Strangers are just friends waiting to happen.

So, on Sunday, I faked it and it worked. I changed my mind that went with food poisoning. Yup. I walked around in my underwear all day. Lovely feeling.

But, I was taking a nap in my underwear on the couch in the living room with my dress pooled at my feet with the blanket when my daddy and Aunt No. 4 came home early. I barely registered the door opening and then his face before I yanked the blanket up to cover everything. When they were going about, I worked the dress up with my feet and kind of stepped into it while lying down. Yup. I’m pro like that. Jealous?

And then I went on the UCI tinychat thing or whatever. I was the only one there so I invited all my UCI “friends” on Facebook. This guy, M. Paff, whom I added a bit ago, messaged me and we had a small, uninteresting conversation there. He seemed pretty snotty in his profile picture, but I managed to persuade him to move to the tinychat thingy, where Mlle. S. Nguyen and Mlle. K. Nguyen (oh, God, we were all Nguyens) and I were having a pretty decent conversation.

Then Mlle. Jang came on Skype and wanted to talk, but then she got a bit drunk and red in the face with her parents so we ended up not talking. Monsieur Paff accused me of luring him to the chat room and leaving him there. I apologized and persuaded him to switch to Skype, where we talked for two hours before we decided to go back on the chat room.

Okay, what is up with those kids? Like, there’s a group of unattractive Asian kids who monopolized the chat room and ignored everybody else. At first, I was just amused, watching them ignoring the other kids while watching Project Runway, but at one point, this girl named M. Tran (she has the same name as Mlle. Tran the Younger) said, “Why do people wanna go to NorCal anyways? There nothing up here” in the snobbiest voice ever. I spoke up and said in a bitchy tone, “Um…there’s this little city called San Francisco. It’s probably the most cultural place in California.” She had to respond to that. I think I just don’t like her already because M. Paff said that he thought she was cute and that he tried to talk non-creepily to her during one of these chat sessions and she completely ignored him. Like, at first, I was like, okay, even if you’re pretty, that’s still really rude. Then when I found out that she wasn’t even cute, I got pissed for no reason.

So, M. Paff and I switched back to Skype and talked until one o’clock. Yeah, I think we hit it off pretty well. I like him. He seems like my kind of person. I think he’s my first friend at UCI.

So, this 10-day Buddhist thing is completely jacking up my schedule! On Monday, the first day, my mother woke me up at 7:12 and gave me half an hour to get ready to go to the temple. I checked my phone out of habit since I check my emails every day when I wake up, and guess who texted/Skyped me? M. Patterson. You have no idea how happy I was. He made the day so much better for me. I told him of my day on Sunday and he accused me of teasing him and avoiding him at the same time. It’s actually quite the opposite! But I don’t want to, you know, put down and date and make things seem more than they actually are. I think I prefer it this way; we don’t get to talk to each other much, but that keeps things interesting. But either way, he made my day.

Okay, so today is the second day. So…okay, this is my third year doing this Buddhist thing, so I know a lot of people there already and it’s nice seeing them again. So…there’s this guy. Haha. There’s always this guy. Like, last year, I had a massive crush on him. He’s a bit older, in his early twenties, very religious, very hardworking, and incredibly adored by the other temple-goers. I'll call him Monsieur TP since that's his Buddhist initials. So, I had a massive crush on him, right? But I guess I’ve outgrown it, but I’m still pretty aware of him, you know? Like, last year, we talked like, once. I said, “cheater” when he turned the timer to finish before it was time, and he laughed. For ten days, we exchanged one word.

And then this year, we’ve spoken twice…in two days. Haha. Isn’t that such an improvement? The first time was me chasing after him since he had a trash bag and I had a lot of trash in my hand. I said, “Hold on” and he said, “I know, I know.” And then the second time was when I said something in Vietnamese and he was like, “Oh, you know Vietnamese?” in Vietnamese.

Oh, my God. I’m so ridiculous. If that thing with M. Patterson isn’t going anywhere, this is not going anywhere even more. If that makes sense.

In this day and age, some turn 18 and think they're a man or a woman and that's it, but that's just not true. You have to establish your manhood or your womanhood with actions.

Yesterday, me and Mlle. M (one of my close friends since I'd like to keep her identity a secret) smoked pot. She had some and she had stuffed it in her cigarettes. So, she taught me how to smoke a cigarette. We smoked the pot part first. That was alright; the smell was pleasant and very European. But once we got the the tobacco part, I started to choke. Yeah, I don't like smoking tobacco.

I didn't get high since it was my first time, but Mlle. M was very happy while we watched Atonement. Yup. Very very very happy.

After she left, I was just doing random things and talking to M. Dow. And then later, I went on Chatroulette. Two nexts after, I got this really really really handsome guy. We were talking for the longest time, but after a while, I got bored. He was really good looking, yeah, so I kind of wanted to stay longer because of that. But he was just so dull and seemed so unintelligent. I told M. Dow and he said I got spoiled by talking to him. Arrogant little jerk.

Okay, before I continue, I have to mention that I've been talking on-and-off with this guy in New York called M. Patterson for a while. Well, M. Patterson is about 24 or 25, lives in New York City, went to NYU, and does film. He's not the handsomest guy on my Skype list, but he's pretty cute, which is why I didn't next him on Chatroulette. He looks a bit like M. Manwaring, actually, just scruffier. That's alright because scruffy is good. Anyways, so, yeah, I've been talking to him on-and-off and he becomes more and more flirtatious over time.

Usually, we talk at about nine or so if he has time. Usually, it'll be me talking to Mlle. Jang or M. Dow and he'll be interrupting and then I'll multi-task.  Sometimes he talks right after I get home from school. Sometimes late at night. Sometimes right after I wake up, but I'd said, it's not a regular thing.

So, this morning, he Skyped me at six something in the morning. I woke up at seven and Skyped him back. Like, texting, not video chatting. Let's just say it got very, very, very flirtatious (x10), this time, with me reciprocating as well. Then he said that I've gotten him going so much and he wanted to video chat. Okay, so here I was, lying in bed, under the cover, with zit cream all over my face. Hot was the opposite of what I was at the moment. So, I was like, I need to get ready for graduation. That just makes me such a tease though, whatever. But, to be perfectly honest, that conversation was hot. No joke.

So I graduated today. I didn’t feel any different. I just felt freer and less burdened. I thought I was gonna cry a whole bunch, but the only time I teared up a bit was when we were taking pictures, and my mom leaned in and whispered, "You make me so proud."

I was with Mlle. Hatfield the whole time since we were both Honors students and our last names are next to each other. She’s sometimes really annoying, but I’ve been friends with her since 8^th grade and I can tolerate her shit. But I have a feeling Mlle. Smith and I will probably fall out and not stay in touch as much. We simply don’t have anything to talk to each other about beside other people, and I would like to stop doing that. My senior quote is:

I’m aiming to be a great person, but if I can’t be a great person, I would at least want to not be a small person.

              
My family from LA came. Mlle. Truong and Mlle. La were there with their mothers. Well, Mlle. Truong’s mother, Aunt No. 4, lives with me, so only Mlle. La’s mother, Aunt No. 8, and Aunt No. 3 came with Mlle. Truong’s older sister and Mlle. La’s younger brother. So, basically, it was the family’s matriarchs.

These people right here essentially have the final say in everything we young kids do. I’m planning to not have to ask them for permissions to do anything, and the only way to escape their jurisdiction is to study hard and get tons of scholarships. I have to be financially independent, in other words, and grow freaking thick skins.

So, I found out that Mlle. Velasco has gotten a boyfriend, and I know him! Like, damn, I wish Mlle. Jang wasn’t reading this, then I could divulge his name, but since the relationship is supposed to be on the down low, I can’t say it. Mlle. Velasco seemed a bit weary that I knew, and that bugged me. I don’t know. I guess in my mind, there are always the three of us: Mlle. Velasco, Mlle. Smith, and me. We drifted apart, but I always thought that we were in the back of each other’s mind. Like, if I’d gotten a boyfriend, I would call Mlle. Smith and Mlle. Velasco and tell them. Sure, I said up there that it seems like Mlle. Smith and I will fall out, but I’ll probably at least try to keep her up to date on the happenings in life and she, too, will do the same. But this…it just feels like Mlle. Velasco cuts me out of her life completely…I don’t like the feeling of that at all. Whatever. There’s always a first for everything. It kind of freaked me out, so I guess I’m trying to reach out to her more.

You know what’s funny? I’ve always kept a journal. Well, almost always. But I do remember writing in my journal the summer before freshman year, dreading high school and growing up. And now, here I am, finished with high school and excited for college.

I hope I wasn’t the same girl I was before. I think the me four years ago were very insecure and incredibly delusional. She had her own version of how the world was and didn’t really accept reality. Well, not technically her own version. Her mother’s version, actually. She was shy and she was waiting until marriage. She’d never speak her mind and never trust anyone, always confiding in her journal. She wrote fanciful stories and never finished any of them. She lived in her own fantasy world and never bothered with how the real one worked. She was lonely, definitely, and I didn’t realize that until I saw the panoramic picture of us 8^th grade in Mlle. Johnston’s room. She had  long hair and she definitely had a lonely and timid look on her face. Plain. Her face was weak, watery, and plain. She had very weak eyes; they looked as if they would float away if she cried too much. Her face was definitely very watery. Her life was plain, boring, and uneventful. She didn’t want to go to high school, to college, to the real world, where her beloved mother didn’t live forever. She wanted a large wedding at a beach and she wanted to live with her mother until her mother died. Once her mother died, she would follow suit. Growing up didn’t seem too swell; she didn’t want to grow up.

And then there’s the most current version of me now. She still has weak eyes, but black liquid eyeliner anchors them pretty well to her face. Once her eyes are anchored, she appears less watery. She looks more solid, more tangible as a person. She has a pretty nice smile, but not always. She looks horrible on camera, so she prefers to be on the other side of the lens. She wonders about the certainty of reality; she lives in her own world still, but at least she’s trying to step foot in the real world. She becomes an atheist. She’s tried pot. She’s masturbated and watched someone’s face as he does too. Not at the same time of course; that’s a bit too naughty. She’s gotten a man all wound up by just talking to him—not suggestively, of course. She covers herself in beautiful clothes and make-up to feel beautiful and wonders about the shallow nature of such things. They should suffice for now, but she knows that when beauty and youth desert her, she’ll have to rely on something else more solid, something she’s supposed to find in herself that she hasn’t found yet. For now, she clings on to them with her dear life. Grace and charm still elude her. She’s learned to trust and confide in others; her journal serves only to record and track now. She’s semi-secretly rebellious and clashes with her mother. She’s designed her own prom dress and plans to design her own wedding dress as well as the bridesmaids’ dresses. She’s been disappointed for the first time in her life and has to live with that disappointment for the next four years. I think she’s more open to new ideas than before. She’s been told that she’s very shallow, although she respectfully disagrees. She’s somewhat shallow; not very shallow. She deviates away from the mainstream--or so she believes--and wants a small wedding somewhere where it snows; she wants a British husband with a beautiful mother and/or sister. She's selfish and impulsive, malleable and stubborn, arrogant and insecure...all of that combined. That's the person I am right now. 

A dirty book is rarely dusty.

So...today was the last day of high school. I'm pretty okay. I don't know when it's gonna hit me, but I hope it won't hit me hard. Actually, I do when it's gonna hit me. Friday.

I need to buy waterproof make-up.

Oh, good deed of the day: I got Mlle. Jang out of taking her French finals. Yup. Well, it wasn't all me. Her French teacher didn't have the test ready for the seniors, so she asked Mlle. Jang to come back tomorrow in the morning, the same time that we were supposed to walk to Burger Barn. Well, I was like, Hell, no, that's not fair, and I want to go to Burger Barn, so I persuaded her to go talk to M. Lipman, and M. Lipman talked to her French teacher and she doesn't have to take a final for that class anymore. You're welcome.

Why is it that turning someone else on turns me on? If that makes sense. I was talking to this guy on Skype from Chatroulette a long time ago, and he wanted to video chat. Okay, sure, why not? He was shirtless and he had really, really, really nice shoulders and I have a thing for nice shoulders, but I kept it to myself. Well. We got really flirtatious, and at one point he just flat out said he wanted to remove the straps on my dress.

Well, okay. I really like this dress. It's brown with black designs. Like, really pretty and totally me. It dips pretty low in the back and has two thin straps to hold it up. Well, I didn't want too many straps going on to ruin the nice dress, so I opted for the backless and strapless stick-on bra. So, it looks really good on. No joke.

Anyways, I was like, umm, awk, let's move on, in my head, but since me and Mlle. Johnston have that plan, I've been trying to act smooth, and pretending to be smooth online is so much easier than doing it in real life, so, I was like, whatever, it's good practice, you know? So I was like, Thanks for sharing; so tell me about... Okay, that's not very smooth, but it works.

Anyways, we were about this bullshit policy where you have to go to bed shirtless. I was playing along and I was just asking what the consequences were if I were to go to bed fully dressed. Well, I'd have to pay the "ultimate price." I was like, what's the ultimate price? He wouldn't tell me unless I lower one of my straps.

Okay, whatever. I was curious, so I did. Well, tried to. My little brother was in the room. He stayed in the room for what seemed like an eternity. I did it, and that's when things got inappropriate. I won't go into details, but I didn't do anything appropriate, just for the records. He said I was seducing him. I was doing no such thing. Well, I know I said that I was trying to be smooth, but I don't think my effort was any good.

I am 95% sure that he was m-bating after that point. Yeah. That wasn't a turn on though. Actually, it kind of was, but it kind of wasn't at the same time. Like, I guess it's flattering that he thinks I'm attractive enough to be a muse, but somehow it fells like, boys are just so damn horny at that point that anyone not ugly could have worked. Like, personal but not personal at the same time.

What was the turn on was that I asked him if he could rub from his neck to his shoulder blade and down his arm because it drives me crazy when a shirtless guy with really nice shoulders do that. Eeek. Definitely a good day.

M. Dow and I haven't seriously talked since forever. We've been typing to each other on Skype, but that's not the same thing. He's completely into his girlfriend; he wants to marry her even. It's cute. It's actually ironic since he thinks marriage is pointless. It's cute how he has everything planned out.

Mlle. Jang and I are walking to Burger Barns tomorrow. Stoked.

Mme. Berman's class! Okay, so we went around telling her what we were doing this summer, where we were going in the fall, and what our life goals were. Well, it was M. Pei's turn and he said he would be working at Chippendale's (a strip club) and he'd be at the corner of [This] Street and [That] Street. Mlle. Johnston said, "That's my spot!" all jokingly to me, but she said it a tad too loud, and that caught M. Berman's attention.

She turned around and said, "I cannot believe that that came out of [Mlle. Johnston]'s mouth!" and of course, M. Pei immediately quipped, "That's not the only that that's came out of her mouth." Mlle. Johnston was laughing, but she was beet red.

Okay, so Mlle. Velasco is such a non-hater! Like, the complete opposite of me! I usually hate on most people until I get to know them. Mlle. Tran the Younger is probably one of very few exceptions. I liked her right away. I thought Mlle. Smith was a snob the first time I met her; she was just shy. I didn't really have an opinion of Mlle. Jang. Mlle. Kweon really got on my nerves cause I thought she was always staring at me in Science Honors freshman year. I thought Mlle. Johnston was a snob, too. Let's see, who else? Oh, my God. M. Tackett! That kid is the funniest person on this whole planet, but I thought he was just another ASB retard. He's not! I'm so glad we became better friends. I need to stop hating. For sure.

To the world you may be just one person, but to one person you may be the world.

So, Mlle. Johnston seemed bummed out that I couldn't make it to her last ballet recital, but she was understanding. However, she was mad at her other friends who could go but didn't go. Especially M. Kelly, who came but left after the first act.

When I saw her at nutrition, she looked like she was about to cry, so I was like, "Hey, are you okay?" She was like, "No." So I looped arms with her and we walked down the hall. She said she felt like she didn't have any friends anymore--no offense to me. None taken; I knew how she felt. I gave her a hug and suggested that we make cookies at my house after school. We always wanted to make chocolate chips cookies without the chocolate chips.

We finished dissecting the fetal pig today.

Mlle. Jang got a new camera, so she went on a picture-taking frenzy.

So, Mlle. Johnston and I went to Vons to get the stuff. We wanted whipped cream, but we didn't know where to get it, so we were looking for a Vons person to help us out. We couldn't find anyone, so I was like, "Dare me to ask some random stranger where the whipped cream is?" She was like, "Don't do it!"

So I went up to this little kid and asked. His face was like, how the hell would I know? I couldn't keep a straight face the entire time and we just busted out laughing. He looked pretty confused when we did.

We got home and realized that we had no eggs. So we ran downstairs and asked my neighbor, who I've never spoken to before; I'd only smile on the occasions that I do see her. She was like, take two eggs. And Mlle. Johnston was like, do you want us to bring back an egg when we get more? She was like, nah, it's all good.

So we ran upstairs and shifted the chocolate chips from the powder stuff. Half an hour. Then we baked it. Really great cookies! We put ice cream and whipped cream on them and I went on Skype to show Mlle. Jang to make her jealous. Then, out of habit, I video called M. Dow to show up. The first thing that bitch said, "Wow. You have a friend?" Fuck you. That's why I have this cookie and you don't. Mlle. Johnston loves him and wants to talk to him again.

That's awkward because Mlle. Jang knows about him first, but we've made plans so Mlle. Johnston will talk to him with me tomorrow. Mlle. Jang's gonna be a bit annoyed about that.

We watched Priceless and Mlle. Johnston suggested that we should do what she did, and we should try it on the ship. Seducing men...that's my forte.

Our goal is to get older (well, older than us) men to buy us drinks on the cruise since we can't buy any. Yup. That's us. Seductresses.

So...since we ate whipped cream on ice cream on a giant ass cookie, we got high off of sugar. Like, crazy high. So, we went on Chatroulette and excitedly told this guy our whole adventure. He was a good audience. He listened patiently while two girls jabbered on and on and on about not having eggs and chocolate chips. Then we gave this guy dating advice, but he got creepy, so we nexted him. It felt great being high, but the crash was horrible. We just sat there, I was trying hard not to fall asleep because Mlle. Johnston was there, and it'd be horribly rude to ask her to leave. She left at 9 and I think we both just died in bed that day.

I felt good because I made her feel better and not so alone. Plus, she 

To bring up a child in the way he should go, travel that way yourself once in a while.

My mother...Oh. My GOD.

I can't see why she doesn't accept me as a person! I'm a real life human being with my own aspirations, likes, and dreams. I'm not a piece of clay that she can imprint upon me what she wants. I'm not a clever pet for her to show off to her friends. I have thoughts and emotions too. This morning, she chewed me out for the way I do my make up. She wants me to stop doing it the way I do it. She wants me to stop dressing the way I do. I'm sorry, but I dress very conservatively. You almost never see my legs because they're always covered. Me and overexposing never go in the same sentence.

Yes, she gave me life and sustained it for 18 years, but to assume the power to dictate how I live and what I do with my life is a bit excessive. She says that I should just study from now until the day I become a doctor. Are you fucking serious? That's another ten years of my life. She's already lorded over me for 18 years, and now she wants to do it for ten more years? I don't fucking think so.

She says she'll stop when I'm married. Fuck that. I'll marry some hobo off the street just to get away from her. And divorce him, of course.

She's given me an ultimatum. Either lessen my make up, dress her way, and suppress my wills, and we'll get along, or do it my way and get the fuck out and never speak to her again.

Yup.

And then there's M. Dow's mother. Oh, my goodness. I feel so bad for him. She needs to stop dating and bring wackos into the house. M. Dow was telling me about what happened to him in elementary school and his previous stepfather. It's heart-breaking. I don't know what to say. I told Mlle. Jang snippets of it but not the whole thing because he's asked me not too. Like, he usually doesn't care, but when he does ask me to not do something, I respect his wishes and not do them.

Previously, Monsieur Foghi was talking to me via Facebook Chat. Oh, my goodness, that kid...he's so ARGGH! I don't know what is wrong with him! He doesn't bug me because I'm used to him, but if I didn't like him (platonically), I'd be incredibly annoyed. So I logged off of Facebook and talked to M. Giusti about sex and drugs. Exciting stuff.

Then Mlle. Jang and I talked about our family. WHY CAN'T THEY JUST ACCEPT US FOR WHO WE ARE?

Anyways, speaking of friends, Mlles. Jang and Smith wrote in my yearbook today. I wrote a long one for Mlle. Smith yesterday. It's basically just a summary of our senior year. I talked about meaningful things, I think. Like, I kind of poured my heart out a bit--not to be cliche. Then I wrote Mlle. Jang's. It's nice and long too, but half of it is a list of things we will do...like, getting married before 30 and having attractive and intelligent children (who we won't force into impressions of ourselves like our MOTHERS did).

Mlle. Smith wrote me a really long one too. It was very heartwarming. She too included the friend drama we had and how she was glad that I was there to listen to her problems. Then she talked of the future. Today, I straight up told her, "Hey, promise me you won't marry [M. Smith] and live here forever." She laughed but took me seriously and said, of course. Good. Now she'll definitely grow.

I think I've figured out why I can't talk to her as much. It's kind of crazy...I can't see auras, but I can sense it. Mlle. Smith has a really bright aura. Like, nothing seriously bad has happened to her. I just feel like dragging her down and dirtying her with my problems when I complain. So I try to keep my complaining to a minimum because no one likes a whiny ass.

Today started out bad (oh, God, definitely) and went up and stayed up.

But, Mlle. Pearson! Oh, my GOD! She is SO annoying! Jesus Christ. Sometimes she's funny, but she's just so crass and inappropriate.

Not gonna lie...that shirt is kind of gay.

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!)

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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