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.

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.

The worst things in life come free to us.

I can feel depression creeping on me. I don't know why. It's scary. I never want to go through it again.

Sometimes, I wish I could just sleep to past time. I hate waking up.

Anyways, let's move onto a brighter and happier topic...such as love. I am in love. I am absolutely, hopelessly, and head over heels in love with Ed Sheeran, a British singer/songwriter. He's hilarious, sweet, and real at the same time. If you look up his pictures, he looks kind of chubby and not that cute, but if you watch him singing, he's adorable and witty. That British accent helps of course. It always does.

I've decided. I'm marrying a sexy British man and have adorable British children.

I've blocked the masked guy on both Facebook and Skype. He has no way of contacting me. I feel bad, but he just makes me uncomfortable, assuming that we are closer than we really are. He always calls me "sweetie" and "cutie", and stuff like that makes the guy seems like a skeaze. Is "skeaze" really not a word? "Jason, why are you such a skeaze?" It was in Mean Girls. It's a word.

On Sunday, my mother got into a car accident. The van is totally totaled, so she and my dad have been driving my Lexus around, which means I no longer have legs for Star Testings Week. All of my plans for this week has been canceled. At least my mother is okay.

I've been with killer headaches all week. I wonder why. My dad says it's cause I don't eat enough me. WRONG. I've been eating nothing but meat and fish products even since I received my rejection letter from Barnard. Maybe that's why.

He who trims himself to suit everyone will soon whittle himself away.

My mother has decided to move to Irvine my sophomore year at college. Lovely. There goes the plan that Mlle. Johnston and I have about moving into an apartment together sophomore year. I sure don't want to live with my mom. I'm super sure Mlle. Johnston doesn't as well. I mean, this is our time to live, but she keeps trying to interfere and not letting me live. She's had her chance at life. Let me have mine. Youth only happens once.

Speaking of youth, I've just finished a book. Rebbecca by Daphne du Maurier. It's an okay book with wonderful descriptions of a country estate called Manderley. It sounds so lovely to be so rich and living in such a decadent place, to have a drawing room and a morning room. I am especially in love with the scene where the unnamed heroine enters the morning room, the place where her husband's beautiful first wife Rebbecca always spends her morning writing letters and managing the estate. She describes the ornaments and decorations in the room, and then the descriptions of the writing desk comes up. Gosh, it seems like such a great desk, with labels such as "Unanswered Letters", "Invitations", "Parties", and "Misc.". And then the scene where the unnamed heroine stumbles upon the bedroom in the west wing (she stays in the east wing), and sees how the crazy housekeeper Mrs. Danvers has kept Rebbecca's room in a way that suggests that the owner is still alive. There is the ante-room which has a closet full of beautiful dresses in multitude of materials. I could have died and went to heaven right then.

And then there's Rebbecca.

My ideal beautiful woman is always one with black (blackest of black) tumbling past her shoulders. Always. Then, if her skin is dark, then she would have almond eyes (black or green, it doesn't matter). But if she has pale skin, then she has the kind that is almost white, but not quite. Her eyes, then, would be icy, icy blue. Rebbecca has the hair of the beautiful woman in my mind. She's tall and slim and beautiful, not to mention witty and clever and very, very charismatic and charming. She sails and rides and entertains while looking lovely beyond belief. And then we find out she's a nymphomaniac who has sex all the time and enjoys telling her husband, who hates her, about it to provoke him. She's manipulative and deceitful, mocking those around her for believing in her facade. When I was reading, I was very drawn toward her (not in a homosexual way, of course), but I always feel giddy when a beautiful girl or woman or house or room or dress or outfit or closet or scene that has some kind of a natural water source is described. It's weird. I just can't explain it. Oh, yeah, and floor plans! That stuff turns me on. Not in a weird way, of course. It just gets me really excited.

Mlle. Johnston wants to hangout during Spring Break, and, of course, I can't because my mother is incredibly anal. The topic of my prom dress came up and I told her that it would be $200 (it's actually $300. I always tell her that I spend less money that I really do), and she almost flipped out. She was like, "$200? Why are you so extravagant? Why don't you just borrow one of [my cousin's] dress?" Um...because, one, a long dress costs at least $200 and a good one costs at least $600. Mlle. Hatfield got one for $400 and it wasn't even that good looking. Mine's going to be so much better. I'd rather spend a wee bit more money on something I love than spending any at all on something I don't care about, but that's beside the point because I'm spending less than most people anyways. Two, because it's my own money? Three, because she and I don't wear the same size? Four, who borrows a dress for Prom? That's like borrowing a wedding dress. Who does that? Certainly not me. I would not get married if I couldn't wear my own wedding dress.

Actually, sophomore year, I decided that I wasn't going to marry, but then I thought about it and I really really really want to have my own wedding dress, so I decided to marry after all. Yeah, so...she's ridiculous! I'm paying for it with my own money! Why is she even complaining? Everyone else's parents are paying for theirs and they actually go shopping with their daughter.

Ugh. Talking about this makes me feel so suffocated and oppressed. I wish time flies faster.

Rejection helps you to discover who does not vibrate at the same frequency as you, and therefore it lets you know whom not to waste your energy and resources with.

No go on Barnard. I'm not incredibly bummed, but I speed-walked to the bathroom to cry my disappointment out. It was took less than five minutes. Thank God Barnard was incredibly cold and rude in their rejection letter or else I would be more bummed.

My mother took me to visit UC Irvine on Sunday. It was a lovely campus. There was a lot of Asian people, but the ones I've seen were attractive, so I don't mind. Plus, when I went into the Visitor Center to grab a map, I saw the cutest guy--possibly Greek or Persian--manning the Info Desk. I think I'm going to like it here.

Then we went and got our whole body massaged. It was incredibly nice and it felt so good.

I turned in my SIR and paid my non-refundable deposit yesterday and just paid my housing application fees today. It feels so good, and I am incredibly excited.

I told my friends, and everyone was like, "it's not like I don't want you to go somewhere you really want to go, but I'm glad you're at most an hour away." Mlle. Jang is going to USC. Mlle. Smith is going to CSUCI. Mlle. Connelly is going to LMU. Mlle. Johnston is going to CSU Long Beach and was especially excited when I told her. Mlle. Hatfield hasn't decided yet, but it is most likely that she will go to CSU Long Beach too just to piss Mlle. Johnston off. I wish those two would stop hating each other.

Oh, yeah, I've almost forgotten about Heel Day. It was great. I wore my heels with ankle socks and received so many compliments. Only a few girls did it with me, but they looked great and the other ones looked like they wished that they did it too. Guess who stared at me when I walked to class that day looking great. If you guess M. Lythgoe, you are absolutely correct. Okay, seriously, you've asked somebody else to Prom--you forfeited your privilege to stare, so please stop.

Speaking of Prom...now that it's a little bit more than a month away, I'm kind of freaking out because I hate two pimples on my face because I was lazy last week and ate junk food that whole week, so, yeah, my face is kind of messed up at the moment. So, I've started a new diet and new skincare regiment.


Diet:

• No more junk food.
• Drink a glass of tea per day.
• Drink at least five cups of milk per week.
• Drink a glass of water per day.

Obviously, the point is to detox my body so this kind of disaster will not occur. Ever again. I like having nice skin, thank you very much.

Skincare:

1. Remove make-up and cleanse lightly.
2. Apply honey to face for ten minutes.
3. Rinse and cleanse for real.
4. Tone.
5. Moisturize.
6. Apply this disgusting-smelling night creme to my face.

Well, this is obviously for my night regiment. My morning regiment is steps 3 to 5. And then there's the make-up routine that I have and must specifically follow because I am anal like that.

Make-Up:

1. Moisturize.
2. Foundation.
3. Blush.
4. Chapstick.
5. Eyeliner.
6. Highlighter.
7. Lipstick.
8. Mascara.

And there's my hair styling regiment, but that one's more complicated to explain because it has many variations.

But starting this week till Prom, I will not wear foundation unless my skin looks horrible. I know I said my skin looks disgusting right now, but it really isn't. It just looks unsightly because I look at myself with a magnifying glass. Not wearing foundation is supposed to help your skin, so I'm up for it. Saves me time too.

It seems like Mlle. Jang is trying to be better friends with me, which is nice, except I have no time to hangout because my mother hates it when I go out. Grr. I want to do yoga with her and Mlle. Smith. I just want to hangout like a regular girl, but I can't.

Mlle. Smith and I, and possibly my mother and Mlle. Jang, are going to UC Irvine next Wednesday to tour that campus and dorms. I'm so excited, you have no idea.

Now that I think about it, my mother always gets what she wants. Everything works and fits her plans the way she wants them too. It's like the people upstairs love her more than they love me.

That's a lie. They love me in a different way. I'm an incredibly lucky child. I've never been seriously hurt in my entire life. Never broken a bone...nothing. Almost gotten hit by a car, stepped in shards of glass, lost a foot, gotten rabies, stabbed and sliced by a knife, gotten stuck for weeks in Italy, gotten stuck and lost in Vietnam at the airport, and bunch of other almosts. I'm just lucky like that. My well-being is looked after.

Sometimes I wonder if I truly want to go to UCI or if my enthusiasm is just something my brain make up to ensure my survival through these rejections. Either way, I don't care. I just kind of want to know, that's all.

I talked to Mlle. Kodoma today. It was really nice. I miss her and I wish she was here.

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!

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.

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.