Kissing is a means of getting two people so close together that they can't see anything wrong with each other.

So yesterday, I've noticed that Mlle. Nguyen got really touchy-feely with M. Nikitin while the four of us were putting our face masks on. He kept asking me to put the stuff on his face for him, but I really didn't want to send mixed signals, so I was just like, "Oh my gosh, it's not that hard. Just do it," because it's seriously isn't hard--you just slab it on and peel it off after half an hour, but Mlle. Nguyen did the whole thing for him. Spoiled brat.

Then later than evening, I wanted to go to the Langson Library, and M. Nikitin was the only one available to go, so me and him went. The moment we stepped in the library, things got really flirty. Like, I wasn't kidding when I said I didn't want to send mixed signals and that equated to not initiate any kind of flirting. God, I don't know how I could have lasted in the elevator alone with him. I just stared at the floor number thingy, trying to look deep in thought, and I could totally see him looking at me the entire time. Then we just wandered around aimlessly amongst the books. We talked about neutral thing, but he was almost always nearly pressed up against my back and his arms would almost always be touching mine when we reached for books. Once, we were at a dead end, and we were standing so close and the tension was so fucking great. I wanted him to make a move and kiss me or...just do something about it. But I chickened out and told him that I could squeeze in between the wall and the shelf, and I did, escaping. Then I found books on prostitution and decided to check them out. When we headed back to the elevator, there was still lots of tension between us, but there was this girl there too, so nothing happened.

I was going to go back to my room, but he suggested that we get tea, and we drank tea in his room. Then he asked me if I could help him study for his math quiz tomorrow. Well, he's doing Math 2A, which is Single Variable Calculus, and I took two years of that shit, so I stayed and helped. Well, things got flirty again, but we got shit done. Like, when we worked on problems, he would kneel really close to me so our arms would touch. Then he'd lightly elbow me and I'd elbow him back. Then he'd brush the back of my hand and I'd do it to him.

He suggested that I spent the night. We stayed up till two studying for his math quiz. I went to sleep a bit earlier because I was tired and after a while, he slid in beside me and put his arms around me. We passed out at about four in the morning.

In the middle of kissing, I told him that I wanted to kiss him in the library, and he asked me why I didn't. I was like, "Well, it's because you like [Mlle. Yee]," and he said, "I'm not into her anymore. And in case you haven't noticed, I like you a lot." I was just like, "WAIT, WHAT?" and he was like, "Why do you think I spend so much time hanging out with you?"

I'm so glad M. Uribe sleeps with an eye mask on and music plugged in because, fucking God, I would have been horribly screwed that night. He asked me to stay this weekend since M. Uribe is going home. Well, Mlle. Yee is also going home, so if I stay behind, we each have a room to ourselves. But I've already stayed here for the past two weeks, so I really have to go home this week because my parents miss me.

I woke up to him kissing me again. I probably got one and a half of sleep that night.

Oh, that's right. I asked him what we were, and he said he didn't want to put a label on us, but I was like, "Well, I want to know," and he said, "Yeah, me too." He asked me what I wanted and told me that he'd agree to whatever I was going to ask. I told him I didn't know at the moment, but we agreed not to make anything public right now because of all the drama going on, especially now that Mlle. Nguyen was back in the picture. He said I shouldn't worried since he wasn't the type of guy who got around. At this point, I laughed and told him that the morning after our first kiss, I thought he did that to all the girls who've slept in his bed. He was just like, "Oh, NO. I've never touched [Mlle. Nguyen]." It feels good to be the only one he's done this too, you know?

I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.

I honestly don't know how I feel about anything anymore.

So Mlle. Yee's found out on her own that M. Nikitin likes her, but M. Nikitin finds out that she's friendzoned him so bad it's not even funny, and he's disappointed. I'm just in the middle of all this. Sometimes I want him really bad, but other times I don't.

Yesterday was kind of crazy. We were sitting next to each other, and sometimes we'd touch, but the other person always move away after a minute or two just to come back and touch the first person with something else. Then the cycle starts again.

I don't know. It just feels like I'm just getting the attraction with not infatuation with people here.

Oh, yeah. I met a cute boy on Friday and we got talking. The only things I know about him are that he's a Music major--M. Readdick can help me with that--and he has the same iPhone case and he's in the Logic class right before my Chemistry class. I'll probably never see him again, but I'll try talking to more people now.

Some days it is a heroic act just to refuse the paralysis of fear and straighten up and step into another day.

Dude, my TAs are so cute!

So, me and M. Paff were supposed to eat dinner together, but he shows up with his hallmates even though he's the one that's asked me. So I eat dinner with my roomie and her friend, which is cool too.

I need to figure out what to get him for his birthday. I'm thinking a foot collage but that may be a little bit hard to explain.

I hope to stand firm enough to not go backward, and yet not go forward fast enough to wreck the country's cause.

Okay, so my mom keeps mentioning M. Paff. She keeps saying how he looks so nice, and I'm just thinking to myself, "His hands are really nice too." And she thinks we should be friends, and I'm just like, "Oh, you have no idea." She's just saying that. Once she knows he's my friend she'll feel threatened. She thinks which ever boy I decide to date will lead me away from her.

Trust me, I don't need a boy to do that.

So M. Paff got me addicted to League of Legend. Yay. We play together online, and this game totally explains why he's gone reticent. It's a full-screen game and it's a pain to check Skype while you're in game, so what we do is call each other and turn off the videos and just play.

Yes, it's very nerdy. Haha.

Mlle. Johnston's all moved in. So is my cousin and Mlle. Hatfield, who came over the other day to give me my graduation present. It was incredibly awkward because there was really nothing to talk about because I've been hanging out with Mlle. Johnston so much more than I have with her, and everyone knows those two hate each other. So Mlle. Johnston calls me at dinner because she's lonely and I'm like, "You need to hang up the phone and make friends. Like, now." And she says we have to Skype later. So she Skypes me and says that she's made two new friends and one of them is Vietnamese and that I have nothing to worry about because the Vietnamese girl is nothing like me and she likes me so much better. Well, I'm glad.

Speaking of high school friends, Mlle. Yasakova's recently decided to reconnect. Are you serious? No, I'm out of high school and I want nothing to do with that drama. Nonononno. I'm done. You ditched me. It's nice that you want to reconnect and make nice, but I'm done. I'm over it and I've already moved on. I'm way gone, actually.

I saw M. T. Bland (the twin that I didn't have a crush on) the other day at McDonald's. He was working there and he saw me and he looked happy, you know, like, yay, someone I know. I was like, "HEY...can I get a big Mac?" and he got confused and disappointed because I guess he was expecting more of a greeting than that. Oh, god. I definitely screwed that up. Oh, Jesus, I did. We asked each other about college and stuff. Then later, my brother went and ordered a smoothie or whatever, but the cashier gave him the wrong one, so M. T. Bland saw his hesitation and asked me if something was wrong, and then he fixed it for us. That was really nice. When I left, I said "bye" to make up for my awkward greeting.

Friends with benefits? Don't sample the goodies unless you're willing to risk addiction and withdrawal.

On Sunday, Mlle. Johnston called me up and asked if I wanted to go see Friends with Benefits. I asked my mother and she said it was okay. So, we went and saw it with her mother, who also paid for me.

It’s a typical rom-com. It’s funny, has a happy ending where the guy realizes that he’s been in love with the girl the whole time. Well, life doesn’t work like that, but knowing that didn’t stop me from sharing my thoughts with M. Paff. I was only a quarter serious, but I jokingly—completely jokingly—asked him if he wanted to be mine, and he said he was 50/50 on the idea and he would need time to think about it before giving me an answer. I think he was serious. Well, the thing is, for the past couple of days, I’ve been complaining about how I wanted to be with someone after I found out that I actually did not kiss David, which is good, don’t get me wrong. Yes, I was disappointed, but I was very, very, very relieved.

Then today, M. Paff and I video chatted again for a bit until he started to play Black Ops at the same time. Sure, I love watching guys play Black Ops as much as the next girl, but I ended the call because I wanted to talk to M. Monge. Well, I didn’t tell him that, of course, but M. Paff wanted me to stay on so we could talk while he played. Um…I don’t ever want to be a second thought, so I said it was alright. Then, after a while, he said I looked good. I was like, “I’m not mad at you,” and he was like, “Are you going to take a compliment or are you going to overanalyze it?”

Well, I have a gigantic pimple on my nose, but, okay, I’ll take it. There was something I wanted to do uninterrupted, so I told everyone I was talking to that I was going to bed. That was at midnight, so it was understandable. So I downloaded music and synched my iPhone. I also worked on catching up with blog; it’s nice to be caught up—I’m still working on that.

Then, at about one, I went to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I texted/Skyped M. Paff asking if he was up, and he was. I told him I couldn’t sleep, and he seemed concerned—which is always nice. Then we talked, and he confessed that he’d been having weird thoughts lately and he was wondering if I’d be creeped out if I knew he was very seriously considering what I’d said the other day. The conversation got going and I told him that it wouldn’t be such a good idea for me to enter into a no-string-attached relationship with him if I was the least bit attracted to him, and I was a bit attracted to him. So, I’ll think he cares for me, when he doesn’t, and start to like him back, and that’s going to work in this kind of a relationship. He said that if I thought I couldn’t handle it, then it’d be a better idea to not get into it. I concurred.

Then he asked me why I even thought of the whole friends with benefits thing, and I told him basically everything. Then I asked him, and he said he wasn’t attracted to me (the nerves…haha jk), but, for some reason, he thought I’d looked really good today, so he started to reconsider it.

Okay, well, I think I’ve had better days, but the only thing I did differently today was I had my hair up. Now that I think about it, when I started to gather my hair to put it up, he’d stopped playing and started watching. Hmm…that’s interesting since M. Dow says I look a lot prettier with my hair down, but M. Paff prefers me with my hair up.

Just to clear things up, even if M. Paff and I got into that kind of a relationship, we most likely (95% sure) wouldn’t go all the way because I’d like my first time to be with someone who loves me.

But then again, I’ve been saying that my whole life about my first kiss.

Oh, I almost forget about M. Monge. I’m so glad he doesn’t see me as a piece of meat anymore. Now he sees me as a female friend he gets off to. Hah. Just kidding. Kind of.

But I like talking to him because even though he accuses me of asking the world’s weirdest questions, he answers me seriously, be it about college or sexual fetishes.

A girl and a guy can be just friends, but at one point or another they will fall for each other... maybe temporarily, maybe at the wrong time, maybe too late, or maybe forever.

So SPOP was okay. It was boring, but we got to know each other a tiny bit better on the second days. I was very apprehensive about going to UCI in the fall. On the first day, all I could think about was how I didn't like it, how there were too many Asian girls here, and how it all felt so suffocating. On the second day, I didn't mind it as much.

After that, I drove to Monsieur Paff's house and we went out to eat. He was cuter in person than he was on Skype, and I was self-conscious at first; I couldn't hold eye contact with him for a long time.  It was disguise-able in the car, where my eyes were supposed to be on the road anyways.

When we got to the restaurant--a neat little place where M. Paff is friendly with the manager--the manager looked at me and then looked at M. Paff knowingly, like, "ooh, you got a girl", but when we asked for separate checks, I think he realized that we weren't together.

At one point, when we were sitting in a booth across from each other and talking, he smiled and I thought he looked really adorable; when he talked, he sounded adorable, but I didn't have a crush on him. I might have been a bit attracted to him, but I definitely did not have a crush on him.


After dinner, we went to a nearby Asian market because M. Paff had always wanted to go but never went because he said he felt weird going to an Asian market as a white guy. We did. He was fascinated. Then we went to the movie theater, but the movies were too late, so he asked his mother if I could come to the house. Surprisingly, she said I could; I just couldn't come upstairs to his room and get impregnated. Busted.


He introduced me to his mother and sister and his sister's boyfriend, then we went on his laptop and just had fun. When it was time for me to leave, he walked me to my car and gave me a hug. Like, a really good hug compared to the crappy, awkward ones the guys from Aldor, my hall for SPOP, gave me.

A man who exposes himself when he is intoxicated, has not the art of getting drunk.

Oh, my God, Mlle. Johnston needs be more selective. So after David and I left, she and Phil were supposed to leave also since he was all kissing her face. Well, she went and got her stuff only to realize that Phil was gone. She was pissed, so when this Filipino asked to buy her a drink, she said yes. Then he followed her around. I don't know how she shook him off when she was so drunk, but she did before going back to the room. She told me all this at 4:30 in the morning because I accidentally locked her out.

Mlle. Johnston and I visited Ensanada, Mexico today. There were a fuck load of guys in cars who kept honking at us. I think the "Best Pick Up Line" award goes to the guy who stood in front of a shop and went, "Come in, ladies. Models pay less." It feels good to be checked out wherever you go; it makes you feel desirable and almost invincible.  Yes, I never knew being viewed as a piece of meat could feel so good.

Anyways, we went to a bar and each got a margarita, but Mlle. Johnston also got a shot of Kahlúa. I felt off after I drank a bit more than a quarter of it, but I drank a quarter more. When I moved, it felt like I was moving faster than my brain could register. Like, my brain was slow in registering it. These two men came to the bar and talked to us, but we left a bit after that. Mlle. Johnston kept giggling, but I was okay. Actually, I felt very witty and clever, and I like that feeling. It was just a bit off, and I thought if I would just walk slower and more deliberate, no one would know that I was tipsy. The paranoia was kind of fun; it made me feel like I was on a secret mission.

We found David a bit and played cards with him. The waiter that Mlle. Johnston fancies was outside one of the clubs, and I told her to go talk to him since it would be a bit inappropriate for him to talk to her since he worked there. So she was like, "I've seen you around a lot," and he was like, "Yeah? Where have you seen me?" even though we thought this whole time he was looking at her at dinner. Boo. What a douche.

So we played cards and the Filipino guy came. Okay, so when Mlle. Johnston and I were sunbathing this morning, he came over and it was majorly awkward and she was avoiding him. Anyways, the table has four chairs, and we used the extra chair as a place to keep our purses. He made a motion to sit down, but I was like, "We're waiting for someone to come," so he stood there as the three of us played cards. Once it got really awkward, David suggested we go to the Deck Party, and we left. The Filipino guy didn't follow us, thank God. But the Deck Party wasn't fun, so we went to the karaoke thing, and it was hilarious to watch drunk people sing. Then we went to the Rex.

Like, since we played cards and stuff together, I thought our relationship was purely platonic but when we were back on the dance floor, it was me and David dancing together again. Okay. No big deal since we were just two friends dancing together. But after a while, he put his arms around my waist and we repeated what we did yesterday. It was all fun and good.

And then there's Mlle. Johnston. Since David and I were dancing together, she got bored and had a smoke. This guy came over and asked for a smoke too--when we were discussing the night later on, I told her to not give out her cigarettes anymore; it's supposed to be the other way around--and they started talking. K. Thing is...while we were dancing, I saw him have two bottles of beer, and when they started talking, he asked for a bottle of beer, a disco ball, and a shot each for him and her. Yeah. She was sensible enough to know that she couldn't finish all that. She only drank the disco ball, and she told me to drink it with her when he left for the bathroom. I did; it was yummy.

David and I danced some more before he said we should go check on Mlle. Johnston. We've been checking on her periodically through out the night, and she seemed like she was getting on well, but David wasn't convinced, so I came over, and I was like, "Hey, you okay?" and she was like, "Yeah, I'm okay," and I was like, "You don't seem okay," and she didn't seem okay then because the whole time we were talking, he had his hand on the back of her thigh, near her ass. She pushed him away for a bit and scooted closer to me and whispered, "I think I'm drunk; I want to leave." I said, "Well, then let's leave," but she was like, "He's gonna follow us," and I was like, "It's alright; I can take care of him," and she was like, "No, you can't. He's in the Marines," and I was like, "Well, David's gonna help us out, so get up."

We told him--his name was Scott. Boo--that we were going to walk around. We took the elevator up to Lido and got pizza to buy time. Then Mlle. Johnston announced that she needed to go to the bathroom, and I said I'd come with. David and Scott went outside onto the deck. A few minutes later, David came back and the three of us literally ran to the elevator and David delivered us safely to our room.

Mlle. Johnston thanked David and I for being good friends, and David said, "Well, I consider you guys my friends which was why I played cards with you guys. I only play cards with family and friends, not strangers." Well, I'm glad we've made a good friend.

Then Mlle. Johnston and I talked about the night. She complained about how I get nice guys and she gets creepers. Well, I bail when I sense the creepiness. She just needs to learn how to say no.

Oh, yeah. So on the first night, before things got going, we were really bored, so we just hung around the Atrium and people-watched. We spotted a group of cute guys, but they looked pretty douchey, so we just planned on doing some quick and harmless flirting. But when we decided on what to do, they began to leave, so, on a whim, I stopped them to ask for the time when they walked past us. Well, the guy who answered had on a red shirt that said "Canada" in white. When David and I were dancing together on the first night, guess what shirt he was wearing. Yup, but when I asked him if it was us who asked for the time, he didn't remember. But he figured out that it WAS us tonight. 

All women are flirts, but some are restrained by shyness, and others by sense.

The day is starting off horribly. I had killer cramps yesterday so Mlle. Johnston gave me Midol to help, but there's caffeine in Midol and I took it at 2 AM since we got back at probably a bit later than half past one.  I was up till 3 writing the entry for Monday but still wasn't tired or sleepy, but I forced myself to sleep anyways.

But you know those uncomfortable and headache-inducing dreams where the same dream and a couple of its variants are looped over and over again? Normally, I would realize something was off and woke up, but I guess I was so tired physically that I couldn't escape it. Well, I guess I did for a couple of times but I couldn't tell the difference between the dreams and reality so I'm not so sure. I woke up a few minutes before six despite going to bed at half past three. Why couldn't I be like this during the school year?

The whole day, I felt off; Mlle. Johnston kept asking if I was okay. I was; I just didn't feel like eating or doing anything productive. We went to Catalina and went back because I was feeling very lethargic. I intended to sleep for half an hour but ended up napping for only 15 minutes and couldn't sleep anymore.

Mlle. Johnston took her time and forever getting ready for the formal dinner. I wore my black prom dress and Mlle. Johnston wore this tiny little black dress that made her look really hot, especially with the red lipstick. I was pissed when she took forever to get ready but it was partly out of jealousy since she looked hot and more appropriate than I was since the people who bothered to dress up wore homecoming or cocktail dresses so I stuck out--which turned out to be good since there were a bunch of people complimenting me on my dresses. However, the waiter that Mlle. Johnston fancies didn't even properly glance at me twice, but he did a double take for her, so it's all good.

We went to the Flashback party, which was a dud since it was more for much older people. We bailed on that and went to the Comedy Show. That was hilarious.

Then we came back again for the Salsa dancing, which was officially called the Latin Party. We met David and Phil there with their other cousins. We danced with them even though none of us knew how to dance to this kind of music. David suggested that we should go to the Comedy thing at midnight, since we would have a great laugh instead of dancing awkwardly to Latin music.

So we went got that, and the seating arrangement was lIke this: Mlle. Johnston me David, which was a bit awkward since I thought he was interested in Mlle. Johnston more. During the thing, Mlle. Johnston leaned over and whispered, "I think you should kiss him...you have to make the first move." I was like, "What? But he likes you though." She just laughed and shook her head. So during the skit, whenever the comedian said something outrageously funny, I would laugh and bump into him or lightly touch his arm. Well, I received no response so I stopped. No hard feelings; just a confirmation that I was right.

We went back to the club and, thank God, they were finally playing our music. Okay, so when I walked in, I saw this really cute guy staring at me, so, for some reason, I held his gaze for the longest time as I walked to the dance floor with a smirk on my face. Then David came in and we danced together for the whole night. Sometimes he would put his hands on my waist, and, not wanting it to be awkward, I put my arms around his neck. Sometimes I would lean in closer, and he would hug me even tighter. If it got to that, I'd just put my head on his shoulder and rest for a bit while dancing, if that makes sense. His shoulders were a tad higher than I could reach, so it was a bit like me putting my head on his chest, my nose against his clavicle. The whole time, I was just thinking how good, how much better this whole situation would be if it was somebody I actually liked...well, like, have romantic feelings for.

Having said that, the next part will seem so illogical. When we were that close to each other, I wondered what he'd do if I kissed him on the cheeks. Well, I decided to see for myself, so I tiptoed and leaned in, aiming for his cheek, but he saw me moving in, so he thought I was going to kiss him; well, he turned his head so I could meet his lips. I think our lips did brush, and since I didn't end up where I intended to, I panicked and slid over to where his cheek was. It was awkward, not gonna lie. On a scale of one to ten, this incident is a solid seven. When that failed, I returned to his chest/shoulder and kind of laughed in his neck. I guess he could feel it since he kind of nuzzled back and hugged me tighter.

Mlle. Johnston said that Phil thought I was being a tease for not grinding on David. Mlle. Johnston said that I should grind on David since "it's fun." I've considered it and decided that since I'm not comfortable doing that and since I think it makes me feel and look cheap, I won't be doing it--I think I totally fucked up the verb tenses in that last sentence.

Point is...I try to keep it clean and classy--well, my definition of clean and classy, that is.

And then, you know, I launch into another story of my flirtation for the night. So...I kept getting really thirsty, and David would come with me to get water every time. He's such a gentleman; all those time that I got water, he was always the one pouring.  So my foot was kind of cramping up so we just stood side by side, arms touching and just kind of grooved to the music. He was going to go to UCI--small world?

Toward the end of the night, we sat next to each other, and I had my head on his shoulders. Then I asked if he thought I was a tease and he said "not at all." Then I think I nodded off on his shoulders for a bit. Like, a few minutes. After that, we went to get the schedule for tomorrow, and he walked me to my room. 

Adventure without risk is Disneyland.

So when we first started, Mlle. Johnston wandered around the ship. I don't remember what our purposes were, but, truth be told, we were bored and disappointed that guys didn't hit on us. Conceited? Very. I guess we were just trying to look busy until the club opened, which was 10 PM. We got followed by a bunch of black teenage boys who were hitting on us. We stupidly went into this empty bar where they kind of cornered us until my daddy walked in. He didn't know what was going on, but I told one of the kids that he was my daddy and he was an ex-Marine; they all scrammed after that. Mlle. Johnston was a bit peeved that I did that since they kind of were our source of fun. We chatted with this cute Australian fitness trainer; he seemed nice enough, but I don't think he was interested.

So at 10, we left for the club, where NO ONE was in. Lame. So we went to watch an okay show with dancers and comedians. Then we went to the Single and Ready to Mingle event at the same club as before (it's called Rex, by the way), and we were like, "Okay, if there's no one there, let's bail."

There were some people, but the people dancing, at first, were mostly drunk and unattractive. They all couldn't dance, so we didn't dance at first because we didn't want to be associated with that. But we finally went for the dance floor fifteen minutes in. At first, I was so nervous because there were about eleven people on the dance floor, so Mlle. Johnston and I were very easily seen and easily judged. Plus. Mlle. Johnston is a dancer and she danced very sexily, and I didn't want to be compared to that.

Well, I got into it soon enough and this guy named Nick came up and introduced himself and said he saw me in the parking lot earlier in the day and thought he's come and say hi. I introduced myself and we kind of danced together in a group, but I got thirsty, so I went to the bar to drink water.

Well, I was by myself since I told Mlle. Johnston to keep dancing, and this older guy came up and introduced himself; his name was David and he saw me around the pool and thought he'd come over and say hi. Seriously? Like, you can't come up with something more clever than that? He turned out to be 29. Eww. Twenty five is my cut off age. Plus, I was sitting in the stool next to him and I could smell the liquor on his breath. Monsieur Dow told me once that I should just try just sit there all pretty and not be all that talkative, and if a guy's truly interested, he'll bend over backward to keep making conversation. That kind of did happen even though I didn't intent for things to go that way; he'd keep saying something and I'd comment on it politely and that'd be it. This one song came up and I was desperate to get rid of him so I was like, "I LOVE this song!" and started leaving, but then I felt bad so I was like, "You wanna come with?" and of course he followed.

I returned to where we were dancing, where Nick grabbed my hand and started to twirl me round and round. It was fun at first until I realized that he wanted my butt, which had been facing the corner to avoid unwanted grinders, to be right in front of his crotch. Hell no; I'm not going to let some random ass drunk guy I just met stick his junk in my back business, so I kept twirling and twirling and keeping my butt to the wall. Problem solved.

Then Mlle. Johnston got thirsty and I went with her to get a drink, with David of course. He offered to buy us drinks, but I didn't want to get drinks from him, so I politely declined. Mlle. Johnston wanted some though, but they wouldn't let him buy it for her. He let her drink some of the stuff he was drinking even though he knew we were 18. I thought it'd be okay to leave her with him for a few seconds since he was so awkward and I was sure that he'd not do anything inappropriate with her, so I left for the bathroom multiple times that night since Aunt Flo is a bitch who won't leave me the fuck alone. I was wearing my tight stripe dress which looked lovely, but it was so tight that if I wore a pad, it would be visible to creeps who stared at my butt. I'm having major problems with tampons so toilet paper was the next best thing even though that meant I had to change often. Aunt Flo is much like my mother, who came to the Single and Ready to Mingle event and WATCHED us. Thank God we were not doing anything inappropriate when she was watching. Moments before, Mlle. Johnston was smoking and grinding on someone--not at the same time of course. I asked her to leave, and, surprisingly, she did without a hassle.

Well, that is...until I got bored of sitting at the bar once when this funny black guy grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor. I saw this cute guy dancing by himself and started dancing in front of him. Gradually, we got closer and closer but never close enough for any part of him to touch me even though I would sometimes accidentally brush his knees or upper legs. We were having a good time until I saw the funny black guy dancing with another woman but Mlle. Johnston was nowhere to be found. I kept dancing with the same guy, but I kept looking around and found her with Creeper David at the bar and he gave her something to drink. I kept dancing around, but moments later, she and Creeper David was gone and I couldn't find them anywhere.

At this point, on a scale of one to ten, my freaking out level was a high 6. I don't get freak out easily; almost nothing even gets pass four, so six is pretty high. I stopped dancing and started looking around. Since my back was to the bar when we danced, I asked my dancing partner if he'd seen where she went. He didn't know, but he  went with me to ask some of the people who worked there for her whereabouts, and one of them got us to the right place. She was smoking where we were sitting when the club started, but then I saw Creeper David uncomfortably close to her. I tried asking her if she was okay from where I was dancing but I'm nearsighted and that club was dark, so I couldn't tell. I didn't want to just come over there and dragged her over. At one point, she came over and she was like, "Hey, are you okay?" and I was like, "Are YOU okay?"

She wasn't, but he followed her to us, so I grabbed my dancing partner's shoulders and spoke to his ears, "hey, is it alright if she dances with us? That guy's 29." He said it was okay, so I immediately grabbed her hands and we danced with my dancing partner too. Well, Creeper David came on the dance floor and started dancing with her again even though my dancing partner and I tried our hardest to keep them separated.

A few minutes later, another guy came and grabbed my dancing partner and shouted to me, "This is my little cousin!"  I laughed and waved hello to the "little cousin" and the older cousin started dancing with me and his cousin. Suddenly, I grabbed him and said, "can you dance with my friend over there?" he was like, "yeah, sure" and he grabbed her and pulled her toward him while Creeper David was still grinding on her. They had tons of fun dancing thisclose to each other while Creeper David watched on; he didn't leave till much later.

When the problem with Mlle. Johnston was situated, I turned to the little cousin and thanked him. I asked him for his name and he said "David." Great. He asked for my name and I told him.

Anyways, throughout the night, David was dancing very, very close to me, but I always backed away while dancing. Sometimes I would be backed to the wall, but I always found a way to turn and go the other way.

Anyways, at one point, I put my hands on his shoulders to ask him a question, since he would lean closer and give me his ear. Well, this time, for some reason, I kept it there a bit too long, and he took it as an invitation to put his hands on my waist, where they eventually slipped down to my hips. So, when the faster beats came, I took my hands off his shoulders and threw them in the air; to shake off HIS hands, I jump-danced and turned around. Bad move. He grabbed my hips again and now my butt was to him and I could feel him trying to get closer. I was just trying to inch unnoticeably forward to counteract his moving forward. Then the faster beats came again and I danced just out of reach. Disaster averted.

Toward the end of the night, there were only three couples on the dance floor and I was the only one of them not grinding and touching.

At one point, I got thirsty and told David. He came with me to get a drink and Mlle. Johnston and the older cousin--Phil--came over too, but before they did, this guy asked to come between David and I when we were talking to grab some water. No big. He accidentally spilled some on my thighs and he said, "Sorry" to me and turned to David and said, "I'll leave it to you to wipe it for her," with a wink and left. I wiped it myself before he could get to it. Mlle. Johnston told me that Creeper David just grabbed her ass and started grinding when she was smoking.

Phil left and Mlle. Johnston danced with us. There was only one couple left on the dance floor and they were dirty dancing, like, no joke.

All of a sudden, I felt a pair of arms grabbing my arms, but I didn't panic because I could tell they were a woman's hands: warm and motherly. She leaned in to whisper in my ears "I don't know..." Millions of thoughts raced through my head before she could finish the sentence: if you know, but dancing that close with a guy like that is very risqué/if you know, but you're bleeding through your dress/ if you know, but your bloody pad's fallen to the floor...worst case scenarios like that. Instead, she said, "I don't know how you get your lovely body to move like that, but I think I should let you know that you're a beautiful dancer." I laughed and thanked her. That totally made my night.

I don't know why, but I think David became more interested in Mlle. Johnston than me after she joined. No big, I'm not interested in him. I'm just glad I was dancing with him and not some creep who would try harder to press against me. Us four made plans to do Salsa dancing tomorrow even though I can't salsa for shit. 

If a June night could talk, it would probably boast it invented romance.

Dear Monsieur TP,

I'm not okay with not seeing you everyday. Actually, I'm missing you like crazy. Everyday, every year, I tell myself I'll get over you, and I do...for the moment. Then I see you and I fall right back to square one.

I know Vu Lan is in the summer, but I don't know when. I've convinced my mother to go to your temple even though it's 44 minutes away. I can't wait to see you even though I know seeing you means I'll have to deal with the possibility of you forgetting about me.

I shouldn't have set my alarm ringtone as "Miss You" by Ed Sheeran during my stay there. I remember trying to wake myself up at five in the morning just so I could be near you setting up tables. Heck, I even listened to Buddhist lectures just to sit a few centimeters away from you. If that's not dedication, I don't know what is. But that's beside the point. Now every time I wake up to that song, I think of you even if I'd promised myself minutes before that I would forget about you.

I don't have the heart to change the ringtone. I like that song and I like you and I like how it reminds me of you even if it's the most painful feeling in the world, liking and missing someone. Upon waking and hearing that song and thinking of you, all my happiness drains and rushes down to my feet, dragging me down with it. My whole body feels like lead and my heart disappears, leaving a gaping hole where it should have been.

I can feel myself slipping away from sanity. I'm going crazy. All I can think about is you even though I can no longer conjure up your face in my mind--a damnable side effect of doing it too much.

I was cleaning out my closet today and I found one of the hairnets that I've used for An Cu Kiet Ha, and I threw it out after much deliberation only to immediately snatch it back from the trash because it reminded me of you and of our time together. I went and threw it out again because I was being ridiculous; it was a hairnet--I'd never use that hairnet again. And I got it out of the trashcan again. That went on for the third time until I stuffed it all the way to the bottom of the trashcan and took the trash out.

And when I looked up the distance between the temple and UCI, I nearly cried. One hour and twenty two minutes away.

My brain is telling me it won't work out between us; my heart doesn't want to believe it. Is it horrible for me to hope, wish, and pray that you're experiencing the same horrible feelings too?

Love,

Moi

If I had a single flower for every time I think about you, I could walk forever in my garden.

I feel so empty, like something’s missing. Last year it went away really fast, this feeling, but it’s been nagging me the whole day since the moment I woke up.

I’m going to be conceited and assume that he likes me too. I wonder why we like each other, though. We’ve never really talked before yesterday, but I’m always intensely attracted to him. I don’t think it’s lust because I’ve never had a sexual thought about him. I think it’s because, to me, he’s a mystery. His life outside the temple is unknown to me. I only know that he’s an orphan with an identical twin and family members in the temple. He thinks I’m this quiet and shy girl but I’m pretty sure it’s unanimously agreed upon by those who are close to me that I tend to share things that people would rather not know like…I don’t know…my bowel movements. Also, since he won’t make a move, I’m forced to maneuver myself in a way that allows him room to make a move without looking suspicious, so it’s kind of, like, a puzzle, an enigma, a code I want to crack. Manipulation, almost, but not quite. Like a game. I make myself available; his turn. He makes a move; my turn. Like, it’s enjoyable because the thrill of the hunt gets you high, but I think what has happened is that we’re both more into the hunt itself than we are with the prey. Follow?

On a side note, the state of New York has legalized gay marriage. I don’t know why I’m not there yet. That state is totally my state.

I found this really really really great dress. It’s a dress; actually, it’s this Indian robe or whatever. But it’s so adorable. I want it.

But things like that get me thinking. Like, marriage is like finding the perfect item for your closet. Like, I don’t buy anything unless I fall for it at first sight. Then I grab it and head to the dressing room where I try it on. If I don’t love it, then I don’t get it because if I do get it, I’ll never wear it and would have wasted money on something I don’t love when I could have used that for something else. If I still love it or love it even more, then I put it back and leave the store. If I keep thinking about that item all day or all week how it would be perfect in my closet, how it would go with these tights or those shorts, and if I still want it, then I go and get it. Usually, new items purchased this way are incorporated seamlessly into my wardrobe and usually become one of my staples. But I’d hate to be the clothes and have others try me on just for fun. That doesn’t sound too good.

I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.

Monsieur TP and I still haven’t gotten past “can you hand me the spoons?” and “bring this tray out, please”. Yeah. He talks to everybody but me. His twin is also talkative to everybody but me. What is with this? I was kind of complaining about it to my little brother without telling him that I liked one of the twins, and he said, “Maybe they fancy you.” Well, I just need the right one to fancy me.

So, yesterday, when I got back to the temple at night, I had to go take a leak really bad, so I ran to the bathroom and lo, behold, there was a giant ass line. So, while I was trying to not do that awkward pee dance, I saw Monsieur TP and he saw me. So…I watched as his face went from normal to really happy, and he smiled at me like he was really glad to see me. I smiled back, of course—thank God I wasn’t acting retarded then. Then after I got my business done, we passed each other a couple more times, each time glances would be exchanged.

I don’t know. It’s just that things like that make me think that he has feelings for me too, but sometimes he just seems so aloof. The whole I was there, I was Skyping with M. Paff who told me that maybe M. TP seemed aloof because he was busy. I’d like to believe that very much.

Then today is my last day there, so I got up at half past five (yes, in the morning!) to help set up for breakfast. So…guess who was part of the setting up crew? Well, he’s always part of everything around the temple, but it’s just…I don’t know…it’s just nice working together. And then when we were passing out the soup, he passed me and we were really close together when I looked up and he looked up at each other. I don’t know. I just can’t think of any other explanations for looking at someone that small distance apart other than that he likes me too. I mean, that’s why I did it.

Then I helped set up for lunch…with him…and a bunch of other people as well. Then I went and looked after the little kids and took a nap and missed the passing food out.

Then my mother told me that today was our last day here. Well, tomorrow is when it actually ends and we usually leave on the last day. I was bummed, but not too bummed because I had to take a dump and I don’t like taking dumps at places that aren’t my house. Yeah. TMI much? That’s me. But we were to leave at 9 after the Buddhist lecture.

So, I took a smaller nap and then woke early to set up for dinner. Guess who I saw? Yes. Wow, you are absolutely right. Monsieur TP. At first, he was walking from the entrance toward the main eating area, wearing regular clothes—we all kind of wear our Buddhist garbs around here for these events or the people who don’t have Buddhist clothes wear these green aprons that has the temple’s name on them—so I thought he was coming back from…you know…normal life, but a few minutes later, he came out again with a backpack and walked out. I was working at the row of tables that was closest to the entrance. He turned at the gate and looked once and we locked eyes. Then a few minutes later, I was just looking up and saw him in his car passing, and we locked eyes again. Awk? Yes, a bit.

But I was a bit worried because I knew dinner started at six and it was five then, that meant I only had four hours left and he was gone, so…things weren’t working out! Then I came in the kitchen to help, and guess who was there at five thirty?

Thank God.

We helped with dinner and at one point, all the food was brought out and there were a few of us left just standing around. He was, like, four feet away and I could tell that he was looking at me, but I couldn’t look back without making my feelings obvious. It was like the other night when I attended the Buddhist lecture. My brother was the one sitting between us, and we were all the way toward the back. And at one point, this lady behind him left, so I moved there because the wall was right there so I could lean on it because I’m lazy like that. But moving right behind my brother meant I was kind of right next to him. We were less than a foot apart (an inch or two away from each other) and not being able to touch was incredibly aggravating. It was quite hard to concentrate with him being so near and the monk’s heavy, heavy Northern accent.

Anyways, we at dinner after the monks ate dinner and all of the sudden a bunch of people gathered near this one inner gate. And I saw M. TP bringing a huge ass ladder, so a bunch of other people and I came over to find out what was going on. Well, a baby bird fell from the tree and the monks and the lady monks were trying to get it back up to its mommy. Monsieur TP helped at first, but the monks told him to go eat since he worked really hard, but he got a bowl of soup and ate in front of a car, right next to where I was standing to watch the scene. It wouldn’t have been just the two of us in that corner if it hadn’t been for my little brother coming over to see and this little monk who kept bugging Monsieur TP. I wanted to be like, “Dude, just let him eat,” but I didn’t want to come off as a bitch, so I didn’t. Then I found out that he wasn’t even training to be monk! That’s good, because M. TP actually talked to me then. He was like, “This kid? He’s way too mischievous to be a monk.” It sounds awkward, but it’s because I’m translating it, and I’m just an awkward translator. It sounds very not awkward in Vietnamese.

And then after that whole she-bang, I went to dry the dishes, hoping that the older people would go listen to the lectures and leave me and him alone again even though he didn’t normally dry the dishes. He came over and asked to borrow my iPhone charger. And I went to get it. Okay, so before, I wanted to let him know that I was leaving, but I couldn’t figure out a way to do it without it being weird, so this whole charger thing gave me the perfect excuse. As I handed it to him, I looked him in the eyes and said, “I need it back because I’m leaving at nine.” You know, one of those, read-between-the-lines thing. He was like, “At nine?” and I said, “Yes, right after the lectures.”

Then he came over again and helped dry dishes. My God, it was so hard to keep a stupid smile from going on my face with all those people around me, but I was really happy. I kept hoping that these people would go to the lecture later and leave us to ourselves. Then I could just…you know…lean over and just peck him on the lips and go back to normal…like nothing happened, but all these other people were there and more came to dry the dishes so no can do. Grr.

So he didn’t help for long and carried the huge ass basket full of dishes and shit inside. I followed suit and carried a smaller basket with chopsticks, spoons, and ladles inside, where I helped him sort them all out. Okay, we were finally alone. We talked a bit. He asked me about my sister because he’d noticed that she was missing since we came in three the years before. I asked him about his twin brother. It was nice, being alone. Someone gave him a small plate full of rambutans and he offered me one. 

I said no even though I kind of wanted one since I already have gloves on and didn’t feel like taking them off to eat. He said, “You’re going to regret it when they’re all gone.” So I had one that was cut in half for easy access since I didn’t want to bite into it and tear the cover off at the moment since it’s such a bothersome thing to do. But then I wanted another one and he saw that I wanted another one so he opened one for me without me asking and I ate it.

For five seconds before this lady came in and started helping us. Oh. My. God. We didn’t need help. We—at least, I—wanted us to be alone. Jesus Christ. And then the little monk came back and started bugging him about his phone again!

I don’t know, but it seemed like he wanted to be alone with me too. He told the kid to go take a nap. The kid said he couldn’t possibly nap at half past six. Monsieur TP kept telling him to go somewhere else subtly, but the kid wouldn’t budge without M. TP’s iPhone, so I was like, “Um…you know my little brother? Well, my little brother has his [M. TP’s] iPhone. Go find him.” And he did! Yes. One cockblock down. A temple-ful of them to go. Well, by the time that lady was gone, we were done sorting and had no other reasons to be around each other anymore, and this one girl asked him to download something onto her laptop. FUCK.

So I grabbed my phone from his bedroom (don’t ask) and went to sit at a bench next to this old lady, but I thought, if I wanted him to spend more time with me, I need to get myself alone. So I went to the round outdoor table near the trees and sat there all by myself and my cell phone. I had my head on the table and absentmindedly playing LuxTouch and Skyping/texting with M. Paff at the same time. All of the sudden, I heard noises and I looked up and I saw Monsieur TP with that girl and their laptops. He came over and sat across from me while she was all grumbling, “Why are we out here? Why can’t we sit inside. We’re disturbing her.” He looked over, smiled, and said, “Can I sit here?” and of course I smiled back and said, “It’s alright.” We just kept looking over and smiling at each other.

I don’t know…at this point, I was kind of convinced that he had some kind of feelings for me too, but nothing would happen unless we ditched these cockblocks. And he was trying. He told the girl, who kept on grumbling about being outside, to go do what she wanted and come back when it was done. She didn’t want to and continued to grumble. Well, bitch, shut the fuck up cause you’re ruining my evening too.

Then this old lady came and told us to go sing. I was like, HELL no, but M. TP convinced me and that girl to go since he had to. So I did. I took a seat, and he was going to take a seat next to me, but that girl dragged him away to work on her laptop.

Like, seriously? You guys live nearby. Can’t you do this another night? I only had less than an hour left and I live an hour away. I think I get priorities.

But she dragged him away, but thank God, this old lady told me to go get him back because they needed people to sing. I went and got him and sat back down in my seat. Okay, so my seat was right next to the only seat left. Hah. But then this lady came and sat the fuck down! I was like, what the hell is with this? But when she saw him coming, she grabbed him and sat his butt down. Yes, someone who wasn’t an obstacle! But then that girl came again with her laptop and dragged a chair over and sat next to him. Boo.

My Vietnamese was deteriorating really fast, so I kept getting lost and of course, I asked him once or twice where we were. At one point, I made up my mind to just lean over and whisper, “Hey, I like you, but you probably already know that.” But that bitch dragged him away again.

Oh, my fucking God. You know, at that point, the mood was gone; I was pissed. I was done waiting around. I got up and got inside where I talked to M. Paff until my mother found me and made me go to the meditation session, where I was determined to avoid M. TP for the rest of the night until I went home. Well, I got out and I saw and I couldn’t do it. I went to bed/nap everyday for ten days thinking the same thing, but every time I see him, the feelings surged back. It’s been going on for ten days for the last three years. Pathetic? I know.

But once meditation was over, he was like, “You’re still here?” It was ten. I was like, “Yeah, we had to meditate.” He was like, “See you next year then.” And I said, “Bye.”

End of story.

I don’t even know if we’re going to see each other again next year since the event won’t be located at the temple next year. I’m hoping my mother will take us there for Vu Lan though. Fingers crossed.

All and all, it was just a summer fling. We were in this tiny Buddhist bubble. It never would have worked in real life. He’s not the most handsome guy and he’s my height. I’m pretty sure we’ll have communication problems, not to mention the fact that I don’t believe in long distance relationships. I guess I was just looking for closure when I thought about confessing, but I’m kind of glad that I didn’t confess. If he didn’t, then it’d just be awkward and it’d make a funny story to tell my grandchildren one day, but if he’d like me too, then it could get complicated. In a way, I was partly looking for confirmation that I was thought beautiful and desirable and that I, too, have the power to stir something in the opposite sex. That was the point of confessing if nothing could come out of it? We weren’t going to date, obviously, considering the physical and cultural distance between us. What would happen next time we see each other? What if one person moved on and the other person didn’t? Love isn’t a game. It’s one thing to be depressed by myself, but it’s something quite different if I drag someone down with me. I would hate for another person to feel as bad as I do when I do go under. Yeah, I’m glad I didn’t confess. I’m just glad he's at least noticed me this year.

Charm is a glow within a woman that casts a most becoming light on others.

Okay, so M. TP has a twin. Um…what? Like, for the last couple of nights, I kept passing him again and again and it would make no geographical sense whatsoever unless he had a twin. And then I got confirmation that he indeed has a twin who looks exactly like him, walks exactly like him, talks exactly like him, and looks at me the exact same way.

But I know which one is the real one because the real one has longer hair. And his twin is quieter. Like, way quieter.

So…I was taking a nap yesterday in my room at the temple. Okay, like, it was the awkwardest place to take a nap. I curled like a cat and napped at the edge of the mattress. And all of the sudden, I heard the door open. Well, the door is jammed. You have to force it open with your shoulder; it makes a really loud noise. M. TP was at the door and I was barely awake. I kind of sat up and he apologized for interrupting and thanked me for letting him borrow my charger. I had no idea what was going on; I later found out that my mother lent it to him. But I was all groggy when I reached for the charger, mumbled something, curled back into my original position, and went back to sleep while he was still there.

Yup. I am so charming and graceful sometimes I even amaze myself.

And there’s these other guys. Oh, my God, why can’t the one I like like me back? Like, once I like someone, I’m not interested in anyone else. Especially someone who looks like a thug or someone who looks like douche.

Okay…so…there’s this guy at the temple. He looks like he’s in his early thirty, but he’s really skinny and short and creepy. He wears this pair of black sunglasses that makes him look so douche-y. He always tries to talk to me, and I answer because I’m not rude, but he took my phone as a joke. Nononono. Sometimes I do that to people, but I get so pissed off when people do that to me. Yeah. You had no chance before; now you have negative chance—even though that makes no sense.

And then there’s this other guy from San Jose. He’s a bit taller than me, but he speaks English fluently. We have okay conversations but when he kept following me whenever I go, things got a bit uncomfortable. He looked like such a thug. I don’t know; I just didn’t get good vibes from him.

I took pictures of M. Purwadi today and hung out with Mlle. Jang. It was fun. It felt a bit different with them now. More liberated. Like, we were adults, not little kids anymore. It’s a great feeling. M. Purwadi has a lovely camera. I want it.

There's a difference between beauty and charm. A beautiful woman is one I notice. A charming woman is one who notices me.

So, there’s got to be a limit on how many times you can glance at someone and catch them looking at you before things get awkward and suspicious. Especially if you don’t talk. Yup, me and M. TP have been approaching that limit very, very, very quickly.

Let f be the number of times we’ve glanced at each other and caught the other looking.

To say f’ is positive and increasing would be a huge understatement. F’ is very positive and quickly increasing. I wonder what will happen when it does reach that number.

Anyways, I’ve been bitching about this Buddhist thing to anyone who’ll listen, but I actually am having a good time. Not a great time. Just a good time. Like, there are more children here this year, and they’re all under ten, so, as the youngest young adult, I’ve been unofficially delegated to watch them while still be part of the adult world.

So me and M. TP talked a bit again that evening. I don’t know. I might be overanalyzing things, but I think he changed his routine so we could see more of each other. Then, when most of the other people went to the main hall to listen to lecture, I told the people who were helping me with drying the spoons that they shouldn’t mind and just go since I wanted to be alone and turn on my music anyways. They thanked me and left. I turned on my music and had a great time drying the spoons, but then he came over and helped. Just the two of us. Drying spoons. I turned off my music since they were pretty risqué and so we were drying in silence.

Then I, being the charming girl that I am, asked why he was drying spoons with me when he could be listening to the lecture. He said that it was alright for him to miss a few minutes since he was helping me with the spoons. Then I asked again five minutes later. He was like, “You want me to leave?” And of course, I said, “Kind of.” Why the fuck did I say that? Why the fuck did I say the stupid things I do? Oh, my GOD.

I’m usually not this quiet! Like, ever. Yeah, I can be, but not this quiet. It sucks.

Strangers are just friends waiting to happen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or something like these:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Men get laid, but women get screwed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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.