Even if one takes every reefer madness allegation of the prohibitionists at face value, marijuana prohibition has done far more harm to far more people than marijuana ever could.

So...I did it...It wasn't as good as I thought it'd be. M. Dow said I did it wrong. Asshole. I was watching romantic love scenes from movies to get myself in the mood, and then he freaking sent me porn to look at. Well, that totally negated everything I've been doing that evening.

So...when I was doing it...it's just weird...like, it didn't feel particularly good...but, good thing is...I definitely know that I have a vagina and am NOT a hermaphrodite. You know what that means? I can go swimming on my period because I can finally know where to put the tampon.

Yesterday night was a waste of time. My mother took me to the temple to mediate. I was sitting there, half day dreaming, half nodding off, for one freaking hour. During that time, I let out a bunch of loud ass yawns, involuntarily, of course, because even I am not that rude. Yup. Boring boring boring.

M. Dow says I should try smoking pot and gives me the reasons why. I look at it and now I just feel so misinformed. I kind of want to try but don't at the same time. Like, I'll try it at least once before I die, but I don't want to make a habit out of it. Maybe it's the fact that it's illegal that makes it alluring...like, having a double life.
I told Mlle. Jang about the above. She's pretty open to it, I guess, but she's sticking to her own conviction, but she's willing to talk about it. Like, she's not just dismissing it without hearing anything.

MY MOTHER! She doesn't like me wearing a lot of make-up, which I don't. But, I'm like, "Well, I like doing my make-up this way." And she says that she doesn't care if I like doing it that way because I'm living under her roof and still have to follow her rule. Boo. So I'm out next year. Whoot whoot. But then sophomore year's still not down yet.

A bunch of us are dressing as pirates tomorrow.

(HAHAHA, I was reading this days after I posted it. ^ is not intentional!)

Women dress alike all over the world: they dress to be annoying to other women.

I was bored because Mlle. Jang was at a concert and M. Dow was busy sleeping off his crazy and sex-filled night. I was on Chatroulette for a while.

Okay, so...I don't know why, but people keep thinking I was a GIF. Just to be amused, I ask them to demonstrate that they too aren't GIF by doing stupid things like hopping in a circle on one foot. Then the girls...Jesus...why is it that us girls are so mean to each other?

I got two instances when a girl with her friends flipped me off. I just ignored it and waited for her to move on. One did. The other didn't. She stayed and typed "ugly". I ignored it, put on my lipstick since this guy got tea and it got me to want to drink tea and drinking tea wears away the color, and wait for her to click NEXT. She didn't. Instead, she typed in "bitch". At this point, I was kind of annoyed, because she was UGLY. Like, I think girls are generally really pretty when others obviously don't think so, so when I think they're ugly, they're definitely super ugly. So I was like, "Are you jealous because you're ugly?"

Her face was priceless. It's so mean of me, but I felt so triumphant when I watched her face, right before I nexted her. That's kind of horrible of me, isn't it?

Then I went and talked to Mr. Inappropriate (A.K.A. Monsieur Peel), the funny drunk. I thought he'd been avoiding me because he was embarrassed by what he's done, but he was just actually very busy with work. He had a fun conversation today with him whispering at first. He then got a text from his flatmate to tell him to shut up. I talked and he typed after that. He's just very funny, but I don't think he'll live for a very long time. The man drinks all the time.

The reason I bring this up is because when we were talking, I guess I was being cheeky and he said, "If you weren't cute, I'd be annoyed with you." I've actually been feeling pretty all week, so I'm going to take things from that point of view. Attractive people get preferential treatment simply because they are easy on the eyes. It's not fair if you look at things from a plain person's perspective...actually, it's not fair PERIOD. But those who receive the preferential treatment obviously won't complain. The thing is...how long will it last? My skin won't be this tight forever. It'll lose elasticity. Gravity will eventually get to me. What happens then? Then I'll actually have to use my personality to attract people. How frightening considering the fact that I don't have a very attractive personality to begin with.

Wow. I wonder how I got on all these years.

M. Dow wanted us to do what we did the other day. But he was horny, so I acted as the sane one for the both of us and reminded him that we promised it wouldn't happen again. He logically agreed. Glad he did because

Mlle. Smith...I wonder what will become of her. I can't imagine her outside of Camarillo. What if she just finishes college, gets married to M. Smith (haha--but this is no laughing matter), stays in C-Town, and starts the cycle all over again? I hope not. There's definitely more to life than this provincial town and I hope she gets to experience it and not live the rest of her life out like my predictions.

There are no good girls gone wrong, just bad girls found out.

So...since I didn't finish my homework, I told my parents that school started at 10:30 today. I slept in and took my time getting ready. When I was getting ready, M. Patterson from New York Skyped me and wanted to talk. Well, a few nights ago, he got home drunk and started flirting with me like crazy. Why is it that I'm only attractive to my family, old people, creepers, guys on Chatroulette, and drunk people? For some reason, he was under the impression that it'd get a bit warm next time we talked. I talked to him today before he left to Chicago. It wasn't a horribly flirty conversation when we were face to face--I'm glad.

But how exhilarating is it to do what he does? He's going away to Chicago for the weekends. No need to ask permissions. No reasons to not go. I'm extremely jealous. He's in control of his own life.

Anyways, then I was going to do my homework, but my dad kept asking me to call to various companies to fix his mistakes. When that was done, I started to write my Hamlet essay but then M. Dow and M. Manwaring came out Skype and both wanted to talk. At this point, I was just planning to wait till my family left and just ditched school all together and just emailed Mme. Berman the essay.

M. Manwaring is now in China. He loves it there! The culture, the people, everything. That guy is so full of life. He's Mormon, so of course he's a virgin.

And on the other end of the spectrum, there's M. Dow, the nympho. We discussed the deal some more. I wanted my reward to be for him to date a girl that is fat and ugly (since he hates fat and/or ugly girls) for a month and for him to treat her like a human being that she is. He didn't like that. I also specified that our deal would be null and void if I had a boyfriend during that time. He agreed to that, but he didn't want to put a time limit on it. He said it'd go until we were 80. How lovely. Me...an 80 year old virgin.

He sent me a link of Richard Dawkins speaking about militant atheism. It's a great speech, actually. He's mad eloquent. I'm kind of hopelessly in love with the way he uses his words.

Anyways, when M. Dow were talking, we kind of talked about oral and anal sex. I think oral sex is nasty. Like, you're sucking on something that leaks urine, the body's waste product, but M. Dow says that the girl doesn't come in contact with urine unless the guy pees right before. I don't know. I just think oral sex is nasty and unnatural. But, why? Why is it nasty and unnatural? I can't think of any reason why it would be. Anal sex, however, is a whole different story. Yeah, that shit is never gonna happen.

Yeah, well, I'm getting away from the point. I told him about this cartoon that I read. It basically says that sex is a natural act; killing is wrong and illegal; so why is it that it is more socially acceptable to play games that involve killing people but it is not okay to play games that involve sex?

Like, all my life, I've been taught that sex is dirty but necessary, like, just lie back and think of England. But it's a natural function of the human species. My mother probably definitely has a horrible sex life and she always says that I should wait till marriage. Waiting is my choice anyways, but she waited till marriage. She didn't have a good one, so/but she turned to religion fanatically to fill the gap, I guess. I'm not religious. I actually find atheism very very very appealing now. It's late. I had a good argument earlier, but I've lost it now.

It just seems like all my life, I've been told what to think by my mother and her religion, I've never really questioned anything around me (oh, God. THAT part is especially true considering all the things I eat). My mother! She raises me to not ask questions. When I tell her facts and my points on gay marriage and things, she says, "You think you're so mature and smart that you talk back to me? Don't argue with me. Just listen to what I say." End of convo. Lovely relationship we have. She thinks I'm a child. I think I'm going to go batshit insane if I have to live with her for another year. That sounds really mean, but I can't stand her forcing her ideas down my throat and her telling me to not question and just accept her authority.

Anyways, I ended up ditching till 12:30 when my parents came back home! They were like, "You're still here?" I was like, "Um...I'm on my lunch break! Forgot my lunch at home." They bought it and I drove it school to attend one class. At least I didn't get in trouble.

Haha. Good girls are just bad girls who don't get caught.

I took a picture of M. Dow in the morning since he's having his girlfriend over and they're doing what bunnies do. Minus the multiplying.

There is no art in turning a goddess into a witch, a virgin into a whore, but the opposite operation, to give dignity to what has been scorned, to make the degraded disireable, that calls for art or for character.

Tonight was Senior's Awards' Night. It was long and boring and full of mistakes, but Mlle. Jang and I had fun with my camera in the meantime. I don't think I would have had that much fun if I was with Mlle. Smith--who won shit tons of scholarships that night. Mlle. Jang just seems more spontaneous and more...I don't know...open to stupid stuff.

I've reached the decision that M. Lythgoe is no longer cute. Maybe he was cute last semester, but this semester his facial features look too big for his face. Mlle. Jang rates him a 5. I rate him a 7.

At one point, Mlle. Karch was called up. They announced her school and how much money she got. It was the weirdest feeling. Like, I was so proud of her and what she's gotten, but I also wish I was going with her to New York in the fall. I don't want to go to UC Irvine. I really don't. I'm looking forward to leaving the house, but UC Irvine was my back up, definitely NOT where I wanted to go. Now I have no choice.

If I can just pin these feelings to my heart and have them with me always to remind me to work hard the next four years so that I can banish the feelings of disappointment forever.

I went home and talked to M. Dow while editing the photos of Mlle. Jang and I. During the conversation, M. Dow commented on the itchiness of his balls, and I said, "That's lovely. Now scratch them." He read it as I'd scratch them for him. I said I wouldn't scratch them for a thousand dollars. He said all girls were prostitutes; some just had higher prices than others. I got mad and told him off, but he was just joking, and it was just like, damn it; he always does that to me.

Anyways, he said, "My new goal in life is to make you scratch my balls." I was like, hell no and something along the line of his best chance to ever get me to do that was to make me like him. He said he could do it within two months if he was over here. I was like, "I'm NEVER going to scratch your balls. It's NEVER going to happen." And in the midst of the argument, I said if he ever got me to willingly and consciously scratch his balls, I'd throw my cherry in as his reward--if he doesn't have a girlfriend at the time--because I was--am still--THAT confident that this little situation would NEVER happen. He was like, "Deal." Well, not "deal" because we haven't figure what my reward would be if I won. He suggested an epic massage. I said, no, since I would lose something important to me, so he would also need to lose something important to him. He said I could always do him with a strap-on. He showed me what it was, and there's no way in hell am I doing that to another person.

Then we moved on to something else, but he eventually said something like because I was using my virginity as a reward for him, I subconsciously thought about and wanted to lose it. But how weird ironic fitting interesting would it be if I lose it to him, the one person who talks to me about sexual things and such.

He then teased me about how I thought we were falling out. Oh, God. We are definitely NOT falling out now. We video-chatted and got a bit flirty. Just a bit. Not much. Like, if there was a line between the platonic and romantic, I would say we stepped on it that night. Maybe because it was late and my parents were home and the lights were out on both ends and he was in his bed and I in my little dress, but I thought it was a bit intimate. Like, not terribly romantically intimate. We just felt really close. Anyways, I was whispering because I didn't want my parents to hear. He was saying how he was feeling sleepy, since it was 12 AM for me and 3 AM for him, but he didn't want to sleep. Eventually, he was kind of nodding off and asked me to help him have a good night dream. So, I told him a story. "Once a upon a time, there was a nymphomaniac who lived in New York. He was very homophobic and very misogynistic, but one day he woke up and realized that he was actually gay and was very into having sex with a strap-on. He also discovered that he had a diarrhea fetish." At this point, he asked me to stop my pleasant story and asked me to tell him of another one. I did, using myself as the main character. I mapped out how I wanted my life to go. We talked a little bit more and ended call.

My homework remained unfinished.

The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.

M. Dow and I haven't been truly talking lately. He's usually with his girlfriend, but when he does have time to talk, I have nothing to say. When I told him about it, he apologized for being distracted and all that. I think we're semi-good-ish again. Why am I talking like this? It makes me sound less intelligent and more like a teenage girl.

So I've been going on Chatroulette again. After many sleazes and penises and guys who want me to flash, I found this guy named Matt. He seemed nice enough. He said he didn't like his name, so he asked me to pick one for him. I chose Leslie. We joked that we should get married. I was like, "Okay. Show me the ring and consider it done." He was like, "Can we have seven babies?" Silly stuff like that.

He and I were having such a good conversation before I accidentally hit backspace and went to another page. But I'd asked for his Skype just moments before, so it was all good. We just moved to Skype and continued talking. As usual, once I got comfortable with him, I asked him if he was a virgin to add to my data. Yup. He WAS! Like, oh my gosh, someone who is a virgin by choice. And a male too! Attractive and NOT Mormon! Like, wow. I thought that species was extinct.

Once we finished talking, I Stumble Upon-ed this article saying that atheists and agnostics have better sex than religious people. Well, M. Dow is a living proof of that. But it also says that Protestants have a higher chance of not having Alzheimer's later on in life than everyone else. It says that those of minority religious groups often find their values and ideas contested by society which produces stress and shrinks their hippocamuses.

I feel so bad making fun of Mlle. Murphy with Mlle. Jang today. She was walking and we were walking behind her and we mimicked her waddle all the way from the office to Mme. Mills' room. Yeah, we're terrible people. Me, especially, since I'm the instigator.

There's something I want to write, but I have it all written out in one of my notebooks and when I have that notebook, I'll type it up and compare it to how I feel now.

Even Mlle. Smith has realized by now the limitations we have on our relationship. We only talk about other people when we're with each other. Our strings are no longer intertwined. They are coming undone day by day. She stays here while I move on with my life somewhere else. We love each other, but we no longer have much in common in the present nor the future. It's quite a sad thing to think about.

If you don't get everything you want, think of the things you don't get that you don't want.

So...M. Dow and I have been flirting with the inappropriate ever since we started starting, but we just kind of...crossed it yesterday. I'm not supposed to repeat it since I promised him what happened would stay between the two of us, but Mlle. Jang knows what I'm talking about since I kind of told her before it happened and she guessed it right after it did happen, if that makes any sense.

So...it happened. We agree NEVER to participate in that kind of thing again. And we won't talk about it ever again.

Mlle. Jang and M. Dow and I three-way Skype-d for the first time today. He was not awkward with her at all; I'm glad. Now he knows that she knows but not because I broke our promise. Now it's just the three of us that know.

Mlle. Jang agrees that M. Dow is a very interesting person to talk to.

Anyways, I was talking to Mlle. Jang when M. Dow went to talk to his girlfriend and we decided to go on Chatroulette. I got a cute guy straight away and we switched to Skype to talk while Mlle. Jang nexted guys after guys looking for someone to talk to.

So, me and that guy just talked about college. He was older than me by a year, and he was so cute...so European and so mature, but he was American and only 19. At one point, he just stopped talking and said, "God, you're so attractive." Haha. I was a very happy girl at that point. Plus, he's a virgin. Crazy.

Mlle. Johnston ate lunch with Mlle. Smith and I today.

Mlle. Smith...I have no idea what to talk to her about beside talking about other people.

Just me and Mlle. Jang being the lovely and classy people that we are.

So, I helped set up for the Buddha's Birthday Festival and got my legs distorted by mosquitoes in the process. It's an extremely lovely sight, swells and bumps where it's meant to be smooth and straight. Jesus. Short season is coming soon too. Karma's a bitch.

Man is harder than rock and more fragile than an egg.

It never occurred to me that other people go through identity crisis too. I always thought that only emo people and me had that kind of problems.

Like, M. Dow...I never would have thought that he is the person he is  from the first glance.He's the completely opposite of what I was expecting. But we opened up and he told me all those things about him and his problems.

And then I read M. Ward's accumulation of problems today. It's quite terrible, but it's a bit like mine, only so much more intense. Poor thing. I'd love to help, but I don't know how.

Funny thing was...right before I started reading it, Mlle. Pearson, this girl in our AP Art class found it funny--ridiculous, in  fact--that I asked the people around about those moral dilemma questions. You know, there are people like her who just kind of cruise through life all happy. And then there are people like M. Dow,  M. Ward, and I. Why can't we live like that? 

I'm not saying I'm incredibly intelligent and philosophical, but sometimes it seems like having the ability of think is almost like being cursed, being born a human is an unfortunate event. We're "blessed" with consciousness to feel all the things we don't want to feel like frustration, anxiety, emptiness, hopelessness, loneliness, etc. But then again, we also enjoy the good things in life, but I can't really think of any right now.

I remember several years ago, a monk was lecturing on how fortunate we were for being born human, and I remember thinking, "I'd rather be that ugly-ass plecs fish. Sure, it's eating waste from the other fishes, but it doesn't know any better. If it tastes good to it, then it shouldn't matter. It's happy where it is with how it is. Not like us."

Now, I kind of don't think that way anymore.. Sure, it'd be nice to not know any better, but knowledge is power. It's been given to me, and if I don't use it, it'd be a waste. I only have this life once. Might as well make the most out of it.

I gave a ride to a random stranger today. Non sequitur.

I know I've been bitching about how I want this year to be over, but now that it's getting close, I want it to last just a bit more. I hate getting into habits and schedules because I feel so nostalgic looking back and remembering. Like, for the past few days and weeks, I've been coming home from school and talking to Mlle. Jang and M. Dow on Skype for hours, listening to classical music, and updating this blog. All this will end in about two weeks. I'll be working all summer. I don't know how college will go.

It just seems like, yeah, I welcome change and all that, but I was in Mme. Kennedy's room today and thought, "In a few days, I probably will never see this classroom again. I will never walk in these hallways again." All the things that I've grown accustomed to...they'll all be gone soon. There's this sinking feeling in my stomach. I don't want to let it go, but I know I have to, I want to let it go because I'll be on to bigger and better things. 

But it's a bit sad and hard to let go. Well, really sad, actually...to let something go after you've been used to it for so long...says that girl who's willing to throw everything and everyone a few months ago.

Anyways, I thought about my plan to study abroad in London and how I was just going to drop the bomb at the airport. That's not very different from running away. It's a childish thing to do. The adult thing to do would be to inform my mother and stand my ground, and I will do just that. I won't let her be in control of my life anymore. I don't want to go through life feeling like a doll and empty and commit suicide by age 30.

I've discovered that if you say, "I'm thirty years old" in a British accent, it's the saddest thing ever. Oh, God. Thirty. I never want to turn thirty.

Anyways, I've also discovered that being pretty has it advantages. Many, actually. And I'm not even like, the prettiest girl out there. Not even close. Cars stop for me more often. People let me cut in line (not because I ask). People just help me out when I need help when I don't ask for it. Like, it's great. For example, today, it was very windy, and, being a student in Mme. Berman's class, I have a folder full of crap mixed in with stuff I actually need, I was carrying my English folder in such a way that everything fell out and flew all over. I just stood there in shock at what I've just done, but almost all the people around me stopped what they were doing to grab my papers. There were so many, just flying in the wind. I'd walk for a few steps and someone would come up and hand me paper. It was nice. Unlike how things were years before, when the same thing happened and no one stopped to help. Like, literally nobody. 

It's good for me, but it's very unfair. I read this book a while ago and the main character was an ugly duckling in middle school, but she cleared up her acne and got hot for high school. One of the things she said was that pretty girls got head starts. Head starts, indeed.

Haha. This is a bad picture.

Speaking of Skype, I was talking to Mlle. Jang and watching a video at the same time. And I fell asleep. Oopsie. For two hours!

Mlle. Jang seems so lucky. She has parents who support what she does. She's allowed room and freedom and is provided with a protective environment to grow as a person. I asked her if she had any identity issues or stuff like that, and after she told me, I felt even more oppressive by my family.

Friendship needs no words - it is solitude delivered from the anguish of loneliness.

Best day of the whole year today, I think.

It started normally. We dissected a pig's heart today. Crazy exciting.

Anyways, so I was kind of ticked the whole day because this weird girl named Mlle. Choi was totally jacking my style, man. I just hate seeing what I always wear on her, especially when she's so awkward and not pretty. I don't know, there was something about her before that I didn't like. Now I definitely don't like her even more.

So what she had on looked like what I had on for the day, so when school was over, I came home and changed into a formal/corporate-y cocktail dress. I know, I should have just wore what I had on, but wore it better--not to brag, but I do anyways--but why should I when I could have worn something so much better? It's like, I'm moving on to bigger and better things...like this cocktail dress.

So, then I got Mlle. Jang to dress up formal-er too. I went to her house to help her pick out the outfit. Then I tried to get Mlle. Smith to dress formal-er too. Okay, that girl. She's freaking 18 but she doesn't know how to use a god dang computer? That's ridiculous. Anyways, we figured out how to work Skype and showed Mlle. Smith our outfits so she could kind of match.

The show was fun but uneventful. I didn't win anything. Neither did Mlle. Jang. But Mlle. Smith and Mlle. Tran the Younger won shit ton. Anyways, we had a fun time taking pictures.

Anyways, M. Ward had so much sugar, so by the time we got to the restaurant, he was high as a kite.

So, the restaurant was pretty dark, and when I walked in, I saw this really cute guy. I was like, "[Mlle. Jang], did you see him?", but Mlle. Jang just tripped so she was like, "Did you see me?" Well, she looked and said he wasn't that cute.

Anyways, he and this waitress named Kendal was our servers for the evening. His name was Eric. He wasn't there when she introduced him, and someone was like, "My friend thinks Eric is cute." I was dying. She said that it was his birthday today and that he'd just turned 25. Monsieur Purwadi immediately and quite loudly said, "Hey, he's within your age range too!" since I told him and Mlle. Jang yesterday that 25 would be the oldest I would date at 18. Kendal the waitress was like, "I can find out if he's single or not."

So he came out. We sung Happy Birthday. His name turned out not to be Eric. I don't quite remember what it was, but we each told him he looked like an Oliver, Ian, Thomas, and all that. Anyways, it was fun. We got stuffed and had a really nice conversation. Multiple, actually. Then we went outside and take more pictures.

I'm kind of very jealous of Mlle. Smith and M. Dow. It just seems like they look so much more attractive now that they're in a relationship. Grr. That's so counterproductive. You're supposed to look super hot and ooze pheromones when you're NOT in a relationship to attract potential mates. What are you doing oozing all that for when you're already taken? It's not fair.

So, I dropped M. Ward and Mlle. Smith off afterward. Then we went to Mlle. Jang's house and I let her try on the dress that I had on. It looks better on her unaltered, but there's a reason it's unaltered. Anyways, it's pretty easy to alter that dress for me--I only have to wear a belt with it. So she might be wearing that dress or the outfit that I've already picked out to this Korean concert.

Anyways, I came home and talked to M. Dow. I really really really like him--platonically, of course. I'm so glad I've met on Chatroulette. Sure, I've opened up a lot more, but I think he knows the most about me, and he says I know the most about him. We're just kind of using each other, in a way, I think. Like, an outlet. We both listen to each other's problems, and it's safe that way because they're, in a way, not part of our "real" world.

I asked randomly during the conversation that if he could change anything, what would he change. He told me about the step-father he had when he was three to five that really messed him up. He was talking about that and being lonely, and toward the end, he said he was so glad that he met me and that we became friends instead of him being just another contact on my Skype or another "friend" on my Facebook. He'd spend the day with his friends and girlfriend and come home and talk to me. Plus, he said he was glad that I was cute and great to talk to. Well, the feeling is very very very mutual.

I'm going to laugh so hard if he falls in love with a chubby black girl who has red hair and is a Mormon or something equally religious. Gonna laugh so hard. Like, no jokes.

Know what I'm going to do? Since I take a picture of M. Dow once a day anyways, I'll post it here.

It's kind of sad, but I'm glad other people feel lonely too. It makes me feel better since I'm not the only one.

I've realized that I don't always say very kind things about Mlle. Smith. Yeah, she's this way and that, but she's a very dear friend and a lovely person to have and be around. Maybe that's not apparent in this blog, but I know this for a fact and I don't want to keep having to repeat this. Unless, of course, I get really mad at her one day...but I doubt it.

Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.

M. Dow told me more about his mother's relationships. From what I can tell, they kind of really messed up how he views women and girls. The whole time he talked, I didn't know what to say because when I tell him about my parents and stuff, my problems just seemed so trivial compared to his. I'm just glad he's NOT like Mlle. Yasakova and doesn't say things like, "I wish I have your problems."

Anyways, I kind of told Mlle. Jang about M. Dow more and more. I told him about the above in details since I know she sympathizes with him, which she did. Dang, she was on Skype with me for from 9 to 11:30. I was talking to her and chatting with M. Dow at the same time. Then Mlle. Jang suggested that we did the rating game. Most of my friends got 5s from M. Dow--WTF?--even though Mlle. Jang and I picked out really pictures of them.

I find it a lot easier to open up to people now that I've opened up to M. Dow, but I really think it depends on the person. Like, Mlle. Jang is a good person to talk to. Mlle. Smith is a different matter. Even though I hangout with her everyday, I find it very hard to talk to her about serious subjects, so we almost always talk about other people. It's kind of a shallow relationship, what we have.

Today, Mme. Mills took the AP Studio Art kids to Starbucks for the first two periods and bought us coffee. It was "supposed to be" an Artists' Walk, where we go and get inspiration. NOT. We just drank coffee and socialized, which was nice because Mlles. Jang and Smith and I got to know M. Purwadi a bit better. I always knew he was a character, but I didn't know that he was also a fun person to have a decent conversation with either.

Steak Night tomorrow! Whoot whoot!

Seduction is always more singular and sublime than sex and it commands the higher price.

M. Dow suggests that I should seduce someone.

It's just that we were talking about how he has his girlfriend, and now Mlle. Smith has M. Smith (haha). He says I should just go out and seduce a boy and get experimental with him.

Well, you know, it's pretty easy for him to go and say, "Just seduce some guy you think is cute." He has all the experiences and none of the inhibitions. I have never done anything before, and I don't know if I like the thought of toying with someone's feeling to relieve my boredom and loneliness. It's not really loneliness, actually. Maybe it's the desire to be loved by the opposite sex. I don't know. It just seems like since everyone's coupled up, I just feel kind of left out--not really. Like, sure I want to be in the same lovey-dovey relationship and do lovey-dovey romantic stuff too, I guess.

Anyways, the most farthest I've ever gone with a boy is sitting by him on the bleachers. Like, side by side. Arms touching. I remember how his arm felt really warm to the point where it was almost hot. It seemed to last forever, which was nice, but once it was over, it was over way too quick. Yeah, so the point is, I wouldn't know what to do, being the seductress.

Thing is...when he said that, I immediately thought of M. Lythgoe. I could always try. There'd be no harm done. We'd never ever see each other again after graduation until our high school reunion which won't be upon us any time soon. By that time, we'll be able to either forget about it or to laugh off the stupidity of youth.

But, let's say that I do succeed and he ends up liking me, what happens next? He's restraint by his faith; I by my family. It's just not going to work out. Plus, M. Dow says he'll disown me as a friend if I get with a Mormon guy. The last part doesn't really matter, but it's not as simple as it seems. Nothing good will stem out of it. He's Mormon; we won't hold hands let alone make out. Do I really want to lead him on (like he's led me on) and just leave it unfulfilled like that?

No, I don't.

The other option is M. Ward, but if I'm not willing to hurt M. Lythgoe's feelings, I'm definitely do NOT want to wound M. Ward in anyway. He's deeper and more sensitive. Plus, he's a lot closer to me than M. Lythgoe, who I barely know. Why should I spare a stranger's feelings but not my friend's?

Our Steak Night is on Thursday, right after the second to last Art Show. I'm excited. It's going to be a juried show. I hope I at least get an Honorable Mention.

Tomorrow, we're all walking to Starbucks for the first two periods. Yup. Exciting stuff.

Now that I've started sharing things with Mlle. Jang, I've felt less lonely. Like, a lot less. Which is good. Anyways, I kind of helped her pick out an outfit for this concert she's going to next Friday: black blazer, white, patterned tank, black shorts, black tights, and black flats. That outfit's so me, but hopefully it'll look more her when she has it on since her body shape is not like mine.

Logic ridicules love, and love smiles knowingly at the whole foolishness of logic.

I've started to think of some people in real life as how I call them on here, like Mlle. Smith and especially M. Lythgoe.

Pie day in Calculus today. And tomorrow. And Wednesday.

I'm kind of glad that I shared this with Mlle. Jang. Out of all them, I think her wavelength resembles mine the most, if that makes any sense. I know Mlle. Smith won't "get" it.

Regarding Mlle. Smith's new relationship with M. Smith (haha), I wish Mlle. Peltz would shut her mouth and butt out. She was all probe-y and asking a bunch of invasive questions like it was her own relationship. She's a nice person, she just needs to talk slower so she can filter what she has to say.

I've been very inspired to open up my mind lately and I've been reading poems and scientific findings as well as watching videos of philosophical ideas and how things work. I've learned how the heart works and what Charles Bonnet syndrome is. My brother got curious and started to watch it with me.

We've determined that he also has synesthesia. His is the one where numbers have personalities. At first, I thought he wasn't, so I was like, "Oh, guess you're not special like me after all." But we kept reading anyways, and he pointed at that particular one and asked if it had to be the exact same thing. No, and he told me about how he thought that the number three was the strongest while the number nine looks most like a nice guy and stuff like that.

Mlle. Connelly told me that she got her period on Prom night. At first, I was like, "That sucks. Thanks for sharing." But then she was like, "No. No. That's good." Then I remembered how her boyfriend wanted to have sex with her on Prom night. He booked the hotel and everything even though she didn't want to. At the prom, when she had to leave, I was trying to stall her because I knew she didn't want to go where she was going. But I'm glad she didn't have to go through with it. I do not like her boyfriend at all. He seemed dumb to me before. Now he just seems like a dumb pig or a dumb bear. He wanted them to get married in the future. Oh, God, no.

For some reason, I can see Kaylyn being stalked and killed if she breaks up with him. But then again, I'm quite opposite of a psychic. Events most often unfold in the exact opposite directions of my predictions. I hope to God that this is NOT an exception.

M. Dow and I talked again today. Surprise surprise. About his girlfriend, girls in general, the type of people that girls are attracted to, the image of a musician, dating a musician, being synesthetic, moral dilemmas, being stranded on an island, and different kinds of love. With the last one, I asked which was more important to him in a romantic relationship, and he had to pick between intimacy and passion. He chose passion, and I asked why. He said, "The two of us are intimate now, but we don't have passion for each other. And if we don't have passion, we're not really in a romantic relationship." But he also said that intimacy was also an important factor in a romantic relationship since it would just be lust if intimacy was absent. It would get tiring fast if it was just lust, and then one person would get obsessive and possessive.

I was looking through all the types of love, and I think I would end up being and being with a storgic lover--a lover that is derived from friendship. With this kind of love, my intimacy level would be very high, but then I would forgo passion in exchange.

My mother was a pragmatic lover. In a sense, everyone is a pragmatic lover, I think, but my mother more so than other. She chose my father because she figured he would be able to provide for her financially. She also chose him because she was a lot more attractive than he was and people who attach themselves to less attractive partners are less likely to be cheated on. Plus, she was already thirty, and her biological clock was ticking. As typical of a pragmatic lover, she viewed sex as a mean of procreation. Through religion, she views children as liabilities, but, secularly speaking, she views us as assets that will provide for her later on in life. That said, she's also an agapic lover toward her children. "The advantage of agapic love is its generosity. A disadvantage is that it can induce feelings of guilt or incompetence in a partner. In its deviant form, agape becomes martyrdom."


I won't fall in to the same trap. I won't have an unhappy marriage. I won't force my daughters to endure my unhappiness and disappointment in love through the form of excessive protectiveness and devotion. I won't have the same financial needs because I will provide my own   stability. I won't choose an ugly guy because I do not want to risk my children being ugly, like my mother did, and subject them a life of insecurity. I will have my own life independent of my children. I will have a passionate relationship with my husband. I will let my children grow as people because they are people and not clay that can be molded into whichever way.

"A pregnant woman leading a group of people out of a cave on a coast is stuck in the mouth of that cave. In a short time high tide will be upon them, and unless she is unstuck, they will all be drowned except the woman, whose head is out of the cave. Fortunately, (or unfortunately,) someone has with him a stick of dynamite. There seems no way to get the pregnant woman loose without using the dynamite which will inevitably kill her; but if they do not use it everyone will drown. What should they do?"

This is one of the moral dilemmas that M. Dow and I talked about. Before, I kept wavering between the choices, but once I showed M. Dow, before he could react, I immediately found the solution. It's heartless, actually, but if it means that the majority and I get to survive, I will sacrifice the weak and defenseless. I feel so horrible typing those words. Sure, there's a 98% chance that I will use the dynamite or allow someone else to use it on the pregnant woman without protesting because it's the logical thing to do to preserve the highest number of lives, but I don't know if I'd escape emotionally scarred from that.

We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone.

Prom was yesterday! It got off to a boring start, but it was great. I had tons of fun and tons of compliments on my dress. Although, I have to admit, the slit was a tad too high, but it stands out that way. Plus, I could--and did--pull it off, if I do say so myself.

Mlle. Hatfield and I ended up being each other's date. We just kind of went everywhere together, me going to the bathroom multiple times to touch up my make up and her to the freaking drink place. We made fun of people with ugly dresses and feared for our future children's good taste.

Dancing was fun. I didn't expect to really get into it. It was so awkward at first because the other people were all grinding on each other while we were--or at least I was--trying to dance clean. I just felt to awkward on the dance floor with my high, high heels on. We could BARELY move. I really, really, really wanted to leave, but it was so cold, the only way for us to stay warm was to dance.

Luckily, Mlle. Corwin found us. She looked so hot and classy in her little black dress. It's time like that that makes me wish I have bigger boobs. Anyways, she pulled me and Mlle. Hatfield into the center. It was a lot easier to dance in the center. Warmer too. Once I got used to it, it felt more natural.

Then I got into it and got better--in my humble opinion, at least--and it got really fun. Mlle. Hatfield and I usually dance with each other. We later found Mlles. Jang, Tran (the Elder), Macias, and Lopez. Dancing felt good, which is a given since physical exertions release endorphins, and endorphins make you happy. Anyways, Mlle. Hatfield and I were dancing all night long.

We're definitely going clubbing next year. I've been missing out, man. It just felt so so so great! Like, I'm letting go of most of my inhibitions. The flashing lights feel warm on my face--even though that's not possible. It's just very hypnotic. Like, nothing else matter. I'm both relaxed and hyped at the same time.

I saw Mlle. Lythgoe, like, at most five times. He barely danced, and, when he did, he danced with his huge ass group. He got Prom Prince, but when it was time to dance with the Prom Princess...there was something going on. I didn't know what.

Anyways, there were a bunch of people not dancing. They just sat there. And there were some who were texting on and off the dance floor. I don't know about you, but I didn't pay all that money to look pretty sitting down and texting while everyone else had fun.

We went to Denny's afterward, Mlles. Macias and Hatfield and I, and had some thing to eat. It was crowded  there, and when I was walking to our table, these guys from the table next to us just all turned and looked at once. Not obvious at all. Then when I left for the bathroom, this guy on the way there, turned his whole body around and just watched blatantly as I walked toward him. When we were at Denny's, I was way tired and way beyond caring. So, the whole time, I made eye contact with him as I walked. Looking back, that was probably the shittiest idea in the history of shitty ideas.

We went on Chatroulette afterward at my house till five in the morning. This guy said we were pretty. As a joke, I was like, which one? He said the one in the middle, which was me. Haha. That makes me happy.

But, the thing about Prom that really got me disillusioned was how many people were grinding and dancing dirty. It just looked so wrong...a girl dancing close to a boy, and he holds her and kind of guides her butt to totally stimulate himself. It's dirty and disgusting and it makes the girl seem like a sexual object whose whole purpose is to be a stimulant for the boys. I don't like that. Not one bit. It's almost sex, but people do it out in the open for other people to see.

Why are we so obsessed with sex? It's all over the media. Artists who don't have any talent can just BS a few verses about sex and make tons of money while people who actually have talents don't get the same recognition. Little kids are wrapped up in it. It's messed up. It is no longer just a human instinct to procreate and preserve the human race; it's a pleasure, a past time. I don't know. I don't know what to think.

Maybe it's just the way sex is represented by the media that turns me off. I hate how women are viewed as objects for MEN to assert their masculinity. Fuck that. If that's really sex, I'm joining a convent.

But I've talked to people--guys--who don't see it like that--thank God. The guy from London--the one that advised me to masturbate--talked of sex like it's a way that further connects two people in a relationship. M. Dow also talks about it that way--and that's saying something since he's such an asshole. M. Dow also says that it brings two people closer. He also tells me bunch of things that I dare not repeat because of the inappropriate nature of those statements. I just hope that I meet men like M. Dow and the guy from London--I'm going to give him a name...let's see...oh, this is hard...how about Guy from London Who Also Likes Ed Sheeran?--and not pigs like Little Wayne and all those good-for-nothings.

M. Dow called me today right after Mlles. Macias and Hatfield left. We talked for an hour or two. I asked him about the limitation of the things we could talk about now that he had a girlfriend. We obviously can't talk so explicitly about sex anymore, but we could always talk about life. He told me about the theory scientists are postulating where the human DNA was altered in a way that would explain the small time gap that human had to evolved from apes or whatever to humans. Interesting stuff. I told him about Prom and grinding and stuff. We talked about his new girlfriend. He thinks she's not on the same level intellectually. He says they don't have much to talk about when they're not flirting and teasing each other. I tell him to talk to her about things like he talks to me, but he says that she won't understand. I feel like he's almost afraid to have girls know the deeper, less go-lucky side of him.

I'm leaning heavily toward atheism now. Do I really believe it or am I just easily persuaded?

I'm also thinking of not waiting till marriage. Like, 10% for not waiting. I've told M. Dow and M. Giusti and they both said I had to make that decision myself. Then M. Dow and I got into a really, really good conversation for about two hours. But then I don't remember how, but he said that he didn't feel any attachment to anybody in his life. Like, deep attachment.

I mean, I understand cause that's how it is with me. To me, right now, relationships are like balloons on flimsy strings. They could float away for all I care. Heck, I'd throw them all away if it comes down to that. I thought I was a lonely person, but the way he described his loneliness made me cry because it's so much more intense than mine. Like, I've seen bits and pieces of this side before, but this time it really got to me. He thinks that everyone's replaceable, and he too is replaceable in other people's lives. I tell him that I wish that he'll find somebody who he won't feel this lonely with. He's convinced that he won't find that person since he's drawn to innocence; he wants to cuddle with cute, sweet, and affectionate girls, and he doesn't think they can handle that kind of thing. He says that I wouldn't even talk to him if he was ugly and/or fat, that I was just drawn to him because of his outer shell, like everyone else.

For an egoist, happy-go-lucky person, he certainly didn't seem like it at all. Is that what happen to attractive people? Do they doubt their own substance because they suspect that people are attracted to them because of their looks? What happens when a person's inside does not match his/her outside but his/her outside is doing a good job of attracting the "right" kind of mates?

My head hurt. I haven't been able to think straight all day. It took me hours just to write this post.

Mlle. Smith and M. Smith (haha) have finally made it Facebook official.

A friend knows the song in my heart and sings it to me when my memory fails.

M. Dow's gotten a girlfriend! He looked so happy when he was telling me how he asked her. It was very cute! I'm incredibly jealous. He usually smiles, but that day he just seems to smiles brighter the whole time we talked. Very, very jealous. He was like, "I finally have someone to cuddle with at night. Now we need to find someone for you to cuddle with." I was like, "Fat chance." I can't bring boys home, and, more importantly, I can't find anyone to really, really like.

When will I be that happy?

Speak of which, I went to the bank yesterday to exchange money for my mother. While there, I also wanted to take my mother off of my account so she couldn't see my expenses. So, the lady at the counter called this really cute guy over to help me. I was smooth, like I usually am, losing my debit card despite having it five seconds ago, dropping my phone on the ground, and sucking on a dumdum like a little child. Then I told him what I wanted to do, and he had to verify some information, like address, phone number, etc...but once he got to my school, he was like, "[My high school]? What do you do there?"

I was like, "Um...go to school?"

Then he asked me where I was going next year, and I was like, "UC Irvine."

I don't know, I just feel like whenever I say I'm going to UC Irvine, I feel like everyone just automatically thinks, "Of course. An Asian girl going to an Asian school." That's what I thought I saw in his eyes when I told him. Anyways, he asked what I was going to study, and I was like, "Oh, biomedical engineering."

He looked impressed and asked if there was a company in the area I wanted to work for. I was like, "Well, I'm actually trying to get out of the area. New York...Europe...you name it and there's a good chance I want to go there." Then he got really excited and said that he was super stoked that Chase had plans to go international soon, which means that he could visit other countries.

Anyways, the whole thing with taking my mother off the account didn't work out because she would have to be present and signed this thing where she agreed to be taken off my account. Yeah, that's not gonna work. He said to just explain it to her, but I told him that he didn't know my mother.

What I'm doing is closing down my account and creating a new one. Problem solved. He gave me his business card so I could call him when I decide to open the new account. His name is Monsieur P. Southerland.

I'll definitely call. If I still have the business card, of course.

I've given Mlle. Jang the link to this blog, which means more censoring. Unless I can get her to stop reading it until the end. On the flip side, I've told M. Giusti that I am recanting my promise of giving him the link. I just feel uncomfortable with him knowing some things about me. I just feel like he's judging me and disappointed in seeing the real, nasty version come out. I just feel like he's put me on this pedestal for so long, imagining that I'm this lovely, kind, and innocent little girl that will always stay that way.

I don't need another copy of my mother, thank you very much.

I actually had a really good conversation with Mlle. Jang yesterday. She just seems more open than Mlle. Smith. Mlle. Smith seems increasingly close-minded to me now. I think we've outgrown each other. I have increasingly find myself without things to say to her because of that. There's really not much to talk about anymore. She finds it weird that I keep in touch with some of the guys on Chatroulette. She thinks I'm crazy for believing in the correlations between chemicals one's body produces and attraction even though it's scientifically backed.

On the other hand, Mlle. Jang laughs at stupid stuff with me. She listens to my stories about M. Dow without judging. Mlle. Tran the Younger listens too. I like that.

Talking about friendship makes me think of the other day when we were talking about weddings and our bridal parties. Mlle. Jang asked if Mlle. Smith would be my maid of honor, and I immediately said "no" without thinking. I feel bad because Mlle. Smith looked a bit hurt, but at least she was still a bridesmaid. I BS-ed my way out of that one, saying that I needed someone who wasn't wishy-washy, and Mlle. Smith said she understood.

That's not why. I'm constantly on the lookout for a candidate to be my maid of honor. Someone who can pass for my twin, yet is not uglier or prettier than me. Someone who is on the same wavelength. Someone who can finish my thoughts and sentences. Someone who always know the right presents to give me because she understands me so perfectly. Someone who will bitch-slap me when I step out of line. Someone who will force me to eat when I should but don't feel like eating. Someone who will love me regardless of my faults and misgivings, of my shallowness and pettiness, of my callousness and weaknesses, etc...

Once I find her, that girl will be my maid of honor.

If this is what I look for in a best girl friend, what exactly am I looking for in a soul mate?

Waiting is a trap. There will always be reasons to wait. The truth is, there are only two things in life, reasons and results, and reasons simply don't count.

M. Dow has this ability to bring up things I want to say but am unable to say it.

I hate it when you care more than other person. Or when the other person cares for you so much more than you care for them. It just needs to be the right amount.

I always wonder if he gets bored talking to me. Today, he brought it up, asking if I'd get bored talking to him since I mentioned I get bored of people easily. Since we were being perfectly honest, I told him.

He's always trying to convince me not to wait, and I've told him I'm having second thoughts about waiting, but I think I will probably (the chances are higher than 70%) wait until marriage. Since then, he thinks I'm going to crack. Well, I said, "I'm going to prove you wrong." Then, for some reason, I wondered out loud if I'd see him at my wedding. He said that it would depend on the location. I said it might be abroad. He said, no, but if it was in NY, he'd definitely go.

Then he asked why we'd have to wait till my wedding to see each other and why we couldn't just meet to hangout. Well, that'd be kind of hard since I live in California and he New York. I mean, that'd be nice, but I think it's much much much too soon right now to be meeting.

I'm sleepy. I can't think straight. I will write more tomorrow.

Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That's why it's a comfort to go hand in hand.

I wonder if I live vicariously through M. Dow. I sure hope not. He's a pleasant person to talk to, but I'd hate to become obsessively attached to him.

At first, I showed him songs from Amelie and he showed me classical music and this screamo song that was actually pretty good. Then...

We discussed his kinky sexual habits. Jesus, he's very adventurous and experimental between the sheets. And on the other end of the spectrum, there are people like me.

We went from there and got to the topic of marriage. I said I didn't want to not get married because then I would feel like my relationship wasn't stable. He said if he could find a compatible person, he would marry her if that's what she wanted. He said he'd married me if I wanted; he did admit that the scenario was far fetch but not impossible. I said we wouldn't be compatible. He said he thought that we were. I said that he'd be the one thinking for the two of us while I'd be in the corner just following along. He said that he was trying to get me to think for myself, but I could feel his influence whether he extended them or not.

I swear to God, he looks so clean cut and innocent, like someone I would bring home to meet the parents, but he's totally not. Like, my parents would be fooled and they would love him though. The bunch of them don't like black people, are homophobic, don't believe in welfare, and think whites and Asians are the best. Plus, he's atheist and he's a musical genius, so it's perfect. My mother would love him.

Except I feel like he's leading me down the road of depravity. He doesn't believe in honor. He believes that we were born simply to have children to preserve the human race, and everything else in life is just decorations. Well, that's lovely, but having children is definitely not my main goal in life. I believe in honor. I definitely believe in honor.

Speak of which, I found out today that Mlle. Connelly, who is Catholic and was supposed to wait for marriage, actually had already had sex. Like, she was reluctant, but the way she told it was like he pressured her into doing it. She said their whole relationship was based on sex. She told me to wait and that she regretted not waiting.

It just seems like we are forced to grow up too fast. M. Dow says sex isn't a big deal, and yeah, it's convincing when it's told from a guy's perspective and over the Internet. But here is my good friend, one of us, a part of me, being forced and pressured into having sex. I don't think girls can separate affection from sex like guys can. It's just not the same. I know I'm not the most authoritative person to speak about this subject, but I don't like it. Not one bit. I said she should dump him. She's too good for him. He'll only cripple her and drag her down.

So...M. Lythgoe. What is up with that kid? The office girl came today in math class to deliver notes, and M. Lythgoe got one. Yeah, so what? Big deal. But he let out a loud "whoot." I couldn't help but turned around and looked. He made eye contact with me and looked at me as he smiled and said, "I'd never gotten one before." Of course, I couldn't help it and smiled, but I averted my eyes and returned to my task. He left the class. While he was gone, the class was broken up into groups of four to work on the FRQ's from last week's AP Test (oh, God. Why couldn't we just left it be?). He came back and joined my group even though my group already had four people while Mlle. Pillado's group only had three. I didn't talk to him much because I resolved to give him the cold shoulder when I found out he asked Mlle. Pillado to Prom. Mme. Kennedy later took him from our group and had him form another group with Mlle. Yun from our class to work on the last problem.

I hate how boys give mixed signals. Either you like me or you don't. Stop jerking my chains. But that's okay if he tries because I won't let him disturb my chains the second time around.

I am now friends with M. Reyniers on Facebook. Yup. Exciting news.

Beauty was my mothers law, her religion.

On Thursday, Monsieur Reyniers—this British guy that I met on Chatroulette a while ago—and I talked on Skype. The day before, we briefly talked about Osama bin Ladin, and he sent me this link to documentaries. I watched them. Crazy stuff. So, on Thursday, we kind of talked about that a bit more. Then he asked me about my studies, and I asked him about his line of work. He works for an advertising firm, and the way he describes it makes it seems so interesting and appealing. Like, no joke. He showed me some of the ones that he’d produced. Good stuff. We talked about wine and cultural things.

Then his drunk cousin came home. He’s called Nicholaus. Nicholaus then told me about his date while M. Reyniers tried to get him to leave us alone. Nicholaus asked me if I’d been on a date, and I’d said no because that’s the truth. He was all shocked. He then said I should get together with M. Reyniers, and we laughed since M. Reyniers and I always joked that M. Reyniers was too old—he’s 29. Having conversations with drunk people is the most interesting thing ever. We kind of stopped the conversation because Nicholaus wanted to retire and M. Reyniers had to make sure that he was okay.

I went and finished up my commentaries for the portfolio. And then M. Dow and I talked for four hours.

On Friday, I only went to second period to take my Calculus final. I spent the rest of the day preparing finishing up my portfolio and hanging out. Mlle. Jang finished all 12 Concentration pieces the night before, and I bought her a breakfast burrito to reward her. So did M. Ward, but I didn’t buy him one.

The thing was, everyone was supposed to finish their portfolio and send it to Mme. Mills before noon, which is when the testing period was for Studio Art AP, and we were supposed to be done before 1—ideally, so we could all leave. It actually is supposed to go all the way to five o’clock, but everyone wants to leave early, obviously. Mlle. Ocampo had another AP test before, so she came in at half past noon, which was understandable, but we were just all so pissed when she said she had to take pictures of some of her art works, edit them, and upload them to the site. She hadn’t done her commentaries either. We finished at two o’clock—an hour late.

Mlles. Jang and Smith and I went to Pink Cherries (or whatever the name is) and got frozen yogurt. Good stuff.

Then I came home and read White Oleander since M. Dow was spending the night at the house of the girl that he liked. I didn’t know. I only knew they were going to hangout. So when he didn’t come on at eight, which was eleven for him, I kind of figured he got lucky that night. He later told me that they just hung out and he slept on the floor (on a mattress) in her room. That's awfully romantic. I'd love to be in a relationship like that. He's planning on giving her flowers since she's said she's never received flowers before. Sure, it sounds mushy and everything, but that's pretty sweet for someone who's an asshole.

White Oleander is such a good book! I am in love with the way the author describes beauty. It’s my kind of beauty: traveling all over the world, having beautiful and classy clothes, and having a sophisticate mannerism. But I wouldn’t trade place with the heroine. She’s forced to grow up too fast, too soon. I’d like to retain my childlike thoughts and to blush like someone unjaded.

M. Dow messaged me the moment I got home, which was eight—eleven for him. We looked up porn together although I could only stomach the first few seconds. That didn’t work out, so he showed me other videos like One Guy and One Jar and Two Girls and a Cup. He’d watch each video first so I could kind of get a feel for it by watching his reactions. I don’t know. I thought One Guy and One Jar wasn’t that bad—yeah, he was shoving a jar up his anus and it exploded and he bled, but watching Two Girls and a Cup kind of stimulated my gag reflex.  Then he told me of his plan to not masturbating since it lowered his zinc and testosterone level.  I like talking about stuff like that, like things you do and how it affects your body on the chemical levels. Mlle. Smith and Mlle. Jang and my girl friends wouldn’t understand. Mlle. Karch probably knows, but she seems so chaste and virginal to me; I don’t know if she’d know about that kind of stuff, you know?

We talked about our prospective partners. He liked Asian girls, preferably atheists, but he’d tolerate Buddhists and Agnostics. I liked white guys, preferably atheists or Agnostics. It would be awkward to bring up the fact that we fulfill each other’s requirements, so I didn’t. But he did since he possessed the IQ of 130 but almost no inhibition. He said that we should enter a pact where we’d have children together if things end up not working out. I agreed, because there’d be no harm since things will work out. I think our kids would be funny looking though. Maybe that’s not such a good idea.

Anyways, remember that guy that told me that he loved me? Over the Internet? He’s not actually who I think he is. The guy that I’m thinking of is from the Netherlands, not Austria. The guy that I’m thinking of is very, very, very cute and has a giant painting of New York in the back of him. The guy that I’m thinking of loves kids and wants to work with mentally retarded children. That guy doesn’t love me and he isn’t creepy. Thank God.

M. Dow told me he wanted to see me without make up. I told him, not in this lifetime. 

Here are some of my Breadth pieces:

Sometimes we're so concerned about giving our children what we never had growing up, we neglect to give them what we did have growing up.

M. Dow and I talked again today. Surprise surprise.

It's kind of amazing that I can talk to him about anything. Like, I never thought that I could open up to another human being like that. Especially a boy. Especially a boy like M. Dow.

I told him about some of the things I've wrote about on this blog. About how I sometimes feel like I have no identity; like, I don't know who I am. I know I'm supposed to be, but I don't want to be that person. I've told someone that as long as I keep up my facade, it'll continue to act as a shell to cover the emptiness that's inside. It's sad to think that I'm empty inside. I have my mother imposing her will on me at home, and I have expectations for me at school.

I can't wait until next year, where I'll be away from my mother, friends, and their expectations, and just start growing as a person. I'm already 18. I thought this transformation was supposed to be done and over with.

I have a friend, Mlle. Karch, who is amazingly intelligent and beautiful, except she doesn't think so. She always says that I am pretty, and she always looks like she's embarrassed about herself when she says it. Like, I just so so so glad that no matter how intelligent she is, she still can't read minds. If we were to strip down, bare and naked; no clothes with flattering cuts, no tights that accentuate lengths, no sweaters that conceal curves, no make-up, nothing...we wouldn't even be on the same level. It's weird to think of people looking at me when I'm unclothed, but I just feel like they wouldn't give me a second glance if that was the case. Like, I'm not a lesbian or a bisexual or anything, but I even get amazed, and I'm a girl. She doesn't even wear make-up, and sometimes when we're talking, I'd just interrupt her and say, "You're so pretty; I'm jealous."

But thank God we live in a shallow and materialistic world where minor tricks and gimmicks mask emptiness and ugliness. But only for a while. I seriously need to grow as a person.

M. Dow told me that I was interesting to talk to when I told him all that. I was like, "WHAT?! I know you're sleepy, but if you're that delirious, go to bed." He says he likes talk to me because I'm a contemplative person and he likes to hear my thoughts. I like to hear my thoughts too. When I try to voice them, they come out awkward. He sums it up nice and tidy for me.

I wonder how long our little thing will last? He must get bored of talking to such an insecure girl sooner or later, and he already told me earlier that he found insecurity very unattractive.

I thought I was done with the headband craze (I owned more than ten different headbands at the beginning of this year; that number is gradually decreasing thanks to a little thing call inertia), but now I seriously want to buy more headbands. Like, no joke.

Guess who I parked next to today at the place to take the Calc. AP test? Who else but M. Lythgoe and his giant-ass truck? He keeps looking at me. If he has something to say, he should say it.

There is a great relief in experiencing the worst vicariously.

M. Dow and I talked for three hours straight yesterday. That's the longest time I've ever seriously talked to anybody. I really do enjoy talking to him even if he's homophobic. He's just very open. Like, you know how girls are looking for Mr. Right? Well, me too, but not Mr. Right All the Time (ha-ha. I'm so funny I crack myself up). But having a Mr. Right All the Time to turn to for advices and stuff? Isn't that, like, perfect or what?

I gotta stop saying like. I sound so dumb when I do, but I feel like my speech is naked when I don't.

Today, we talked for an hour. Well, not really. It was actually a pretty boring hour. He was texting and I was listening to Ed Sheeran. He told me (on and off) about this girl that he really liked and showed me a picture, but I think she looks like a skank. Not because I'm jealous. It's just how I feel. But maybe she looks horrible in pictures. I know how that feels. I'll just trust his judgement on her prettiness since he uses that same scale when he tells me I'm pretty. Anyways, I got bored, so I feigned sleepy and ended the call.

Then I uploaded some of my Concentration pieces to the College Board website. Like, that whole time, I could feel depression creeping up on me again. Like, it's this feeling where something is clawing at the top of my stomach, an inch below the sternum, trying to climb up my esophagus. It's not a pleasant feeling. I hate it. I hate the warmer weather that always seems to trigger it. I need to go somewhere nice and cold all the time.

Then M. Dow video called me again and we talked for another hour. Like, actually talked this time. I told him about my mom and how her attachment issues. He was telling me stuff, and, all of the sudden, I started tearing up. I excused myself and went to the bathroom to wipe my tears. I knew it wasn't noticeable that I had tears in my eyes because I looked at my part of the screen right before and tried to act as normally as possible, but when I came back, he apologized for making me feel upset. Honestly, I'm getting my period soon. I always get depressed and become an emotional wreck right before, but the second part is a bit more manageable since I know about it. Anyways, we talked about depression, and he told me some really personal thing that I won't mention on here since M. Giusti will read it when I'm done with this blog at the end of the summer and I won't feel right indirectly telling someone someone else's secret. Like, yeah, I gossip. Not gonna lie, but this is different. It's not like, oh, that weirdo Johnny says he likes our Sarah; he says not to tell her; like hell we're not going to tell. It's not like that. It's like, deep stuff.

Anyways, I tell him how I sometimes feel lonely. Like, I just feel like people here aren't on my wavelength and they're not on mine. Yesterday, M. Dow showed me a video explaining how the string theory works and explained it to me more when I got lost. This morning, I asked Mlle. Smith if she knew about the string theory, and the first thing out of her was, "It's retarded." I barely finished my sentence. I was just so appalled. I asked her how it is retarded and she said, "I don't know. It's just retarded."

It's kind of cliché, but I just died a little bit right there. Like, this is my best friend. The one person that I'm closest with. Just dismissing something like this just because she doesn't understand it. I'm feel bad talking about my own best friend like this, but she just seems so ignorant to me right then.

Anyways, so I told him that I've got no one to talk to about things that I want to talk about, and he was like, "Well, you can talk to me." I smiled, of course, because I'm always smiling, and said thank you. Then I went on and described how I envision my ideal best girl friend to be. Like, I want her to look kind of like me...like, we could be taken for twins or sisters. Our appearance would compliment each other's. She'd be on the same wavelength as me. So, I told him and he said that I was way too idealistic and I'd just end up disappointed in the end. Then I got teary-eyed again and he looked like he felt so bad, but I told him, so we were good.

I shouldn't have promised M. Giusti access to this blog. It's become an edited, fragmented, and impartial representation of my life and feelings. I've just realized that today when I chose not to put in M. Dow's reasons for being depressed.

Anyways, I've picked my five Quality pieces.

The last one was fought over when a copy went on sale. I'm so incredibly flattered, so I told my mother. She said something like, who in their right mind would pay money for that photo? Like, my mood was so good before, and the moment she said, it's just like, I need to get out of here. But she stayed and asked me where Mlle. Velasco was going next year. I told her SBCC, and she was like, "Why?" I was like, well, she wants to get out of the city but she still doesn't want to pay a lot, that's why. And she was like, "Kids over here are so traitorous. What about her mother and all those kids?" I'm sorry, but it was her mother's decision to have those kids and her responsibilities shouldn't be left to Mlle. Velasco to sacrifice her youth the way my mother's asking me to sacrifice mine. God, now I'm all pissed off.

M. Dow thinks my mother is living vicariously through me. I suspected as much. I just want her to leave me live my own life, free from her interference. I want to be financially stable first, though, before I confront her. She'd thrown me out before over something ridiculous before. I'm planning to go abroad Junior year in college and I think that's when I'm doing it. I'll be calling from the airport and be all, "Hey, I'm going to England in a few minutes. See ya in a couple of months. K. Bye!" and deal with the consequences when I come back.

Eff this. My mother needs to get her own life. I feel so frustrated.