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.

Because of you... I laugh a little harder, cry a little less, and smile a little more.

Keep in touch? What bullshit. Mlle. Smith hasn’t called me once save for the one occasion regarding the Hurricane Harbor trip. We talked for less than a minute because our call got dropped. I called her back multiple time during various time that evening in various location, but once I got home, she’s Facebook messaged me and said, “Sorry. I was at [M. Smith]’s.” And that’s the end of that.

Before, when we were incredibly bored during the school year, I thought it was because I was boring; but when I hang out with Mlle. Jang or Mlle. Johnston, we have tons of fun. So I suspected her of being the killjoy, but I remembered how she has fun with her other friends too. Maybe it’s just the two of us that aren’t compatible.

When Mlle. Velasco and Mlle. Yasakova left, Mlle. Smith and I clung onto each other for dear life. I think we both forced ourselves to enjoy the other’s company and we both were aware of it. I think that’s what happened. We forced ourselves because we ought to stay together to preserve the memories of our little group. But I’m glad that we did because if we didn’t, I’d have to sleep in my car every lunch, something I occasionally did when I felt tired or anti-social.

So, I got home and was talking to M. Foghi on Skype when my mother sat next to me and went on and on about how I ought to live my life: no parties, no dating, no friends. She said she wanted me to be like a horse with the side blinds because it wouldn’t get distracted by the things around it so it’d go down the only path that it saw and would get to the finish line faster. What’s the finish line? Death. I don’t want to live my life like that. A life devoid of emotions, other people, joy, and art truly is a pitiful existence; it’s worse than being dead.

But, the whole time while she lectured, I was fuming inside. Monsieur Foghi was still on camera, witnessing my facial expressions, but I had it muted. I signed out of Skype after awhile to avoid M. Foghi further witnessing and my mother noticing that I was talking to a boy. She made a correlation between low grades and relationship; there are no such correlations. It all depends on the person in question. How ridiculous.

But I was pissed. I signed on Skype again when she left and M. Foghi asked if she was off my ass. Monsieur Dow was online so I was like, “Oh my God, I’m incredibly pissed. Can I tell you about it?” He was like, “Sure. I’m all ears.” So I told him everything.

Oh my God, I miss video chatting with him so much. He’s such a great listener and his responses are appropriate. He tells me to take emotions out of the equation. I don’t know if I can do that, but that is very good advice. At one point, he says he misses talking to me too and that he wants to keep track of me. It’s cute.

After I’m done talking about my mother, my mood goes from a -8.5 to a +7 on the happiness scale. I’m happy, so I tell him about M. Patterson. He agrees that it’s harmless fun but it’s not going anywhere. He says I should flirt with someone whom I’m interested in real life. But, at one point, he says that whatever I do, “no boobies, no flashing, nothing that he can take pictures of.”

Um…why can’t you live near me so I can have a proper best guy friend?

It can be a trap of the photographer to think that his or her best pictures were the ones that were hardest to get.

I think the greatest compliment someone can give me as a photographer is to display the pictures I've taken of them or set my pictures as their default. Sure, I look to take good, candid pictures of my friends, but I personally think the best ones have a very voyeuristic feel.

Or something like these:

The worst thing about being a photographer is that people suddenly forget you're part of the fun too. You almost never see or remember pictures of the photographers themselves. When I go places, there's definitely more pictures of other people and there are pictures of me. If there are some of me at all, then, they'll either be taken Myspace-style or via a mirror or by someone clicking the shutter without aiming. Those definitely aren't very good pictures.

Next time I take pictures at events, I'll make sure to capture the other photographers as well.

I think I'd to date a photographer once in my life time. I've always wanted to take candid/Polaroid-esque pictures of a man in bed in the morning. It's awfully intimate and very voyeuristic. But I won't be in bed with a man anytime soon.

I Stumble-Upon-ed this photographer who did just that, but I can't find her right now. Boo.

My family is incredibly nosy and meddlesome. My mother took one glance at my draft which mentioned the word "boyfriend" and assumed that I wanted a boyfriend just because Mlle. Smith and Mlle. Velasco both have one. Um...I am not going to jump off a bridge just because everyone else is. How stupid.

I wish my mother would butt out of my life. She thinks whatever she wants to think and bends facts to fit her erroneous assumptions. Then she preaches about whatever the hell she wants and I'd be spacing out and thinking about other things like, oh, I don't know, moving out.

Anyways, there's M. Monge. I've met him on Monday, I think, and we've been talking almost every morning. He's fun. He lives in San Francisco and has his own room in an apartment he shares with our other guys. He's very flirty. Very, very, very flirty.

I kind of want to have another day to myself where I can wander around in my underwear. No, let's make it just my birthday suit this time. I don't know. I'm a bit uncomfortable wandering around naked, but this can help with that.

So, I need to fake being sick. I've bought this huge book called "The American Medical Association Family Medical Guide" from the hospital's charity book drive for a buck and it includes all kinds of sickness. I'll just pick one that's easy to feign and plant all the symptoms there.

Men get laid, but women get screwed.

Yesterday, I got home at two-ish in the morning and was dead tired and sleepy until I got into bed, where I texted/Skype M. Foghi until about five, when we both feel asleep. Monsieur Foghi is an acquaintance from school since freshman year. That kid has an unnatural obsession with his goddamn penis. Anyways, somehow the conversation turns to why I don't and have never had a boyfriend. He says it's because I look high maintenance because I wear nice clothes, but once you get to know me, you realize that I'm not. And then later, he says I look like the type of girl that smokes cigars at a swanky but dark bar, waiting for a man to approach her. Wow, I really like the sound of that. I sound so mysterious...like a femme fatale.

Or like Sharon Stone from Basic Instinct. That interrogation scene is mad hot, not gonna lie.

Anyways, then I got up at nine and had crazy cramps. Well, which was perfect since I was supposed to go to Hurricane Harbor that day with the girls, but things came up and then now this, so it ended up being only Mlles. Jang and Tran the Elder that went.

So, I had the apartment to myself for the first time in a while. What's a better way to appreciate my solitude than to lounge around in just my underwear? It felt very liberating, like the whole place was mine and mine alone just because I was so exposed. Maybe that's why my bathroom is my favorite place in the whole house.

Then, at 8ish, Mlle. M phoned and I asked her to come over since I know how she feels alone right now. We were on Chatroulette for a bit and then we went to Trader Joe's to look for this guy who sold weed. I wasn't buy shit; I'm saving up for my summer wardrobe. He wasn't there so we drove back. On the way back, I found out that Mlle. M currently had a fuck buddy and she was in love with him and he wasn't in love with her. Then we went on Chatroulette some more (till one in the morning, actually), and I found out a fuck load of information about Mlle. M that I didn't need to know...I'd rather not know. I found out because we played "Never Have I Ever" with five fingers with these two boys from Florida. I haven't done jack shit, so it's pretty much a given that I won that game. But Mlle. M was the first one to get eliminated since she's done anal, given a blow job in a vehicle, slept with more than two people but less than five, hooked up in a movie theatre, and gone further than making out. The craziest thing I've ever done was making out with a dog, and I wasn't even conscious or consensual. But back to Mlle. M...learning all that about her just disturbs me. I'm still her friend and stuff, but...I don't know.

As you can probably already tell, I am a very easily disturbed person.

Things like this threatens my little bubble of how life and the world ought to be. Suddenly everything seems cold and bleak. The world of TED videos, intellectual enlightenment, and romance disappears. In its place is a world where humans behave at the basest and crudest level, a world where morons get paid more than intellectuals for being morons, where things like fuck buddies and one-night stands exist and replace the notion that sex is the highest form of intimacy, where everyone is so obsessed with pleasure and taking it or his/herself regardless of the detrimental effect that has on society. I don't like this world, but that's what it is. Escaping it just means I'm escaping reality...going crazy.

I seriously don't know what to think. I mean, humans are technically animals too, but it takes a collective effort to keep socity from unraveling. Here I am preoccupied with the preservation of society, but what is it anyways? Doesn't being a part of society mean giving away my sense of self and become a mindless robot? See, if it comes to that then it's really pointless for me to keep on living and keep on wondering and keep on getting confused. Let's be real. I'm horribly average and there will definitely be tons of others to replace me. I don't know. I'm not contemplating suicide. It's just my train of thought.

But because of the things that Mlle. M has revealed, I don't think I want to lose my V card anytime soon. I don't want to lose it while I'm still a "teenager"; I don't want to be part of the statistics. Twenty seems a bit too young still. Twenty one is iffy since alcohol adds another variable to the equation. Alright, so twenty two it is. I will abstain from engaging in sexual activities until then. And under absolutely no condition will I ever engage in a no-string-attach relationship. That's a promise.

Well, masturbation doesn't count, of course. That shit helps with my insomnia.

So, the other day, I sent M. Patterson a message that read, "I like waking up to you," and a smiley face. Short and sweet. He wasn't online at that time and we wasn't online for days, and Skype sends offline messages whenever we're both online. So, this morning, a few minutes before I woke up, he messaged me back. Was I happy? Very.


We talked while I got ready for work. We both really wanted to, you know, actually talk, but that was out of the question since I was nowhere near ready at late in the morning (it was about half past eight). And my mic's recently started to work again, so it'd be a much better conversation. His schedule is so irregular since he freelances, and mine is pretty regular but I get no privacy at all in the house.

This is a non-sequitur, but I hate it when people know on the bathroom door when it's clearly occupied. I'd just take twice as long on purpose just to piss them off.

But, you know, if I'm this happy with someone I'm mildly interested in, how happy will I be with someone whom I actually love and who loves me? Very,very, very happy.

When you finally go back to your old hometown, you find it wasn't the old home you missed but your childhood.

I've forgotten the joy of driving your own car with the windows down and the music blasting. One of the best feelings in the whole wide world. It's kind of like dancing, actually. I remember distinctly this one scene at Prom where everyone started jumping up and down in unison to the beat. The strobe light was going and all of the sudden, I was lost and was part of the crowd. And I didn't mind it. It felt good to be part of a crowd to lose myself for a bit. I wonder why that is.

So, I've found out recently that one of my cousins has recently lost her virginity. It disturbs me for a bit. 

Well, there's always four of us that have always been together. Over time, Mlle. Truong and Mlle. La grew closer together while my sister and I remained apart. Still, there were always four of us. Like, it's not even an option for one of us to get married and not have the other three be a part of the bridal party. It's just how it is. There's Mlle. Truong and I--we're the same age. Next is Mlle. La, who is a year younger but very mature. Then my sister, who's the complete opposite of everybody. Sure, there are four of us, but sometimes I think it's more like three of us adults and then a little kid. Now that one of them has lost her virginity, I feel so compelled to grow up too. The only reason why the other hasn't lost hers is because her boyfriend isn't interested in that at the moment.

Maybe the reason why I'm disturbed is because someone who grew up with me and is about my age has gotten so intimate with another person already while I have absolutely no experience at all. Plus, the only reason why I found out was because I found the Plan B thing on the bed, hidden under a mess of blankets. I was like, "Hey, [name], are you still a virgin?" Of course not. What a stupid question. She didn't answer, but she smiled. I was like, "You guys didn't use protections?" and she said, "We did, but it ripped." Then after a little bit, she started telling me more and more about it and about her boyfriend. He bought the Plan B thing. I didn't know it was that expensive. It is. Sixty bucks for one pill. But sixty bucks for assurance is a pretty good price.

Then me and that cousin hung out a lot all day. I met her boyfriend, who seems really nice, but she keeps him a secret from everyone in the family except for the few of us since he's black and the family is full of racists. We just talked about growing up and stuff, and I told her about smoking weed. She and the other cousin have always been more on the wild side, and me and my sister on the more conservative side.

Her graduation was boring, like all graduations, but I had this dress on and it was amazing! Everyone was complimenting me on it. And I was considering giving it away since it didn't fit right, but with a few adjustments, it fits me very well now...if I don't gorge on food since it's very form fitting.

I actually talked to M. Dow for a long time a few days ago. I hope he's okay, but I won't find out until Wednesday night.

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.