothes though. For some reason, I just know what kind of clothes work best for my body. I know how to accentuate my greatest assets and my greatest flaws equally. Boxy clothes and belts suggest wider hips and smaller waist--something I don't have. Scoop-necks and sweethearts shows a lot more cleavage, hinting that there is more--while the truth is quite the opposite--and, at the same time, divert attention from my decolletage to my clavicles. High-waisted shorts just outright lie and make people believe my legs are longer than they are. These kind of things to come naturally to me, so I assume that they come naturally to my friends too, since we're almost like peas in a pod.

Mlle. Smith picked the worst things for her body. I tried on this pair of high-waisted shorts and boxy, striped top and Mlle. Smith really liked it so she borrowed the shorts and paired it with a flowy top. Well, our torsos are completely different, so while the shorts look good on me, the shorts divided her in thirds and make it seem like she had no waist--she has a very slim waist--and short legs. I didn't know how to say it because whatever I said would have come off as "my body is better than yours", so I just said, "Okay, well, no we know high-waisted shorts are not for you." I hope she didn't think I was implying anything bad. I have pretty friends, and I don't want them to think of themselves as ugly just because something like this happens. She looks beautiful in belted dresses.

God, I should have said no when she wanted to try on the shorts. She already feels so very insecure about her "large" hips. Well, let me tell you, they are NOT large, and I don't know why she's so insecure about them. She's beautiful in her own way and I think she shouldn't compare herself to other people and should just be embrace herself. Seriously, when I pick my friends, it sounds nasty and all, but I choose people whose beauty aren't mainstream and people who aren't ugly. My friends are all pretty in their own unique way and that's why I'm friends with them. Then, of course, their personalities play a major role in how much more prettier they become in my eyes.

Then there's Mlle. Ocampo, who, at first, I thought was really ugly but is strangely pretty because of it. When we were friends, she got a lot more prettier, but the moment she back stabbed me, she got ugly again. Well, uglier, of course.

That's why I hated it when people said that I looked like her. I took it as them calling me ugly on the inside and out.

Since second semester of junior year till now, no one has and will ever make that mistake again.

Anyways, enough of the nastiness, Mlle. Jang got into USC! I am so proud of her but I--and several people--are getting mad at UCLA for rejecting us and letting people of inferior intelligence in. That sounds snobby and all, but it's true and it's how I feel. I hope M. Ward's gotten in as well because I think M. Ward deserves it more than any of us.

Mlle. Jang is keeping her fingers crossed for me and Barnard. I am keeping my fingers crossed for her and RISD-Brown,  who's sending their notification today along with Carnegie Mellon--another of her school. But I am less worried now that your truly's gotten into UC Davis.

It's depressing, but I don't think Barnard will accept me. Neither is NYU, nor Rochester. I will never get to leave sunny California. I can't imagine not being in New York. I'm 5000% sure Barnard's rejection will break my heart.

On a brighter note, Mlle. Lanter and Mlle. Lopez and I are planning a Heel Day at school on April 1st. So far, about 12 people are attending, eight maybes, four declines, and 54 awaiting replies. That's okay if only 12 of us do it. We'll be the 12 girls in school with great postures and killer legs.

Mlle. Jang's group for Prom broke up so now she might join us if we don't get enough (18) people. Yay!

I did not have three thousand pairs of shoes, I had one thousand and I did not have three thousand pairs of shoes, I had one thousand and sixty.

Poor M. Ward. He's been rejected from UCSB because of his excessive absence sophomore year--thanks, mono. While Mlle. Jang and Mlle. Lanter are waitlisted, he is outright rejected and seems to be taking it quite hard. I found this out yesterday and felt quite bad because a few hours before, I told him that he shouldn't worry and that stupider people have gotten in. I got his hopes up so I must be responsible for its crash.

So, the next morning (which is this morning), I went to Burger Barn to buy him a breakfast burrito since he always seems to want one when I have one. I bought Mlle. Smith one too since I owe her money and this would even us out. And then I completely forgot about Mlle. Jang, who would have paid me back. Oh, well. It's funny because my orders at Burger Barn are so specific ( two breakfast burritos with only salsa, cheese, and eggs) the staff remember me, which is nice of them and flattering as well. When I ordered the extra burritos from M. Ward and Mlle. Smith, the guy in the back who works the kitchen who I didn't even know that knows I exist (if that makes sense) came to the front and said, "Changing it up, huh?" and the girl at the register knows my name. It's a very good feeling. I will make sure to find out their names as well.

When I got to school, I gave M. Ward his burrito, and he tried to pay me back for it, but I didn't take his money. Later, he thanked me and gave me a hug. Well, M. Ward knows how to hug. Sometimes, I wish all the guys were like him. The world would be a much more inspiring place.

So, I've been obsessing with lace a bit too much lately. I think it's sexy and provocative in a classy way. I already have two LBDs, but if I were to buy another, I would try and find one that is long-sleeved with a scoop neck (a crew neck is okay too, but I personally prefer scoop necks). It is backless, in a way, because the lace will span the back and connect with the fabric (maybe wool crepe) at the small of the back and the shoulders. The result will be this simply sophisticated that needs no further accesory that I will wear over and over and over again.

Before Anchor Blue closed down, I went and bought, oh, I don't know, only five million white XL t-shirts from them because I liked the material and I was planning to make my own T-shirts. I made one for Mlle. Smith as a Christmas present and really liked how it turned out. So, now I have a bunch in my closet, and I haven't been inspired yet until like, five minutes ago. I want something simple but very eye-catching. This will do.

I don't want mushy stuff like a heart or love. I want my shirts to be simple yet grand at the same time. A peace sign is good, no?

We dissected a cow's eyeball today. It was so awesome. We got one that was really meaty, so this other girl and I hacked away until only the eyeball is left. We did the regular stuff, and the best part about it all was the tapetum lucidum, this thing that reflects light back into the eyeball that allows the animals to have superior night vision.

Barnard. What to do about Barnard? I really do believe in ESP now. My brain just feels depressed when I think of Barnard, and, it's hard to put it into words, but I think the brain is going into this mode where it is indifferent about everything, to prepare me for probably the biggest rejection and disappointment of my life. Just kidding. The greatest disappointment will be saved for medical school applications.

The Friday that M. Lythgoe asked Mlle. Pillado to Prom, I wanted to have the line "today is the day when dreaming ends" from the song One Day I'll Fly Away (Reprise) from Moulin Rouge. In the beginning, she sings, "Why live life/from dream to dream/and dread the day/when dreaming ends," because she was just ready to go away from the whole courtesan life that she had. And then she fell in love with Christian, and when their love was threatened, they made plans to go away, you know, the whole shebang. Then she found out that she had tuberculosis and that if the Duke couldn't have her, he'd have Christian killed. So, she had to make him believe that she didn't love him. So, she sang the Reprise before going to tell him that the plan was off since the Duke offered her riches poor Christian couldn't.

That scene is very heartbreaking. I cried. Like, really hard. So, I was going to put that for my quote, but then I was like, actually, I'm going to save that from the day that I get rejected from Barnard because it fits better there. I mean, it's just M. Lythgoe. Sure, he's cute and I'm kind of attracted to him, but he just doesn't matter much because I don't even like him that much. Gotta put things in perspective.

I've been drinking NON-SWEETENED tea since yesterday since I kind of blew that off a month in because I ran out of chamomile tea and had to drink yucky cinnamon and apple cider tea instead. That stuff is nasty without, I don't know, ten tablespoons of sugar. So, to get back on track to detoxing and cleansing my body for Prom, I've picked up my tea habit with:

which has chamomile, blossom, and, best of all, rose petals, which makes it taste kind of like rosewater--or what I imagine rose water to taste like based on its smell because I'm not stupid to drink fragrance water. Just saying.

My shoes came! Me and two other girls are planning a Heel Day at school! I am so excited!

Isn't it weird how depressed and forlorn I felt before and how excited and happy I am now? Hormonal much? I kind of want to go on the pills to regulate this and eliminate the depression, period. But I don't want chemicals and stuff to mess up my body and possibly leave me infertile--I mean, I know I'm always going on and on about how I don't want to give birth, but I would like to have options, thank you very much.

Many a young lady does not realize just how strong her love for a young man is until he fails to pass the approval test with her parents.

I had the most enjoyable dream last night. So...apparently, I made plans with Mlle. Connelly (at least I think it was her) to have a photo shoot after school. Everything was all well and good until M. Lythgoe needed me to do him a favor. I couldn't remember what it was, but I remember Mlle. Connelly (who knows about my little thing with M. Lythgoe) urging me to forget the shoot and just go with M. Lythgoe. So I did. Then I remember a string of back-and-forth messages between him and I, and soon it was obvious that he was very enamoured with me. Then he invited me--last minute--to attend his birthday celebration which includes lunch at In-and-Out and then spending the next day at Disneyland. I was reluctant to go because I didn't really know the other people going well (when I woke up, I realized that the names of the people he listed were the Sims living in my neighborhood! Imagine that!), but he insisted that I go. I got caught up in something and couldn't make it to the lunch. He was disappointed but told me to meet him at his house at midnight since his parents were taking the load of us to Disneyland. Well, I woke up and showered, only to be told that it was already 1:47 AM. So, I phoned him and said I wouldn't be making it. He told me that it was alright and that he was waiting for me anyways. Then I realized that I didn't know where his house was. Then I woke up.

Sure, it's not that exciting, but being in a dream where I am deeply loved and cherished makes it hard for me to wake up in the morning, especially when I have to wake up at five to finish my homework. I love those dreams. I remember when I was enamoured with Ben Barnes after watching the second Narnia movie.

God, we were in serious love. Compared to my previous love dreams, this is is barely anything. The other ones make me feel empty afterward. Like the one with Ben Barnes, I felt like I lost something for about three days.

But the ironic thing about this dream is that today is the day that M. Lythgoe is asking Mlle. Pillado.

Okay, so possible explanations:

• Mlle. Connelly and Mlle. Karch and I have agreed to go running with each other at least once a week to get ready for prom. I seriously need to tone my legs. So, all that planning with Mlle. Karch the night before must have gotten me to this part of the dream.
• And then the portrait photo shoot is pretty explanatory.
• M. Lythgoe just seems to occupy my mind much more often now that I know he's going with someone else. Asshole.
• His friends (my Sims) are the result of playing the Sims 3 the night before.
• I don't know the part about In-and-Out, but I do know that the lunch thing is from forever forgetting to get my ID card stamped for the off-campus lunch pass thing.
• And Disneyland is because I've never been there and that Grad Night this year will be at Six Flags instead of Disneyland.

Yup. That's about it, I think, for the dream.

Today, I went jogging around the neighborhood. I jogged for three minutes and ran out of breathe. It felt like my throat was infected and on fire. But I kept jogging down the huge hill, and then I walked it back up. My upper thighs hurt when I move now. I'm kind of glad that I went kind of late because, even though there were cars, nobody honked at me today. I don't know why is it that guys honk when they see girls walking. This car, this one time, honked and then the guy from the passenger seat stuck his head out the windows and stared at me until the car disappeared. Um, WTF? Like, how do you expect us to respond when you honk? Wave? I don't think so.

I finished my first gouache painting today. I must admit that even though I do like it, I also find it less satisfactory that what I imagined the effect would be. I think it is because I don't have enough white space so it looks extremely mediocre.

My mother is so ridiculous. She wants to bring this country girl from Vietnam over to match-make her with my eldest cousin, who was born and raised here. Seriously? They'll have nothing in common! It's a match made in hell. Then she wants my brother--who is currently 12--to do the same! What the eff? NO. By that time, I'll be an adult and I'll be on his side, telling her how ridiculous she is. She always says white girls spend their husbands' money, black girls have ugly babies, Mexican girls have too many fat babies, and Filipino girls are lazy and ugly, and that only true Vietnamese girls are the best because they take care of their families. She forgets about their other good traits too: possessiveness, gossipy, nosy, and unreasonable. My brother and I will marry the people who will make us most happy, not the people who'll make her most happy. Like, she's so good at choosing potential spouse. The last thing I want is for my marriage to resemble my parents' in any way. Their marriage is ridiculous. Mine will never ever ever ever be like them. If it does turn out that way, I'd rather file for a divorce that have my daughter (or twin daughters) raised in such an abnormal and unhappy household.

I'm moving as far away as possible so she'll no longer have any say in my life.

Oh, yes, before I forget...the Calculus test that I felt good going into but thought I failed..that test, well, I got a D on it without the curve, but with the curve, I got a B!

He could be that boy, but I'm not that girl.

So, Mlle. Smith went on a Career Fair field trip today, which means she missed out on the fun we had in Studio Art in the morning.

Mme. Mills has been going on and on about having us do something like this picture below.

And today she was bugging M. Ward about it. I volunteered to take his pictures since I'm trying to build a portrait portfolio. It would be a win-win since we both get to use my pictures in our portfolios for the AP test. She told us to go to the dark room. We were like, "Okay? Sure, whatever you say," and went in the gallery. She was like, "It's not dark enough!" I was like, "What other dark room is there?" She meant the storage room in the back, and she kind of said it really loud and made Mlle. Tupac--one of M. Ward's close friends--turn around and said, "Hmm, [_] and [M. Ward] going to the dark room, hm?" and got the whole class in on it.

The moment I closed the storage door, M. Ward turned around and pounded on it while moaning and making sex noises. I punched him and flipped off the light. Then I had to turn the light back on to go out and get my cellphone (which usually serves as a light source). Mme. Mills was like, "Just in case you need help, huh?"

I went in and took pictures. Good ones, too, I think. I had M. Ward sit on the floor, and since the lights are off and it was completely dark, I sat cross-legged on the floor too even though I wore a skirt. I had him make faces, but mostly just stare straight into the camera. Most of the time, we completely missed each other since he would look one way while the camera was pointed in a different direction. Overall, the pictures were good for being taken in the dark.

Today, in 6th period, I found out that M. Lythgoe will be asking Mlle. Pillado to the Prom this Friday. Lame. Well, now I have to find someone else to daydream about. I kind of want to get him back for leading me on. I know it seems like there's a possibility that I'm delusional about him on this blog, but I'm not. Take my word for it, please. Anyways, there's not much I can do except to look so good that he'll regret not asking me.

We have yet to find out who M. Ward is asking to the Prom. Whoever she is, I hope he goes on with the plan so he can tell Mlle. Jang and I once it is executed, like he's promised.

Did you ever get the feeling that the world was a tuxedo and you were a pair of brown shoes?

Okay, I went to the bathroom today in Mme. Kennedy's class, and when I walked back, M. Lythgoe was looking at me again! ASK ME TO PROM ALREADY!

Speaking of Prom, M. Ward teased me and Mlle. Jang today in painting. Apparently, he has this awesome plan (knowing him, I don't doubt it--the boy is brilliant!) to ask this one girl to prom, so Mlle. Jang and I were trying to guess who since there is possibly no way to guess how he is going to do it. Anyways, we spent 15 minutes doing the "is it [Mlle. Tupac]? How about [Mlle. Smith]? No? Well, good, cause she's taken. Is it anybody we know? What do you mean you don't know?" Then we realized that he wasn't answering honestly and there's not point of doing 20 questions or whatever if he wasn't being honest. I thought he was going to ask Mlle. Jang. There's a possibilty he'll ask me since he touch my hands like, freaking ten times today in one hour. Okay, it was like, four times, but it's not like I'm counting. Being a good girl that I am, I pulled my hand back of course. Subtly, too, so it wouldn't be awkward. I hate mixed signals.

So, I went shopping today. My beloved messenger bag is ripping on the side, and I'm looking for something to replace it. So far, nothing matches it's cuteness, durability, stiffness, and overall aesthetically pleasing nature, so I settled for a smaller bag by the same company. It'll do my shoulder good.

And then I bought a pair of heels for prom. I was kind of iffy about it, but the deal was too good to pass up. I'll probably return them tomorrow or something.

And then I went to Forever 21 and found the most perfect pair of heels for prom, and they only have them in size 6 and 9! I'm a freaking 7! So I went online and found size 7 only to have it snatched up when I was looking for my debit card! What the heck?

On the flip side, I found my perfect pair of heels! It's a pair of heeled booties in tan. Pretty cute. I'd be so mad if the same girl that took my prom shoes steals this pair too.

I can always buy this pair, but it doesn't have the ankle-wrap that will go perfectly with my dress. It certainly is high enough though. Only 4 inches high, but the platform is almost 1 inch, making it a total of almost 5 inches, which makes me 5 feet 9 and a half inches. Pretty good. How hard would it be to dance in these, I wonder?

The pair below is lovely as well, but it is only 4 feet high, which is good, cause I can do 4 feet high, but now that I've seen long-legged Karlie Kloss move in my dress, I kind of want to go as high as possible.

Anyways, I was complaining to my little brother, and he went, "Do you know how spoiled kids are these days?" Oh my gosh, he's only 12! He's the cutest little brother in the whole entire world.

Oh, so...I'm trying to learn Comptine d'un autre été from the film Amelie. God, I love love love love the composer Yann Tiersen. His songs are very ethereal in a regal yet very folksy way. His music makes me feel like I'm in a fairytale. Plus, he's fairly cute. Anyways, at first, I hate how the left hand is very repetitive because it covers an octave with funky stuff in between. My hands can do an octave, but doing that for the entire song is very uncomfortable. Now I love how it's repetitive because I only have to focus on the right hand, which is very simple before it gets to the whole fast part. It's fairly easy for me to memorize this since it's repetitive, but it also paints an image with a map of where to go regarding the notes in my head, so I don't think I'll have trouble with memorizing. I've never been this motivated to do anything since EVER.


Oh, yeah, Mme. McElroy has passed away. Her funeral was today, but I couldn't make it.


I love the above quote. Sometimes I do wonder where I was when they handed out life manuals.

Sir, more than kisses, letters mingle souls; for, thus friends absent speak.

Dear Barnard,

For some reason, I think you will break my heart. Please don't, but I love you so much.

Love,

Tram

There is a road from the eye to heart that does not go through the intellect.

So, today began really nice and peaceful, which is not a surprise since this whole week has been pleasant, yet I find myself getting depressed everyday at around four to seven o'clock. Not to worry because the moment I feel a tiny bit depressed, I switch the music to blasting Uffie, Lily Allen, and 3Oh!3 and the raunchy lyrics take my mind off of things. I need a new way to get out of it though because this way won't last forever.

Anyways, I had to go to the bathroom in Mme. Kennedy's class today. You would think that a small and skinny girl like me would walk all soft and dainty, but sometimes I walk like an elephant. Today was one of those times. Anyways, that's way beside the point. So when I got back, the moment I opened the door and walked in, guess whose face I saw looking at me first way before other people started to turn around. Maybe I'm overspeculating, but I would like to think that he felt my giant stomping, saw me at the windows, and turned around to look as I walked in. Anyways, I saw him looking, and he was probably the only person I had eye contact with, and I could see him watching me as I walked across the room to take my seat. Once I got there, I kind of lingered and stood there for a few seconds, looked in his direction, and saw that he was still looking! Then toward the end of class, I looked out the windows and saw him looking again out of the corner of my eyes. It's hard to explain but I moved my eyes to include more of him in my peripheral vision, if that makes sense. He was indeed looking my way. It was all very thrilling until I realized that Mlle. Pillado, a pretty, lovely, and gentle Mormon girl who wouldn't harm a fly, sat behind me.

If M. Lythgoe likes me, then he should say so. He is awfully nice to look at, especially when he stares at me right back. God, it sounds like we are having eye sex, but we really are not.

And then the day went by like always. Mlle. Smith, Hatfield, Macias and I discussed our limo plan. Now that M. Smith has asked Mlle. Smith to the Prom, we have nine definite people in the group: the four of us, M. Smith, Mlle. Lopez and her date, M. Clayville, and Mlle. Rink (a friend for Mlle. Macias). Mlle. Yasakova and Velasco (I have invited her when I found out that she didn't know what her G.A.P.P friends were doing for the Prom) are supposed to come with us, but they are well-known for backing out at the last minutes. I have not heard from the other people yet. And M. Lythgoe has YET to ask me.

I think I will fail the next Calculus test because I have no idea what is going on. Mme. Kennedy is very patient when she explains things to me, and I love her so much for that. But once she is out of sight, everything she's said goes as well. I'm trying so hard, harder than I have ever done before. I come to class early to check my homework and ask her questions, but I just don't seem to be getting it. I bet she's very disappointed in me for wasting her time and effort.

We had a lot of fun in Painting, as usual. Mlle. Jang had finished putting the gouache in the palette for me, so I worked on drawing eyes and other facial features with graphite as I waited for the gouache to dry. Mlle. Smith and I discuss our workout plans for the Prom. Since my dress is leg-centric, I need to tone my legs. Honestly, I know I sound like one of those girls who fish for compliments because I'm skinny and all, but my thighs are huge compared to the rest of my body. And my gastrocnemius muscles are virtually nonexistent; I saw them and my thighs jiggle today. Not. A. Pretty. Sight. But ever since I started taking Physiology, I'm so afraid to do anything really physical, like running, because running means bending my knees, which works to wear away my cartilages in my knee joints and eventually it'll just be bone on bone and let me tell you, I can NOT stand pain to save my life. I'm just going to stick to stretching until I can find a workout to tone my legs.

Towards the end of class, M. Ward managed to get to Youtube from the Mme. Mills' computer and we all (Mme. Mills, M. Ward, Mlle. Smith, Jang, Tupac, and I) watched funny videos on there. God, it was a fun afternoon.

Then I came home to find out that I got rejected from UCLA. Remember that whole stress thing I went through that made my back breakout when I got an "unlikely" from Wellesley? Well, this is a little bit better but I'm still so very scared, nervous, and anxious.

My mother came back from Vietnam last night! You know what that means? I miss my lovely camera so much! Plus, she bought me earrings, which will go into my ever-growing collection of earrings since I am so into earrings right now.

I talked to Mlle. Velasco earlier to let her know to let us know about her final decision before the 24th and to give us her money by the 31st of this month. Sometimes I feel like such a bad friend for not being there for her when she has money problems. I mean, her dad makes so much money, but when you take that amount and divide it by seven people in her family, that doesn't leave much for them to do much. And it just feels like I all do is say, "Hey! Wanna go waste money with me?"

I think M. Lythgoe should just ask me to the Prom!

Do not dwell in the past; do not dream of the future; concentrate the mind on the present moment.

Today was an amazing day! Us AP Art and Art History kids went roaming in Old Town Pasadena for the whole day and then stopped at the Norton Simon Museum to finish up. Before that, we went to Dick Blick, the most amazing art store EVER! The Art History kids were like, "Okay, whatever. It's just a huge art store", but the rest of us went crazy. I picked up a set of gouache instead of watercolour, a palette to put the gouache in, and a set of graphite pencils that go all the way up to 9B. 9B! I love doing dark lines! Mlle. Jang and Smith did almost the same thing, except Mlle. Smith bought Prismacolor color pencils because color pencils is totally her medium. Mlle. Jang is pretty versatile, and I don't know what she bought.

We had a blast chilling and eating before noon, when we were supposed to be at the museum. Anyways, since Mlle. Schneider and I are vegetarian, our group (Mlle. Smith, Jang, Schneider, Hai, Choi, and Murphy and M. Ward and Purwadi) had to find a restaurant that would accommodate that special needs. While looking for the restaurant, Mlle. Smith and I decided to split and go to H&M instead because I've never been there. We looked around, and I saw a bunch of bags that I would love to have, but since I already blew, I don't know, $45 at Dick Blick, I couldn't afford to drop another huge sum of money just because. So, Mlle. Smith and I each got a really cute dress and went to the dressing room to try it on and took pictures. We looked cute, if I do say so myself.

Then we got a call from Mlle. Schneider saying that they'd be eating at Johnny Rocket and I told them we would meet them there. We went to a frozen yogurt store and then to Johnny Rocket before heading back to the museum.

At the museum, our group got cut up again with only me, Mlle. Smith, Jang, and Schneider. We had to complete this scavenger hunt thing. It was fun, but when we were done, Mlle. Smith and I went out to the garden to take more pictures. We had a fun time.

It got so hot during the day in Pasadena, and I was wearing a black scoop-neck thermal with black tights under a white dress. Yeah, I looked nice (if I do say so myself), but not weather-appropriate. But as soon as the bus started, the breeze and wind came in and Jesus Christ, it took forever for me to de-tangle my hair after an hour of about 70 mph wind.

Then, I got home and worked on Mlle. Coleman's dress. Here it is.

There's three versions because she likes blue and green, but I detest the color green and don't really care for blue. The red one is personally my favorite, but this isn't my prom dress. So I drew up three for her to see her options.

And then I found out that M. Smith will ask Mlle. Smith (haha) to the Prom THIS WEEK! And I'm probably the first to know about it! I was so excited, I called Mlle. Jang to tell her. Mlle. Jang is very excited too. So now our bus has ten people. We have room for 22. So, that's, like, not even half yet. I am awfully fond of Mlle. Jang and wish she could come with us, but she is committed somewhere else.

I don't think anyone will ask me. I don't have any close guy friends. I kind of want M. Lythgoe to ask me, but I seriously doubt it. His ego is too big to risk a rejection. Plus, even if he does, transportation complications will arise.

I know I've been all "I can't wait to get out of her/this year to be over", but I think I will seriously miss it once it is over. I'll miss the people that I've spent years with, the people who love me and whom I love. Time has never been my friend, and it probably will never be my friend.

The hair is the richest ornament of women.

May 13th is going to be a great day! It's the day before the Prom and it's also a second Senior Ditch Day, which I'm going to participate in (I didn't do the first because the timing was stupid; it was first quarter, for goodness's sake). Anyways, we're meeting up at In N' Out at 12 and going en masse (I hope I used that right; I'd feel pretty idiotic if I didn't) to Zuma Beach. Fun, ya? I think so! Mlle. Smith is excited about it also.

So, remember how I told Mlle. Macias about M. Lythgoe. She now thinks I have a crush on him, which I don't, and suggests that I help her make a cake for him on his birthday since she's in Yearbook and people in Yearbook are doing that for all the people in Yearbook (hope that makes sense). Then I can come and hang out with them in Yearbook and eat the cake too. An occasion to miss class? Count me in!

The math test I took today was crazy! I went in feeling pretty well, but came out completely depressed. I need an A on the test to bring my grade up to a C since I BOMBED the last test so bad, tears can't even describe it. Anyways, we'll see how it goes. I hope Mme. Kennedy won't be too disappointed.


I bought this hair thing yesterday and I'm trying it out starting today. It's called Smooth 'N Shine Therapy: Silk Fusion Repair Extreme Leave-In Treatment (with pearl extract). I mean, honestly? It was cheap and on sale, and it has the word "pearl" in it. I'm a goner.

So, I'm going to try it out everyday for a week to see how it goes. Hopefully, it'll make my hair all shiny, smooth, and soft.

Love is like oxygen. All you need is love.

So, I'm tired of moaning and groaning and bitching complaining about my boring life. I'm going to do something about it. So, I'll try not to complain anymore. Do, or do not; there is no try.

Anyways...

Since the beginning of this year, in Econ class, I sit opposite of this guy named M. Lythgoe. I think he's pretty cute, with a steely and cold demeanor. He's about my height, I think, or he looks it. I sure hope he looks it because then he'll be datable. I don't know how he is, but he seems rude in Econ, always talking with his friends when the teacher is lecturing. Once, the teacher got fed up and kicked the whole bunch of them out of class. He was the only one who came back later and apologized.

I don't know what is it that's with me and M. Lythgoe. Like, I can sense that's there's something, but it's barely there. Like, okay, it's weird, because I had a mini crush on him at the end of eighth grade, but, like everything else that was related to middle school, it wasn't anything major nor serious. But the moment I strolled into Econ, I could feel him staring at me. Well, so were the other guys because I had on a simple white t-shirt, black short shorts, with tights that look like the picture below (except mine are like, so much better and less slutty because the 90% of my legs is covered), and a venetian red scarf tossed over one shoulder. Not to toot my own horn, but I looked pretty great.

Anyways, I felt him staring at me as I handed my schedule to M. Near and even when I got to my new seat near Mlle. Johnston, the same seat that happened to be directly across from him. I wasn't very interested then because I'd always pegged him for a jerk and a jock, you know?

I think I first started to notice him the day I found a lollipop from Mme. Mills in my pocket. I was enjoying my lollipop, and the class was hot, so I guess I was subconsciously tracing the metal tip of whatever I had on hand on my bare thighs because it felt good. I was spacing out and when I came to, I saw him looking at the metal tip on my thighs, and all of the sudden, he flicked his eyes up to meet mine. Well, I did what good girls do and avert my eyes and blush, because that was pretty weird because it must have seem like I was touching myself on purpose--which I kind of was, but it wasn't like that--while eating a lollipop--which is pretty sexual all by itself.

From then on, every time I glance over, there was a good chance of catching him looking at me. He sometimes catches me looking at him, but often time, I just fake spacing out. Like, it's pretty easy. I just force myself to freeze my gaze and keep it there for a long time before drifting it somewhere else and keeping that there for a long time. Once, M. Near was trying to explain something to him and M. Lythgoe was asking a question regarding what M. Near was saying and it came out all funny. I happened to be looking on (of course) and he caught my eyes and laughed, and said, "What am I saying?" That's far from intimate, but that's the most intimate we've ever been. Anyways, so we keep doing that to each other and we've talked like, five times this whole school year. Sad? Yes. Very.

Now that we don't have Econ anymore and Mme. Kennedy's moved me from behind him (darn), I sometimes look out the windows and see him looking in my peripheral vision. I sometimes catch him. He almost never catches me though because my seat is more or less strategic than his. Plus, M. Foghi's huge head is always in the way.

Today, he had to go to the bathroom, and so I watched him as he walked from his desk to Mme. Kennedy's desk, and I could tell that he could tell that I was watching. So the moment he grabbed the pass and made a turn, he looked and we locked eyes for a millisecond before he turned away.

M. Kwon implies that M. Lythgoe doesn't masturbate since he's Mormon, but Mlle. Macias tells me that all guys masturbate and she suspects that the Mormons do it even more since they're so sexually frustrasted. When I tell her about M. Lythgoe (not this detailed, of course. God, that'd be mortifying), she tells me that he's pretty nice, but "he wants you to be Mormon and have ten children."

I reread this and it seems like there's more to me and M. Lythgoe than there really is. It seriously is almost nothing. I'm just attracted to him, but it really is nothing big.

Mlle. Smith, Hatfield, and Macias came over today. Mlle. Lopez is also coming with us in the limo. Whoot whoot! Mlle. Coleman informed me that my dress would come out to be more or less $300, which, according to Mlle. Johnston, is pretty good for a custom-made dress and I better be nice to Mlle. Coleman's mom, who is making it. At first I was like, $300? That's a lot of money. But then I looked at the other dresses similar to it, and they are more than $300 even though they're ugly.

A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out.

Okay, so on Monday, Mme. Kennedy said that she liked my shirt, which was awfully nice for her to say because she is usually very professional and stoic. She then said she liked all of my clothes and that I always looked so "elegant." Eeek! Best. Day. Ever.

Not.

That's probably the one of the few things worth remembering this week. This has been such a horrible week for me.

First, there's the whole prom-limo issue. I already kind of knew that Mlle. Jang, Imhoff, Lee, the foreign exchange students, and their friends are going on one limo, but apparently they invited Mlle. Smith too. I was like, okay, where does that leave me? I told Mlle. Smith about this little predicament, and she said she'd ask if I could come too. I already felt like such a tag-along, so I started my own group: me, Mlle. Smith, Macias, Hatfield, Tran (the elder), and whoever we bring along.

Well, Mlle. Smith didn't like that idea as much. She said going with my group wouldn't be fun because we're all so straight (no alchohol, drugs, or sex for us). I suggested that we split up since we would see each other anyways at the prom. She was completely against that idea and convinced me to ask Mlle. Jang if there was room for me on the bus.

I HATE doing stuff like that, like, forcing myself on people. I asked Mlle. Jang, and she told me to ask Mlle. Imhoff, who told me to ask Mlle. Lee. Well, I got the whole story today from Mlle. Jang during a conversation to math class, and it came out to Mlle. Imhoff, Lee, Jang, and Smith were talking about prom in their composition class, and Mlle. Jang just drew up a list of people on their bus, something they have already secured. Mlle. Jang apologized for not including me too because they were planning it "since last semester." When I heard that, I said, "actually, me, [Mlle. Smith], [Mlle. Velasco], and [Mlle. Yasakova] were planning it since sophomore year. I don't know why [Mlle. Smith] didn't tell you, because she should have from the get-go."

I swear to God, sometimes I just want to shake Mlle. Smith senseless and tell her to stop being so wishy-washy. She's a goddamn adult, and she should start by making her own goddamn decisions instead of letting people just shape her however they want. During Calculus, I made up my mind to make our own group whether or not she'd be with me.

When I told her, I listed the reasons why I wouldn't be going with Mlle. Jang's group:

1. There's NO ROOM. They've already exceeded their intended 25 by alot.
2. They obviously didn't want me, because not only did I have to ask multiple times, they didn't invite me in the first place. I would hate to force them to make room for me because that's just rude and would make things awkward for everybody.
3. I'm more comfortable with people who have fun the way I have fun a.k.a. without drugs and alcohol.
4. I'd know more than 5/6 for the people on my bus as compared to 4/3293029832903928 on Mlle. Jang's bus. Mlle. Smith's ratio is a tiny-bit better, but not much.

I told her that I was fine with her going on the other bus, but I was just letting her know that I wouldn't be coming with her. I was so surprised when she immediately said  that she would be in my group and not Mlle. Jang's. That's a good start. But she needs to resolve all this confusion by herself.

Tomorrow, a bunch of us are coming over to my house to discuss the whole limo thing. I hope it'll go well.

Second, the other day, Mlle. Schneider brought in a vegetarian burrito from Burger Barn. I had a bite and fell in love, so I went the next day, buying one for lunch and one for breakfast. Well, I ate both for breakfast and was so full by the end of 1st period. Then I went and drank a bottle of water. Then I felt really sick and went home and played the Sims 3 all day. That was a good day, actually. Mlle. Smith called me later to tell me about her conversation with Mlle. Yasakova. She needs to get that issue resolved too.

Third, the day before the burrito incident, I was super tired all of a sudden while doing homework in the library after school when the kid I tutor failed to show up. So I tried to finish before the library closed, and went home when I did. I went home and slept until five in the morning, not finishing any homework beside the one I did in the library.

Fourth, today is my little brother's birthday, so, as promised, I took him out to eat. We had a grand time at IHOP since he'd never been.

Fifth, my cousin Mlle. Truong got into CalState Long Beach and she called me all excited. Her poor mother is living up here with us temporarily and she was very excited as well. She was bragging to my father and telling him about that. She then told me that when my cousin becomes a nurse, I should hire her since I'll be a doctor. Thank God she doesn't know that I'll be far far far away from here.

I wonder...when I look back on this blog, will I hate how much I complain, whine, and bitch? Hopefully, because complaining is hideous, I hate doing it, but I do it all the time. Does that make me a hideous person?

Here's more:

I'm so tired of school and the "friends" I have. I've been trying to find the right expression for these feelings I've been having and the closest I've come to it is a person with his/her head forced underwater. For five days, it's underwater, but the head gets to come up and breathe for the weekends before being forced under water again on Monday. I wish time flies faster. I wish I got into Barnard. But both are out of my hand.

Although, I do have a theory. I read somewhere that whether time flies fast or slow depends on the quantity of memory in that specified time period. Say, if you remember a lot of things, then time is slow during that period. It's used to prove that time does not actually go slower when you're in danger; you actually just have more of it when you're in danger, making you think that it goes slower. So, if the opposite is true, then little memory means time goes really fast, right? The only way I can think of is sleeping, but I sure as heck can't sleep until June 10th. I really wish I had a doppelganger to replace me so I can go far away. I think I just need to be away for awhile.