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

Best day of the whole year today, I think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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:

Many a young lady does not realize just how strong her love for a young man is until he fails to pass the approval test with her parents.

I had the most enjoyable dream last night. So...apparently, I made plans with Mlle. Connelly (at least I think it was her) to have a photo shoot after school. Everything was all well and good until M. Lythgoe needed me to do him a favor. I couldn't remember what it was, but I remember Mlle. Connelly (who knows about my little thing with M. Lythgoe) urging me to forget the shoot and just go with M. Lythgoe. So I did. Then I remember a string of back-and-forth messages between him and I, and soon it was obvious that he was very enamoured with me. Then he invited me--last minute--to attend his birthday celebration which includes lunch at In-and-Out and then spending the next day at Disneyland. I was reluctant to go because I didn't really know the other people going well (when I woke up, I realized that the names of the people he listed were the Sims living in my neighborhood! Imagine that!), but he insisted that I go. I got caught up in something and couldn't make it to the lunch. He was disappointed but told me to meet him at his house at midnight since his parents were taking the load of us to Disneyland. Well, I woke up and showered, only to be told that it was already 1:47 AM. So, I phoned him and said I wouldn't be making it. He told me that it was alright and that he was waiting for me anyways. Then I realized that I didn't know where his house was. Then I woke up.

Sure, it's not that exciting, but being in a dream where I am deeply loved and cherished makes it hard for me to wake up in the morning, especially when I have to wake up at five to finish my homework. I love those dreams. I remember when I was enamoured with Ben Barnes after watching the second Narnia movie.

God, we were in serious love. Compared to my previous love dreams, this is is barely anything. The other ones make me feel empty afterward. Like the one with Ben Barnes, I felt like I lost something for about three days.

But the ironic thing about this dream is that today is the day that M. Lythgoe is asking Mlle. Pillado.

Okay, so possible explanations:

• Mlle. Connelly and Mlle. Karch and I have agreed to go running with each other at least once a week to get ready for prom. I seriously need to tone my legs. So, all that planning with Mlle. Karch the night before must have gotten me to this part of the dream.
• And then the portrait photo shoot is pretty explanatory.
• M. Lythgoe just seems to occupy my mind much more often now that I know he's going with someone else. Asshole.
• His friends (my Sims) are the result of playing the Sims 3 the night before.
• I don't know the part about In-and-Out, but I do know that the lunch thing is from forever forgetting to get my ID card stamped for the off-campus lunch pass thing.
• And Disneyland is because I've never been there and that Grad Night this year will be at Six Flags instead of Disneyland.

Yup. That's about it, I think, for the dream.

Today, I went jogging around the neighborhood. I jogged for three minutes and ran out of breathe. It felt like my throat was infected and on fire. But I kept jogging down the huge hill, and then I walked it back up. My upper thighs hurt when I move now. I'm kind of glad that I went kind of late because, even though there were cars, nobody honked at me today. I don't know why is it that guys honk when they see girls walking. This car, this one time, honked and then the guy from the passenger seat stuck his head out the windows and stared at me until the car disappeared. Um, WTF? Like, how do you expect us to respond when you honk? Wave? I don't think so.

I finished my first gouache painting today. I must admit that even though I do like it, I also find it less satisfactory that what I imagined the effect would be. I think it is because I don't have enough white space so it looks extremely mediocre.

My mother is so ridiculous. She wants to bring this country girl from Vietnam over to match-make her with my eldest cousin, who was born and raised here. Seriously? They'll have nothing in common! It's a match made in hell. Then she wants my brother--who is currently 12--to do the same! What the eff? NO. By that time, I'll be an adult and I'll be on his side, telling her how ridiculous she is. She always says white girls spend their husbands' money, black girls have ugly babies, Mexican girls have too many fat babies, and Filipino girls are lazy and ugly, and that only true Vietnamese girls are the best because they take care of their families. She forgets about their other good traits too: possessiveness, gossipy, nosy, and unreasonable. My brother and I will marry the people who will make us most happy, not the people who'll make her most happy. Like, she's so good at choosing potential spouse. The last thing I want is for my marriage to resemble my parents' in any way. Their marriage is ridiculous. Mine will never ever ever ever be like them. If it does turn out that way, I'd rather file for a divorce that have my daughter (or twin daughters) raised in such an abnormal and unhappy household.

I'm moving as far away as possible so she'll no longer have any say in my life.

Oh, yes, before I forget...the Calculus test that I felt good going into but thought I failed..that test, well, I got a D on it without the curve, but with the curve, I got a B!

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!

Do not dwell in the past; do not dream of the future; concentrate the mind on the present moment.

Today was an amazing day! Us AP Art and Art History kids went roaming in Old Town Pasadena for the whole day and then stopped at the Norton Simon Museum to finish up. Before that, we went to Dick Blick, the most amazing art store EVER! The Art History kids were like, "Okay, whatever. It's just a huge art store", but the rest of us went crazy. I picked up a set of gouache instead of watercolour, a palette to put the gouache in, and a set of graphite pencils that go all the way up to 9B. 9B! I love doing dark lines! Mlle. Jang and Smith did almost the same thing, except Mlle. Smith bought Prismacolor color pencils because color pencils is totally her medium. Mlle. Jang is pretty versatile, and I don't know what she bought.

We had a blast chilling and eating before noon, when we were supposed to be at the museum. Anyways, since Mlle. Schneider and I are vegetarian, our group (Mlle. Smith, Jang, Schneider, Hai, Choi, and Murphy and M. Ward and Purwadi) had to find a restaurant that would accommodate that special needs. While looking for the restaurant, Mlle. Smith and I decided to split and go to H&M instead because I've never been there. We looked around, and I saw a bunch of bags that I would love to have, but since I already blew, I don't know, $45 at Dick Blick, I couldn't afford to drop another huge sum of money just because. So, Mlle. Smith and I each got a really cute dress and went to the dressing room to try it on and took pictures. We looked cute, if I do say so myself.

Then we got a call from Mlle. Schneider saying that they'd be eating at Johnny Rocket and I told them we would meet them there. We went to a frozen yogurt store and then to Johnny Rocket before heading back to the museum.

At the museum, our group got cut up again with only me, Mlle. Smith, Jang, and Schneider. We had to complete this scavenger hunt thing. It was fun, but when we were done, Mlle. Smith and I went out to the garden to take more pictures. We had a fun time.

It got so hot during the day in Pasadena, and I was wearing a black scoop-neck thermal with black tights under a white dress. Yeah, I looked nice (if I do say so myself), but not weather-appropriate. But as soon as the bus started, the breeze and wind came in and Jesus Christ, it took forever for me to de-tangle my hair after an hour of about 70 mph wind.

Then, I got home and worked on Mlle. Coleman's dress. Here it is.

There's three versions because she likes blue and green, but I detest the color green and don't really care for blue. The red one is personally my favorite, but this isn't my prom dress. So I drew up three for her to see her options.

And then I found out that M. Smith will ask Mlle. Smith (haha) to the Prom THIS WEEK! And I'm probably the first to know about it! I was so excited, I called Mlle. Jang to tell her. Mlle. Jang is very excited too. So now our bus has ten people. We have room for 22. So, that's, like, not even half yet. I am awfully fond of Mlle. Jang and wish she could come with us, but she is committed somewhere else.

I don't think anyone will ask me. I don't have any close guy friends. I kind of want M. Lythgoe to ask me, but I seriously doubt it. His ego is too big to risk a rejection. Plus, even if he does, transportation complications will arise.

I know I've been all "I can't wait to get out of her/this year to be over", but I think I will seriously miss it once it is over. I'll miss the people that I've spent years with, the people who love me and whom I love. Time has never been my friend, and it probably will never be my friend.

The most terrible poverty is loneliness, and the feeling of being unloved.

I realized today how lonely my life is. I have family who care for me, but they don't really understand me. I have friends to hang out with, but sometimes I just feel like there's wave after wave of people who just don't understand. Once I realize that how things are going to be until July or August, the most forlorn feeling came over me. It's suffocating, like someone's taken a hold of my windpipe and is slowly squeezing it shut.

I don't know if it's me. Like, things would have been different if I had shared my thoughts and feelings a little bit more, but there's always this fear of being bothersome and annoying.  I mean, sometimes my thoughts are very petty and malicious, and I sure as hell don't want to show that side the world. Like, with Mlle. Yasakova, I've finally figured out why she made me feel sick yesterday: all she does is complain. I don't want to be the kind of person that weights others down with my negative thoughts. Am I ever going to meet someone who will know and accept me in my entirety? Am I going to meet someone and accept that person in his/her entirety? In this world of billions of people, how am I going to meet the man who's supposed to be my soul mate before the age of thirty? How will I know if he's The One? What if I'm not The One for him? What then? I won't settle for second best, so the most likely scenario is that I'll live alone for the rest of my life. I just want someone who knows and understands me, someone who knows where I'd be if I ran away, someone who just knows and remembers things about me because he cares and pays attention.

But where am I going to find someone like that in this day and age--the era of one-night stands?

Anyways, today, after realizing that, I kind of went through the motion of being there without actually being there. When it was time to go to the Renaissance Fair, I considered just going to the library and go on StumbleUpon because I just didn't feel like being with other people, but I made myself go to the fair. I walked with Mlle. Johnston, but we split up when we found our prospective groups. However, I was left to stand alone in line when Mlle. Smith and Yasakova went in ahead because they have already gotten their tickets (Mlle. Velasco couldn't go because she's gotten a C in Calculus last semester.) I got my tickets and decided not to call and meet up with them inside like planned. I hate being a tag-along; I'd prefer my pride to stay in tact, thank you very much.

As I entered, I saw that the gym was filled with people, and as they walked past me, I just wondered how, among so many people, I couldn't manage to find anyone like-minded. I barely got to past the door when Mme. Mills asked me to fill in for one of the face painting girls who couldn't show up. With nothing to do, I accepted even though I had strongly opposed before. It made time go faster. 

Anyways, Mlle. Smith and Yasakova came to the face painting table to hangout with me, but the music was too loud, I was with other people, and so they were just talking to each other the whole time. Time passed and Mlle. Yasakova left to who knows where. I didn't ask because I didn't realize that I didn't know where she was headed until now. 

Mlle. Smith then asked why I didn't meet up with them. I told her why. Then she told me she wished I had been there because all Mlle. Yasakova did was complain about everything, though I don't really know how my presence would make it any better. She started to complain about Mlle. Velasco and Yasakova, but Mlle. Ocampo was there, so I told her to save it for later since Mlle. Ocampo is a sneaky little rat who would purposely try to break our group up just to spite me. We had a nice time face painting after that. Mlle. Lee painted the corner of my eye a really nice design, but she did it in red, which made it look like I broke out in hives and boils from afar--something I didn't realize until after school had ended (after a presentation in English). I gave Mlle. Smith a really nice blue design that the other girls who were there wanted the exact same one, but I gave them all different ones. 

After that, I gave a presentation in English. Mme. Berman said she really liked my review on the movie Becket and would consider giving me seventy points out of fifty, which is so good since I just failed my math test earlier in the day. I was really proud of myself because I did a really nice job reading out loud--something I totally suck at because I ready a lot faster with my eyes than with my lips, so by the time I'm done pronouncing a word, my eyes are already on the next line, which makes it so hard and confusing for me to read. This time, I practiced for half an hour the night before and read fluently and clearly the day of. Yay!

In painting, us AP kids went in the gallery room and had a lovely time with the leftover hennas and face paints. Some of the regular Painting kids joined us even though they weren't supposed to--Mme. Mills would totally freak out if she knew they weren't doing their work. All and all, it was a nice ending to a crappy start.

I've been working on watercolor lately and I really enjoy it until today. A few days ago, I worked on the upper portion of Mlle. Smith's face (her eyes and nose) and did that in crimson and yellow ochre. The result was amazing (if I do say so myself), but not I can't help but look at other colors and compare it to those ones. Nothing could top it. Nothing could measure up to the loveliness of the combination, so now I'm stuck doing the same colors (crimson and yellow ochre) over and over again. I'm going to try and working in shades of grey with crimson tomorrow to see how it goes. Red is not my favorite color, but it is my favorite color to accent with. And the only colors that look good with red are black and yellow ochre. I do hope that the grey idea will work out.

Yesterday, I started this workout thing that was supposed to tone my butt. I did that since I overstretched the other day, which made my thighs unstretchable yesterday. Well, not my butt is off-limit too because it is so sore from the workout. I didn't even know I could be sore in those places. Tough.

A break up is like a broken mirror. It is better to leave it broken than hurt yourself to fix it.

I can finally touch my left toes with my right hand while stretching! First. Time. Ever. I'm so excited; I just never thought I could do it, but look at me and my toes now.

I've been working on this project for a few weeks now, and this is--to date--my best version. It is a watercolor rendition of one of the photos I've taken of Mlle. Velasco.

Maybe I'm a bit jealous and hostile, but I just feel like Mlle. Yasakova gets in the ways of things. She never hangs out with us anymore, but when she does, she only talks to Mlle. Velasco. And if Mlle. Velasco isn't there, she talks to Mlle. Smith. And if they're not there, she doesn't even bother to come. At first, I thought it was me, so I tried talking to her, and at first we were talking, but when Mlle. Velasco appeared, the conversation became more between her and Mlle. Velasco while it was supposed to be about me and Mlle. Yasakova. After that, the only conversations I am will to have with her are polite pleasantries.

I honestly cannot wait to get out of here and meet new people. I feel so boring and bored here.

On a brighter note, Mlle. Johnston's coming over to take pictures. I've photographed her informally before, and she looks good, both naturally and made up, but I want her made up this Wednesday with smokey black eyes and red, red lips. Something like this.

Hopefully, this one won't end up like what happened with Mlle. Smith. I'll be on a field trip that day, so I'll call her during lunch to remind her.

Your imagination is your preview of life's coming attraction

The other day I had a dream about going off to college. It was my first day there. Since everyone was excited to make friends, people would go up to each other and introduce themselves. I introduced myself as Tu Tram, the name I want to by in college. I was giddy throughout the whole dream up to the point where I dumped my fiance (please let this fiance-dumping thing not be a sign in my future or a recurring motif in my dreams), but that is a whole different story. Once I was awake, I could still feel the giddiness.

I just can't wait to get out of here. I want to go somewhere new, where people will meet me as I am now, not me as I was five years ago; somewhere that will inspire me to take my creativity to the next level; somewhere far, far away from here.

My parents will be leaving the country for Vietnam in a month for three weeks, meaning I'll have complete freedom for three weeks! Whoot whoot. I'm planning to visit Mlle. Johnston's dance studio and take pictures of the ballerinas as they dance and go to the mall afterwards with Mlle. Smith to visit H&M and get my black coat and leather jacket. Sounds fun and normal, ya?

My thing for taking portraits has increased exponentially these past few days. I really want to ask my female friends to model for me, starting with Mlle. Smith. She has an ordinarily pleasant face. I know for a fact that Mlle. Velasco photographs well--the highs and lows of her face balance out 2-D, I think. I would love to capture Mlle. Johnston's serious and graceful ballerina-ness. I don't know how Mlle. Jang will look behind the lens--I would sure love to find out, for she is so very charming. So is Mlle. Tran (the older). Mlle. Tran (the younger) is also very charming. I think she photographs nicely as well. Oh! Mlle. Kaila has the face that I want to photograph the most. It is very elegant and reminds me of a Spanish princess back during the Tudors' dynasty. I would love to photograph her. And little Mlle. Brinser too. But if I photographed Mlle. Brinser, I would have to photograph Mlle. Velasco's little sister who is just a--I love her and all, but...--little pest. She wouldn't make a good model; she moves around way too much. I can't work with someone who can't and won't take directions. Mlle. Smith's sister looks somewhat like her. I like how she looks very angelic. I think she would look very nice 2-D, but it would messed up to ask all of the freshmen and leave Mlle. Velasco's little sister out. So, the little ones are out.

My inspiration for the portraits:

It's alright letting yourself go as long as you can get yourself back.

I've been working on my watercolor painting skill for the past two days. Okay, I knew that watercolor was hard and arbitrary, but I never imagined it to be so vexing and time-consuming. I think my problem with it is the lack of control I have to embrace to work it. With acrylic, I favor a brush with very short bristles to have the greatest control. With watercolor, I had to use a flat brush to move the water gracefully in exchange for control. I just find it hard to let go sometimes. So, for two days, this is what I have to show for it.

I used the pictures I took of Mlle. Johnston at her Nutcracker recital this past Christmas as reference.

Sometimes I think if there was a third sex, men wouldn't get so much as a glance from me

I think I may be on the verge of losing my mind. I found out this morning that I’d left my car keys in the cognition overnight. Anyone could have just opened the door and drove off with my car. Can you imagine that kind of trouble I would be in? My parents would make me take back all of my applications and enroll me in a nearby community college. On a side note, you have to admit my karma has been excellent the day I started my vegetarian diet.

Today was such a busy day. I found out that I don’t have enough Breadth pieces for that AP Art Studio Portfolio. For some reason, my charcoal drawing of a glass jar on red velour paper that I am really proud of is gone. It is not in my cubicle and not in my portfolio holder thingy. It’s gone. I only have five Breadth pieces right now: photography, acrylic, mixed media, pastel, and pen and ink. I’ll have to do a piece for water color (which I hear is a pain in the derriere), graphite (I am so bad with values for graphite), collage (something I can do on the computer—YES!), color pencils (at least it’s Prismacolor), and marker and water (my favorite medium). The only problem with marker and water is that I am not very good at it. I seem to have developed a particular pleasure in doing portraits lately. I don’t know why because I usually don’t take pictures of faces. It’s something exciting and I’ll ask my female friends to model for me.

I find the male facial and physical feature inferior to their female counterparts. Don’t get me wrong—I prefer men in sexual context, but I prefer women artistically. I just feel like the female forms draw me in and intrigue me more.

I might do a water color of the picture of the cupcakes Mlle. Smith and Velasco made for my birthday.

I've spent this whole afternoon working on scholarship applications that I've discovered yesterday and are due tomorrow! Can you believe it? Tomorrow! I have three major tests tomorrow too. Isn't that just lovely. I'm not complaining. Mlle. Valdez is in the same situation plus a job and minus the scholarship part, and her birthday's tomorrow. Three tests--What a lovely birthday present.

Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination

So...I was totally brain-blocked for the "Beggar Maid" dress, so I set that one aside and worked on J.M.W. Turner's "The Slave Ship" and Gertrude Kasebier's "Blessed Art Thou Amongst Women" while my brother got his haircut.

Surprisingly, I had an easier time working on these dresses than the "Beggar Maid" dress.
I've already designed my prom dress, but I've having major second thoughts, as I did with the previous prom dress candidate. They are all very lovely, but I want to design one that when people see it, they'll immediately think of me. I want a dress that no one else can pull off. I have less than a month to design it. There's no way I'm wearing an off-the-rack.

That sounds prissy and everything, but I am prissy, and I'm okay with being prissy, so there's really no problem.

We dance before we even knew music

The art show went amazingly. I've gotten so many compliments on my three photos, my only pieces in the show. They weren't hung but stuffed rather in a small basket. They, along with other matted works, were not judged. It makes me kind of annoyed that my hard work kind of came to nothing, but whatever. M. Kelly and Mlle. Johnston came together. I do love her very much. Mlle. Connelly also came to see it with her boyfriend.

I was in charge of putting name tags on the AP Art students to identify them as the artists. It was fun with so many people there but after an hour, I was bored. So I decided leave early and catch a movie with Mlle. Johnston and Connelly. We watched Black Swan. Mlle. Johnston was such a good movie-seeing partner. She'd seen it before, so she warned me whenever a creepy scene approached. Mlle. Connelly was also so very good. She hadn't seen it before so our experiences matched and the intensity of the craziness lessened. I love all the ballerina clothes that the ballerinas wear, in and out of the studio. I might do a dress sketch on this movie.

 

I do feel like such a sophisticated young adult today, attending an art show and going out to movies with friends. Normally, my mother confines me to the house and rarely lets me out. I told her the show was from four to six, and that it was mandatory for me to stay the whole time, but I left at four forty-five and watched the movie until six forty-five, when I said goodbye to my friends and left for Michael's where I bought a small canvas and gold paint. My mother called and I told her I'd just left. Everything went according to plans. Good girls are simply bad girls who don't get caught.

Naked people have little or no influence in society

Mlle. Coleman couldn't come with me to Mme. McElroy's party after all. It was fun; I bonded with the younger kids and met Mlle. Behan there. She didn't recognize me for some reason even though my locker is right next to hers and my sister was a close friend. Once she realized that I was the girl with the locker near hers, she was like, "oh, okay" and when she found out that I was my sister's sister (haha), she was like "OH!" Apparently, I'm two different people.

Mme. McElroy stayed in the guest room on what looked like a hospital bed as we kids played outside. She was surrounded by her friends and children. Goodness, that woman has good-looking children--especially sons (all too old for me, unfortunately). She seemed really pale and put on a bubbly facade, but I knew something was off when she tried to hide the fact that she forgot my brother's name--she's been our piano teacher for about three years. At the end, I said, "Feel better," and she told me that she was never going to get better and that she was going to heaven. It was all very depressing. Moving on.

I didn't see the M. S. McElroy. I saw his older brother though. God, this woman has such attractive children. Her daughter is really pretty too. She just gave birth to a two-week old baby. The baby is kind of dopey looking though. 

I think my concentration for my portfolio will be dresses inspired by famous paintings. I have done dresses for "The Bath" by Mary Cassatt, "Madame X" by John Singer Sargent, "Symphony in White No.1", "Symphony in White No.2", and "Arrangement in Grey and Black: Whistler's Mother" by Whistler. Now I think I'm working on "King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid" by Edward Burne-Jones. 

I know it seems kind of dreary and drab, but there's something about it that I really like. I'm thinking of layering a very soft and flowy creme-colored fabric over rich, scarlet red brocade, completed with a pearl choker. Doesn't that sound just lovely? I've been favoring fabric that that skims the body and suggests curves instead of showing them outright, so I think I'm going to use that in this dress--there's a possibility I may not, since I've already done so for a few dresses already. There's a possibility that I'll be struck by inspiration some time tomorrow and just trash this whole idea and go with a totally different one.

I wonder how Tesla feel with that visual mapping ability of his. I wish I have that. Things would be so much easier.