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. 

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 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beauty was my mothers law, her religion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here are some of my Breadth pieces:

It is only a step from boredom to disillusionment, which leads naturally to self-pity, which in turn ends in chaos.

The Senior BBQ was today. Mlle. Smith and I were planning to ditch afterward, but Mme. Mills caught me when I was waiting in line to receive food and told me that she'd tell me more about something in first period. I was like, I have to go somewhere with my parents. God, she got so mad. She was like, we haven't seen each other in a week; you should not have planned something today.

Well, I'm sorry, but if I truly had to go somewhere with my parents, I wouldn't have had a choice anyways. She was so pissed.

So, Mlles. Smith and Macias and I went to the beach. It was fun. Very relaxing, as it should be.

Until Mlle. Jang called and told us how pissed Mme. Mills was. Mlle. Smith then decided to donate all of her photos for this scholarship that Mme. Mills  have just to appease her, but at that point, I just felt so disappointed in Mme. Mills. Like, she's not who I think she is. Like, I don't respect her anymore.

I got my prom dress and brought it home. It looks great on. It feels great on. I'm incredibly happy. I just need to either get new earrings or find that ones I was planning on wearing originally.

So, M. Dow and I talked for two hours today. He showed me his music, which was like, incredible. Like, crazy stuff. We talked about religion (which was interesting, since he's an atheist and is totally totally totally against it). It's just crazy talking with someone that intelligent. Yes, he's a cocky bastard, I'm not going to lie, but he admits it. But, seriously, it's kind of hard not to be a cocky bastard if you were that smart. But seriously, things just work for him because he's attractive. If not, everyone would hate him. But it's socially acceptable since he's attractive. It shouldn't be that way, but it is.

Like, I'm enjoy talking to him because I can see how the other side thinks, but if he was ugly, I wouldn't have given him the time of day unless I got to know him first. I am so goddamn shallow. I hate it. But one thing I do like is how straight-forward he is; I don't need to worry about him lying to me since he won't spare my feelings.

So, more problems with foreign, Chatroulette guys. This incredibly good-looking guy from Austria thinks he's in love with me. No, that's not scientifically possible. I tried telling him, but he kept telling me he liked me. No. NO. NO. NO! I said was I tired and that I needed to go to bed. I went "invisible" and he still typed things out to me and then called me. NO. I'm very very very creep out. I hate it when people I don't like like me and keep pursuing me when I've said no. It makes me sick. I think I'm going to block him. Yup. Sorry, you're nice and cute and you seem very kind since you want to work with mentally retarded children, but you're a total creeper. Sorry.

A man's face is his autobiography. A woman's face is her work of fiction.

Curiosity will seriously kill the cat.

I was talking to this British guy (haha--of course. Who else?) who currently resides in Ireland, and he said he was called Mr. Inappropriate when he got drunk. I said that I'd like to see him drunk. Well, the whole time we were chatting, it was pretty clean and fun until he did get drunk. Oh, boy, did the conversation get interesting.

He made all kind of sexual passes at me. Of course, I could have stopped, but I was bored and he was entertaining me, so I stayed on. He told me about his brother's fiancée, who he hated. He told me of all the time he made mean remarks about ugly and/or fat girls at the bar. He asked me if his chest was hairy and showed me. I said no, cause it wasn't that hairy. Stuff like that went on. Boy, was he inappropriate.

Anyways, he got drunker, and started talking about his exes. Faye, the latest one, broke up with him and went to Australia. He was waiting for her to come back to figure things out. He showed me their pictures. Faye was pretty, but Tara was one of the most beautiful-est girl I've ever seen. She looked like a doll with dark curls.

Anyways, I'm straying off topic. It was kind of sad, cause he obviously was still in love with Faye (I'd be in love with Tara, but that's just me). Anyways, it's not my business. It's just sad to see a person so heartbroken.

I'm glad he's a hilarious drunk though. God. Drunk people are like free entertainment.

Speaking of people I've met on Chatroulette. This guy I met a few days ago. Let's call him Monsieur Dow since that's his last name. At first, he looked like a sweet and cute Christian boy. Like, a much more attractive version of Michael Cera. But once he opened his mouth to speak, it's like, "fucking this" and "fucking that". At first, I was kind of put off by that, but once I get over it, I find out that he is very deep and very, very intelligent. He has an interesting views on life and love. He's also a nymphomaniac. Lovely, isn't it? The complete opposite of me. Completely opposite of what I thought he'd be.

But we talked today, and I could tell that we were very comfortable with each other even though he was very straightforward and doesn't curb his words. Like, it just clicked. He just seems like someone who could understand and he seems to feel almost the same way. It's almost like, "Ah, there you are. I've been waiting for someone like you to complete me." Well, if he was that person, then I'm half complete. He and I would take up half, for we each would take up a quarter. Then my best female friend, who I have yet to meet, would take up another quarter. Then the love of my life would be a quarter and would complete me wholly.

Okay, so apparently, I don't pick up on flirting cues. The guy that got drunk was apparently flirting with me ever since we started talking, but I didn't find out until he got drunk and when I asked him to start flirting with me so I could get a feel of how to do it. What is up with this?

Sometimes, I wonder if I was attractive as all these guys make me out to be. I mean, are they just saying it to be nice? Or are they bored of seeing penises and other guys and just want to talk to a girl? Doesn't matter if she wasn't pretty. Especially if she wasn't pretty because she'd be more willing to take off her clothes for them. Sorry, maybe I'm unattractive, but I'm not taking my clothes off for anybody except my British husband. And my mother. She has no sense of privacy.

Got my car back!

I wonder why I like looking at pretty girls? It's weird. Like, not them for real, but I'd like to keep them close. Like a collector. Is that normal? I think it's quite weird.

School doesn't start till 11 tomorrow! Can I get another woot woot? Then me and Mlle. Smith and possibly Mlle. Velasco too are ditching 1st, 5th, and 6th. That's how to end the week.

My Prom dress is done! Picking it up tomorrow!

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.

In your life, you meet people. Some you never think about again. Some, you wonder what happened to them. There are some that you wonder if they ever think about you. And then there are some you wish you never had to think about again. But you do.

Serendipity. Do I believe in it? YES.

I've put up a post on the Chatroulette's page of Missed Connections. So, let's just see how it'll all work out. If he sees it and replies before I forget and wants to stay in touch, then it's meant to be. If not, then no big deal, cause then it's not meant to be.

I've forgotten what he looked like. I can barely make out his face, but I've started to substitute this guy's face for his instead.

I don't know why my brain does it. It's quite annoying and very, very inconvenient. Cause he doesn't look like that. NOT AT ALL. Cause I have good taste, that's why.

Speaking of Chatroulette. The guy that I talked to a while ago that I said was cute, the one with the mask. Well, he's making me a bit uncomfortable by calling me sweetie and honey...stuff like that. I know he doesn't really love me--I mean, it doesn't take a fool to figure that out. It's sweet and nice, but it's really making me uncomfortable.

I no longer feel like I play a minor role in my own life anymore. I think I finally have the role of the protagonist in my own book.

So, Chatroulette again...I met the cutest Mormon guy...Monsieur Manwaring. He's kind and polite and deep. He's still a virgin, but a completely a man, if you know what I mean. There are people who are the same age but still look and behave like boys. But he's different. He sang and played the ukulele for me; he even attempted to play Sway by Bic Runga (my favoritest song ever!). He's proud that he doesn't drink or smoke or do drugs. He travels all the time. And he volunteers. So, perfect guy to bring home, much?

He gave me his Facebook when we were talking. Thank God, because I detest asking for people's Facebooks. Or Skype. I only ask if I really really want to keep in touch. If not, then I wait for the other person to ask for mine, but I do hate going through my Skype and asking, "Who the eff is this?"

You know it's a bad day when you put your bra on backwards and it fits better.

Is it weird that I'm so affected by the guy from yesterday? I literally had to go to the bathroom to drain my tears every ten minutes. God, I think the medication I'm taking for my coughs and stuff is majorly messing up my hormones. My hormones are, no joke, so out of whack right now. I would just cry my eyes out for the stupidest reasons.

Anyways, I think I'm especially affected because of the way we talked yesterday. We weren't just typing things in. We did at first, but then we actually talked. He was shirtless and propped himself up in front of his laptop (I think), and I was sitting down, hugging in my knees, so it was awfully intimate. So, if you can imagine it, if we were in the same room, wouldn't we pass for lovers? I think so. That's probably why. There's a false sense of intimacy between us, so I'm having a hard time letting him go, especially since we never had the chance to say good bye properly after such a good and personal conversation.

I know we did agree that we should never meet again, but it's kind of sad to say stuff like that.

Today was a horrible day. I got home so late and now I have a headache. Not a good day for me.

It's really painful to say goodbye to someone that you don't want to let go, but it's even more painful to ask someone to stay if they never wanted to stay.

I've done something stupid. I've gotten emotionally attached to someone I wasn't supposed to.

So, I was on Chatroulette, and I talked to a bunch of people, but then there was one that I spent hours talking to. At first it was boring, and I only stayed on because he was kind of cute (and shirtless, but that's beside the point. I've seen cuter and hotter. But that's also beside the point). He was 23 and owned half of a music production company. We were talking about the many penises on the site, and he told me that he got flashed by the girl before me, but she was ugly, so he was turned off. I laughed, of course, and I asked him why he was there. He answered and asked me why I was there. I told him about how I wanted to meet new people and how I would feel horrible whenever I nexted an unattractive person. He accused me of looking for somebody to flirt with.

Well, I explained myself out of that one, but the topic turned to sex...because I was curious. I asked him how his first time was and all of the sudden, he turned it back to me. He found it extraordinary that I was waiting until after marriage. He said that I should masturbate (I was like, Oh, God, no). He kept asking if I was uncomfortable with the subject, I said I was, but I needed to know about this kind of stuff, and I've got no one to talk about it to, so he seemed to know very much about the subject.

I liked how he was very very comfortable with himself. And how he doesn't say anything like, "I fucked that girl" or anything like that. He either said, "had sex with" or "slept with", which in my opinion, are so much better since those terms don't degrade the girl in question.

So, we kept talking for hours, and during that time, he occasionally touched his neck and shoulder with his hand to support himself, and I find it very sexy when guys do touch their neck or shoulders, so I told him. And then he stared at me for a bit and said that I has been turning him on too with my collarbones peeking out of my shirt (see! Told you! Exposed clavicles are sexy). I noticed he did it more after I told him. Then, we talked about food, but then somehow the topic came back to me, again. He said he wanted to see more of me, but not in a way that would make me feel uncomfortable. I asked him what he would like to see. He asked what would I be comfortable showing. We settled on my stomach, and so I showed him , which was like, the weirdest thing I could have shown, but I guess he liked it. He said he was glad that I came on because I was pretty and he was just intrigued that I asked that kind of stuff and that because the girl before me completely turned him off. We were having a really good conversation. He was being crude sometimes (like, when I mention the joy of dressing up for Prom, he said that the joy was reserved for girls and "we only want to take it off you"), but it's the truth, and I just need  to know some stuff. I felt like we had a really good connection going on, but all of the sudden, his end got frozen, and I got switched to another.

Because of the nature of the things we talked about, we agreed not to exchange names because then it would become uncomfortable. So, I know nothing of him except that he was 23 and owned half of a music production company. Once our connection got severed, I felt like I'd just lost a friend and there was no way to get him back. I wonder if he felt the same, or if he just rolled over and said, "Oh, what a shame", went to bed, and thought no more about it.

We are afraid to care too much, for fear that the other person does not care at all.

The UCI day went well. It was uneventful, but it went well. I didn't meet anyone else though. Everyone else just kind of stuck to their parents.

I feel so lonely. And boring. Like I've forgotten how to have fun. When I go out--on the rare occasions that I do go out--I feel so pressured to HAVE fun that I end up feeling so forced and even more bored and boring. Like, other people just have fun all the time. Why can't I do it too? I'm not spontaneous, maybe that's why. And not confident. I wonder if I am insecure because I'm so judgmental and critical of others.

People think I'm nice, and I appear to be nice, but I actually think really mean things. Like, this girl in my class, Mlle. Murphy, would be so sad if she knew all of the things I think about her. Why is she doing that? Why can't she just talk normally like everybody else? She's so weird. Why is she wearing that kind of make up to school? Does she know that that shirt and those jeans highlight her muffin top? Why is she talking to me now? God, I wish she would shut up and let me do my work. Maybe if I answer in monosyllabic answers, she'll go away. God, why is she still talking to me? Stop it. Stop waddling toward me. Leave me alone, God dang it. Why is she still trying to talk to me? Can she see I'm talking to [Mlle. Jang] and we're obviously try to ignore her. Good she's going away. Dang it, she's coming back again. That kind of mean things.

And then I got lonely and went to Chatroulette for the first time, on Monday. I only got next-ed whenever there were girls, which was kind of a flattering. Most the guys are like, "you're beautiful" or "you're lovely" or stuff like that. Well, on the first night, I was, like, really happy because those people thought I was attractive. Oh, and I only got flashed once.

Then the next day, I went on again (is it pathetic that I get ego boosts from strangers like this?). This time, I got flashed, like more than ten times. And the guys almost always asked me to strip for them. And the little kids? "Let's see your tits." Sure, show me yours, I'll show you mine. They next-ed me, but some of the other guys weren't too smart. They showed me (very nice, of course. God, I feel like such a pervert right now) and I clicked next after getting a nice show. Oops! I got several guys who serenaded to me. That was quite nice. And I would talk to British guys all day long because I will never get over their adorable accent. One told me I was sexy in his adorable accent. God, my smile is so big right now, you have no idea. Anyways, then I kind of reached the conclusion that people only tell me I'm beautiful or pretty or sexy or lovely just to see more of me, and people will continue to do that to try and get an easy lay. It's just really sad. And then this naked girl (I only stayed because I was curious about her gender. I couldn't tell if she was a dude or a girl. I swear) asked me if I wanted to see her "vjj". No, I don't want to see your Goddamn "vjj". Get of the internet, sicko. And, yeah, I finally know what a penis looks like. It's ugly. I was hoping that the ugly one was just an exception, but it's actually a rule. I don't know if I want to have that thing inside me. What will my husband think if I say I don't want to look when we have sex. That shit thing is nasty.

And I know it's kind of conceited--and unjustly so--but I can't help but feel that I will never know if I'm ugly or plain or pretty or beautiful for real. Somebody told me that boys don't talk to pretty girls because they're intimidated, so that's why none of them talk to me. That's such BS. That's what I'm talking about. If somebody tells me I'm pretty, I just dismiss it because I just assume that they're trying to be nice and have nothing else to say. So, will I ever know? And then when someone does talk to me, I just assume they're talking to me because a pretty girl would be more likely to reject them, and that I am the next best thing and that's why they're talking to me. I don't know. I wish I could just know if I was pretty or not. No, actually, I don't want to know because if I was ugly, then I would have to deal with that. I don't want to know. I don't want to know. I don't want to know.

And then today, I was talking to this really cute college guy, and his friends flashed their abs at me. Then they asked me to strip. I said the same thing I told the other people. You do it first and I'll follow. They next-ed me. I got bored, and started nexting a bunch of people. I feel so bad when I next an ugly person, though, because it's like I'm rejecting them because of their appearance, which is exactly what I'm doing, but it just feels really bad. Anyways, I was talking to this really cute guy from Holland with the coolest painting of New York behind him. So I talked to him and we were having a really good conversation when he next-ed me! I was like, what? And then he Facebook-ed (he gave me his, and I added him) and apologized for the connection loss. And then I kept nexting random people.

And then this guy with a mask was on. I was kind of laughing from something before and I covered the bottom portion of my face and my forehead so it would look like his mask. And then we started talking. He told me I was beautiful (at this point, I just waiting for him to say, "I want to see more of you" or something like that.) I told him that he looked like he would be cute underneath the mask. We talked for a bit more and he took of his mask. I was right (like I usually am, of course--I wish). He was really cute. Like a model. Except masculine looking. We talked for about an hour without him asking me to take off anything once. I kind of liked that. And then we just talked and me just smiling stupidly the whole time (I wish I was more graceful and charming). He smiled really nice. Close-lipped, just a hint of happiness. I talked about my future plan, and he said that he wanted to marry me if I was without prospect when the deadline approached (I HAVE to get married before I turn 30 and have a baby before I turn 31). He was so cute and charming and sweet and he knew all the right things to say and it was approaching 5 o'clock (when I said I was going to stop because I have a math test tomorrow and an essay to finish), and I wanted to ask for his Facebook or Skype or anything just so we could stay in contact, but I didn't want to do the asking myself because I kind of felt like I was just another one he was (possibly, but hopefully not) stringing along. I was so happy when he asked for my Facebook instead. Me, and he, and the Holland guy, and the two Italian kids are friends now on Facebook. God, those kids were hilarious. They told me they were 18 (and they looked 18) and asked me to add them. I did, and they were not 18. They were 17. They apologized profusely. And the best thing about it all was that they used a translator to talk to me because their English wasn't good enough. It was just all really fun.

Mlle. Jang thinks I am in love with M. Ward. Are you kidding me? I've liked him when we were in 8th grade, but now we're older, you think I'm going to make the same mistake twice? Not that there's anything wrong with him, it's just, yeah, he's cute and attractive and has a nice personality, he's not my type. I bet it's because I asked him why he didn't have a girlfriend when he was so cute and had a nice personality. I bet that's why. So much for the female intuition.

I wonder if I'm beginning to like this guy. I wonder if that's possible. It shouldn't be possible because no chemicals, no hormones, no pheromones were exchanged when we talked. It was over the Internet. It's just not possible for me to fall in love with him. Ever. Because it's just impossible. There's no way. If I, in the future, ever to think that I am in love him, then let me read this blog and be reminded that if I were to fall in love with him, then I would be sadly mistaken and delusional. The person that I were to fall in love with would not be him, but with the boy that my mind had created and projected desirable qualities into and the guy with the mask had added on to the imaginary boy and made him a bit more real by merely existing. I would only be in love with my own imagined boy and not the real one. I'm still logical now. Please let my brain continue to be in control when my heart wants a turn.