Let's play a game of whose life sucks worse...I'll win, I always win.

This week fucking sucks. There's so many things going on. With me, with Mlle. Chu, and with Mlle. Nguyen. All involving boys.

Well, let's start with the good things this week. The day before yesterday, the bunch of us slept over at M. Nikitin's room. Then yesterday, we all hungout and stayed up hella late and had lots of fun. Then today we go with M. Nikitin to the beach clean up.

The beach's so fucking nice. We've made plans to bike there the Sunday after next. I'm so excited.

Then the bad shit:

So I haven't been hanging out or talking to M. Paff lately because I'm tired of being the only one making an effort. So yesterday, he messaged me on Skype and asked why he couldn't make friends. Well, buddy your problem isn't with making friends; it's keeping them that's the problem. I asked him what was wrong, and he said "Nothing," so I was like, "Then why did you bother to even ask me if you weren't going to talk about it?" He was like, "Fine. Then leave me alone." I was like, "K. Well, there's your answer."

Mlle. Nguyen was there, and she asked why I put up with it. I've been asking myself that question quite frequently these past few weeks.

Getting pissed at each other right before Mlle. Mayeda came over was a bad idea. He calls me on Skype at noon to let me know that she's arrived, but I miss it because of the beach clean up. Then I borrow Mlle. Yee's phone to call him. He calls me back after a while and brings Mlle. Mayeda over. I give her a very warm welcome, and he's like, "How come I don't get a smile?" and I'm like, "Cause you're you."

The three of us hang out in my common room and eventually end up in his room, watching funny videos on YouTube. The whole time, we're sitting very near each other to the point of almost touching, but I always move myself away when we do touch. Sure, at that range, I'm very attracted, but I feel more empowered holding myself back then letting myself go. I was supposed to get dinner with a bunch of people at 6:30, but Mlle. Mayeda has to leave at 6:30, so the three of us go eat an hour earlier.

It's nice when we're with her, but once she leaves, the pleasantness goes away. When I wave to someone who's staring at me while running, he says that I'm embarrassing sometimes, and I'm like, "Well, you're boring, and I'd rather be strange than be boring." After that, it's total silence. He walks like, five feet in front of me, and I don't even bother to keep pace with him. Then he just walks back to his hall without saying good bye, but since I'm civilized and well-mannered, I yell goodbye and leave.

Then I get home and hangout with the girls. Mlle. Yee knows about whole thing with M. Paff so she asks about it. Then later that night, he messages me on Skype again and the conversation goes like this:


[10/9/2011 9:09:18 PM] M. Paff: lemme ask u sumthing
[10/9/2011 9:09:30 PM] Me: ask away
[10/9/2011 9:09:42 PM] M. Paff: am i an idiot
[10/9/2011 9:09:51 PM] Me: yeah
[10/9/2011 9:09:56 PM] M. Paff: k :/
[10/9/2011 9:10:23 PM] Me: would you rather that I lie?
[10/9/2011 9:45:40 PM] M. Paff: cool.
[10/9/2011 9:46:47 PM] Me: are you hurt?
[10/9/2011 9:48:08 PM] M. Paff: why am i an idiot
[10/9/2011 9:52:38 PM] Me: I feel like you don't value our friendship as much as you should
[10/9/2011 9:53:43 PM] Me: Like, you replying "k" and "..." makes it seems like you don't want to talk to me and makes me feel like a nuisance for bothering you
[10/9/2011 9:54:31 PM]Me: But in general, you just say the wrong things sometimes
[10/9/2011 9:56:09 PM] M. Paff: ur like the 3rd person 2 say im an idiot
[10/9/2011 9:56:14 PM] M. Paff: or that im below them
[10/9/2011 9:56:16 PM] M. Paff: or im a retard
[10/9/2011 9:56:21 PM] M. Paff: or im scum
[10/9/2011 9:56:23 PM] Me: I'm not saying you're below me
[10/9/2011 9:56:25 PM] M. Paff: in the past 2 days
[10/9/2011 9:56:27 PM] Me: or you're a retard or a scum
[10/9/2011 9:57:23 PM] Me: like, you don't treat people the way they should be treated
[10/9/2011 9:57:43 PM] Me: are you okay?
[10/9/2011 10:08:29 PM] Me: I feel like if I was really a good friend, I should come over right now because you seriously don't sound okay
[10/9/2011 10:08:40 PM] Me: but then sometimes you don't want me there
[10/9/2011 10:17:41 PM] M. Paff: im sure
[10/9/2011 10:19:03 PM] Me: do you want me over?
[10/9/2011 10:19:08 PM] M. Paff: no
[10/9/2011 10:19:14 PM] Me: k
[10/9/2011 10:19:17 PM] Me: are you feeling better?
[10/9/2011 10:19:19 PM] M. Paff: no

And when I thought I was done with him, he pulls shit like this. Like, leaving him now would mean that I'm a bad friend, that I'm only there when times are good. I'm trying. Believe me. I'm trying. But it's so hard when the other person is unresponsive and isn't willing to communicate at all.


Let me tell you something. Bitching out feels so good. I bitch out to Mlle. Chu and Mlle. Yee and they totally listen. Mlle. Yee thinks he should make more of an effort, and Mlle. Chu thinks I shouldn't abandon him now. Then we talk about Mlle. Chu's problem. I'd love to have her problem than my problem.

But Mlle. Nguyen's problem is the worst. I come back from the bathroom to Mlle. Yee awkwardly chatting with M. Nikitin on Skype while Mlle. Nguyen cries silently next to our laundry.I hug her and try to comfort her, but she seems so upset. Then I signals Mlle. Yee to cut off the conversation so we can deal with Mlle. Nguyen first.

Poor thing. She misses her mom and her old friends and the ways things used to be over the summer. Me too...well, the last part though. And her whole problem with M. Nikitin is just a giant mess, especially since we're mutual friends. She's sleeping over and since Mlle. Yee and I are both sick, we're sharing a bed.

M. Nikitin's given me and Mlle. Yee some medicine for our flu. I hope it works cause we're doing major bonding over boiling water and getting the packages open without scissors late at night in the dark while trying to not make a sound.

Some days are for living. Others are for getting through.

So yesterday was weird day. It was rainy. And I lost my phone--the love of my life--in the lecture hall. That was just like, my day just went out the window.

Obviously, I was really upset, so I went back to the dorm room and M. Paff was on, and I told him. He said that I should contact the PD. I did. Then he wanted us to get lunch. Well, the day before, I had lunch with M. Nikitin in the kitchen. He brought tea. I brought soup. And I didn't want to eat in my room, so I said yeah. I came out at the appointed time and M. Paff was walking toward me with an umbrella. I think we shared an umbrella walking there. It was a nice lunch.

Since it was still raining REALLY HARD, Mlle. Nguyen, Mlle. Yee, and I decide to eat dinner in our room. Mlle. Yee and I made food while Mlle. Nguyen took a long-ass nap; she's been working really hard, so we let her sleep for a long time. Then my roomie and I just watched New Girl and The Lying Game while eating. When Mlle. Nguyen got up, we were done and were back to doing our homework and studying.

Mlle. Nguyen was using my laptop and I was on my bed studying, and M. Paff Skyped her, saying, "I'm horny," and of course, Mlle. Nguyen read it outloud. I tried to play it cool, but it was definitely awkward. Mlle. Nguyen replied, "Dtf?" and he asked if I wanted to play. I told Mlle. Nguyen she should play instead, and she did. Well, Mlle. Nguyen played on my laptop since I wanted to see how a good person played. Mlle. Yee was just amused by all the cussing and hate fest directed toward M. Paff.

She played with M. Paff and Mlle. Mayeda, and M. Paff was talking to this kid from his hall. My God, sometimes I just wish I'm deaf to some things, you know? The way they were referring to their exes and some of the girls in their hall was horrible. I didn't like that.

Then, at 11:30, I think I said I wanted Cha, so M. Paff said he wanted Cha too, and Mlle. Nguyen said she wanted Cha also, so the three of us came over to M. Paff's room to get him and we all walked to Cha together. We got Cha and walked around. It was pretty cool, more so because it was so late at night. Then we all went to his room to show his hallmates what a pimp he was and just watched funny videos.

Not gonna lie, like, the whole time, there were a lot of accidental...or not so accidental...touching. When we were walking together, he lightly punched me and asked if I was staying this weekend. Then when were were outside of Cha drinking tea, we sat next to each other and sometimes my knee would touch his whenever I adjusted. Like, I was trying to not do it so much because I really did not--and still don't--want to get more involved with him than I already am (or is it "was"? Whatevs). Then when we were watching the videos, I was standing behind his chair and leaning into it. I hope he didn't take that the wrong way. But sometimes I would reach up for the mouse, and he would put his hand closer to it. Then when I was leaving, he awkwardly patted me on the shoulder and said, "bye", and, of course, didn't walk me and Mlle. Yee home.

And then today! Oh my God, don't even get me started. I almost cockblock someone today. Mlle. Nguyen. She's been ignoring M. Nikitin and it's so awkward hanging out with the two of them. Since Mlle. Nguyen isn't going to the capture the flag game, I go and get M. Nikitin and he invites us in and guess who's in the closet? Mlle. Nguyen. Later, in my room after Mlle. Yee and M. Nikitin have left to get something, I find out that she's gotten there a few minutes before we come in and interrupt. Then I try to get them to leave. Mlle. Yee doesn't know, but she wants tea, so I tell M. Nikitin to go get tea, and he says Mlle. Nguyen should go with him. Perfect. So they go and I tell Mlle. Yee the whole story and we text him saying that M. Paff's had an emotional breakdown so we've gone to his room, and don't bother coming back.

Good deed of the day.

Then I play LoL and M. Paff goes on. He's rude to me, so I end the call. Then I just play by myself, and Mlle. Nguyen comes back pretty late. So, they've a few minutes together alone before Mlle. Pages brings the whole goddamn gang in the room. Cockblocked twice. Not a good day for her. She's obviously very upset about it, but she doesn't show it much. We only know cause she jumps on my bed and starts wiping tears off of her face. Then she leaves for Evenstar.

M. Paff comes back on and wants to play. I'm just like, "Okay, whatever," and we play. He's had a pretty shitty night too.

This week's been bad, period.

Did I mention that I lost my phone?

Depression is when you have lots of love, but no one's taking.

I've figured out that the horrible feeling I've been getting is not because of M. Paff's absence. It's me. It's depression, and it's horrible. I have a gnawing feeling in my stomach like something'll go wrong, except the sensation is constant.

My hallmates and I've gone to the beach after class. I've gotten pretty close with this girl from across the hall. Her name is Mlle. Chu. It's not that fun, at least not for me, because I've been feeling like shit the whole day. The whole goddamn day...I've been soo fucking depressed and lonely even though I'm almost always surrounded by people. It's not the same.

Mlle. Yee, my roommate, has gone home for the weekend so I get the room to myself. Yay. Not really. I miss her company. I hate going to bed alone because she always stays up later and always turns the lights off after I've gone to bed.

Then I go back to my room and talk to M. Dow. God, I miss talking to him. He cheers me right up and tells me how his girlfriend wants to get back together. Then I almost decide to not go to the mixer because I don't feel like getting out of the room, but dancing cures shit, so I decide to go.

My god. I totally need that. It's great. I try calling M. Paff a million times, but he doesn't pick up and I leave millions of messages telling him to come out since his Facebook status says he's not in a good mood. Plus, I kind of want to dance with him. Anyways, he doesn't pick up, but I have a great time regardless.

Then we go back and hangout in the common room. M. Paff finally Skypes me back and tells me what's wrong. Poor baby.

Then me and the rest of the hall watch Catch Me If You Can in my room. Last time I watched that movie, I got plenty of action. Not this time though.

Then Mlle. K Nguyen comes in and tells me she's been sexiled. I'm like, "Come sleep here!" and she's like, "Oh, I'm sleeping in the guys' room," and I'm like, "[M. Nikitin]'s?" and she's like, "Fuck no. I'm so done with that bitch." Apparently they've gotten into a huge fight over nothing and she just doesn't give a shit anymore. I wonder how long before me and M. Paff get that way.

All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling.

M. Paff and I had another fight. I manned up and apologized even though it wasn't really my fault. I started to feel really upset when he replied with "apology accepted". I was just like, "THAT'S IT? THAT'S ALL YOU HAVE TO TELL ME?" but then he apologized too. That's good. If he didn't apologize, I think we would have been done.

My grandma is in a coma. No one bothered to tell me until she got really bad. What the fuck? Yesterday, my dad left the country to be by her side. I feel bad for my grandpa. He's gonna lose his only companion, and you can tell he really, totally loves her even though she has dementia and she's bawdy and vulgar and sometimes hits on him in front of us. I don't know how I feel about this. I know her, but right now, she doesn't feel like a real person to me. Hardly anyone feels real right now. I once again revert to thinking that everyone's programmed except for me.

My mom and brother are helping me move in. I don't know how I feel about that.

A few more weeks then I'm done with this blog and onto another one. I think toward the end, I've drifted a bit far away from the people I've given/will give access to this blog, and I no longer feel comfortable with them reading my private and sometimes insane thoughts and feelings and my countless and erroneous assumptions and predictions.

Love your enemies just in case your friends turn out to be a bunch of bastards.

M. Paff is driving me INSANE! Oh, my FUCKING God! He's gone almost completely reticent; he's not like that normally.

I text him saying, "How come you don't talk to me anymore?" He gets defensive and accuses me of sounding like his girlfriend and I'm like, No, I just wanna know why we don't talk anymore. He says, "Cause shit happens." When I ask him about the "shit" he says he's going to bed. What the fuck?

Then I say, "I hope you have nightmares, shitwhore," because we always call each other stupid names like that, but he thinks I really mean that. I say, no, I don't mean that, and he says "BS...you're pissed that I haven't been online and now you're pissed that I'm going to bed." Well, I'm pissed, but I don't hope you have nightmares.


Why can't he just say it instead of avoiding the issue? Avoiding it won't make it go away.

I'll be so pissed if it stems from the fact that we kissed. Or if he had some stupid dream where I did some messed up things to him.

Depression is melancholy minus its charms - the animation, the fits.

I need to be around other people. I've started to develop dangerous thoughts--suicidal thoughts. I've been entertaining the notion that other people aren't real and conscious; the connections I've made with people are slowly being dissolved. It's awfully lonely being the only conscious person. It's really a chore to keep living and experiencing the ups and downs of life. There's just no point.

I don't want to age. I never want to grow old and look back at young people and knowing you'll never have that ever again. I'm gradually losing my youth right now.

I want to die quick and fast. A swift move and no pain at all. A coward's death.

It's alright. I'm not at that point where the contemplation of suicide morphs to planning yet. This is low, but I've been lower. I don't think I can get as low as I did the summer before junior year. That was crazy. I never want to go back to those days. I'm going to UCI orientation tomorrow; being around people will take my mind off of thinking. I'll be okay.

I hope I live past this hormonal stage. I think--I'm hoping, praying, wishing--that all my feelings right now stem from the flood of hormones the human body is subjected to at this age. If this is the case, then it means that I have an escape.

The trouble with having a stubbornness contest with your kids is that they have your stubbornness gene.

My car broke down. I'm incredibly pissed. Grrr. It's an old car...it's understandable, but now my legs are broken and I have no way of getting around.

Mlle. Velasco signed my yearbook today. She blamed herself for our drifting apart. It was weird because in her yearbook, I said that I held her blameless for it. We simply grew up and grew apart, but she felt so bad about it. She wrote a whole page, but I only wrote a little bit in hers. Once I saw that, I quickly got hers back and wrote more in, but they were all memories from sophomore and junior years.

My God, my MOTHER. I cannot stand her. She wants to send my little brother to boarding school! What the fuck? She's just trying to escape her maternal responsibilities. She says that we're burdens, but "good" burdens. No burden's good burden. That's bullshit. Poor thing. He doesn't want to go, so he cries, and she tells him to man up and stop crying. I feel part responsible for it. Ever since I've been "acting out," she's been gradually switching her affection to my brother. While in my presence, she emphasizes that she loves him "the most" now. It's like she taking her claws out of me and digging them into him. But she won't make the same mistake twice. She'll make sure to brainwash him more thoroughly than she did me. She'll make sure he won't have any other aspirations than those she has for him. He won't be able to escape.

It sounds horrible, but I'd rather it be him than me. That's incredibly heart-wrenching, but it's the complete and honest truth. I'll try to help as much as I can once I'm out, but if it means being trapped again, I'm booking it.

107 more days until I move out.

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

My mother...Oh. My GOD.

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

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

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

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

Yup.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Man is harder than rock and more fragile than an egg.

It never occurred to me that other people go through identity crisis too. I always thought that only emo people and me had that kind of problems.

Like, M. Dow...I never would have thought that he is the person he is  from the first glance.He's the completely opposite of what I was expecting. But we opened up and he told me all those things about him and his problems.

And then I read M. Ward's accumulation of problems today. It's quite terrible, but it's a bit like mine, only so much more intense. Poor thing. I'd love to help, but I don't know how.

Funny thing was...right before I started reading it, Mlle. Pearson, this girl in our AP Art class found it funny--ridiculous, in  fact--that I asked the people around about those moral dilemma questions. You know, there are people like her who just kind of cruise through life all happy. And then there are people like M. Dow,  M. Ward, and I. Why can't we live like that? 

I'm not saying I'm incredibly intelligent and philosophical, but sometimes it seems like having the ability of think is almost like being cursed, being born a human is an unfortunate event. We're "blessed" with consciousness to feel all the things we don't want to feel like frustration, anxiety, emptiness, hopelessness, loneliness, etc. But then again, we also enjoy the good things in life, but I can't really think of any right now.

I remember several years ago, a monk was lecturing on how fortunate we were for being born human, and I remember thinking, "I'd rather be that ugly-ass plecs fish. Sure, it's eating waste from the other fishes, but it doesn't know any better. If it tastes good to it, then it shouldn't matter. It's happy where it is with how it is. Not like us."

Now, I kind of don't think that way anymore.. Sure, it'd be nice to not know any better, but knowledge is power. It's been given to me, and if I don't use it, it'd be a waste. I only have this life once. Might as well make the most out of it.

I gave a ride to a random stranger today. Non sequitur.

I know I've been bitching about how I want this year to be over, but now that it's getting close, I want it to last just a bit more. I hate getting into habits and schedules because I feel so nostalgic looking back and remembering. Like, for the past few days and weeks, I've been coming home from school and talking to Mlle. Jang and M. Dow on Skype for hours, listening to classical music, and updating this blog. All this will end in about two weeks. I'll be working all summer. I don't know how college will go.

It just seems like, yeah, I welcome change and all that, but I was in Mme. Kennedy's room today and thought, "In a few days, I probably will never see this classroom again. I will never walk in these hallways again." All the things that I've grown accustomed to...they'll all be gone soon. There's this sinking feeling in my stomach. I don't want to let it go, but I know I have to, I want to let it go because I'll be on to bigger and better things. 

But it's a bit sad and hard to let go. Well, really sad, actually...to let something go after you've been used to it for so long...says that girl who's willing to throw everything and everyone a few months ago.

Anyways, I thought about my plan to study abroad in London and how I was just going to drop the bomb at the airport. That's not very different from running away. It's a childish thing to do. The adult thing to do would be to inform my mother and stand my ground, and I will do just that. I won't let her be in control of my life anymore. I don't want to go through life feeling like a doll and empty and commit suicide by age 30.

I've discovered that if you say, "I'm thirty years old" in a British accent, it's the saddest thing ever. Oh, God. Thirty. I never want to turn thirty.

Anyways, I've also discovered that being pretty has it advantages. Many, actually. And I'm not even like, the prettiest girl out there. Not even close. Cars stop for me more often. People let me cut in line (not because I ask). People just help me out when I need help when I don't ask for it. Like, it's great. For example, today, it was very windy, and, being a student in Mme. Berman's class, I have a folder full of crap mixed in with stuff I actually need, I was carrying my English folder in such a way that everything fell out and flew all over. I just stood there in shock at what I've just done, but almost all the people around me stopped what they were doing to grab my papers. There were so many, just flying in the wind. I'd walk for a few steps and someone would come up and hand me paper. It was nice. Unlike how things were years before, when the same thing happened and no one stopped to help. Like, literally nobody. 

It's good for me, but it's very unfair. I read this book a while ago and the main character was an ugly duckling in middle school, but she cleared up her acne and got hot for high school. One of the things she said was that pretty girls got head starts. Head starts, indeed.

Haha. This is a bad picture.

Speaking of Skype, I was talking to Mlle. Jang and watching a video at the same time. And I fell asleep. Oopsie. For two hours!

Mlle. Jang seems so lucky. She has parents who support what she does. She's allowed room and freedom and is provided with a protective environment to grow as a person. I asked her if she had any identity issues or stuff like that, and after she told me, I felt even more oppressive by my family.

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.

Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.

M. Dow told me more about his mother's relationships. From what I can tell, they kind of really messed up how he views women and girls. The whole time he talked, I didn't know what to say because when I tell him about my parents and stuff, my problems just seemed so trivial compared to his. I'm just glad he's NOT like Mlle. Yasakova and doesn't say things like, "I wish I have your problems."

Anyways, I kind of told Mlle. Jang about M. Dow more and more. I told him about the above in details since I know she sympathizes with him, which she did. Dang, she was on Skype with me for from 9 to 11:30. I was talking to her and chatting with M. Dow at the same time. Then Mlle. Jang suggested that we did the rating game. Most of my friends got 5s from M. Dow--WTF?--even though Mlle. Jang and I picked out really pictures of them.

I find it a lot easier to open up to people now that I've opened up to M. Dow, but I really think it depends on the person. Like, Mlle. Jang is a good person to talk to. Mlle. Smith is a different matter. Even though I hangout with her everyday, I find it very hard to talk to her about serious subjects, so we almost always talk about other people. It's kind of a shallow relationship, what we have.

Today, Mme. Mills took the AP Studio Art kids to Starbucks for the first two periods and bought us coffee. It was "supposed to be" an Artists' Walk, where we go and get inspiration. NOT. We just drank coffee and socialized, which was nice because Mlles. Jang and Smith and I got to know M. Purwadi a bit better. I always knew he was a character, but I didn't know that he was also a fun person to have a decent conversation with either.

Steak Night tomorrow! Whoot whoot!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That's why it's a comfort to go hand in hand.

I wonder if I live vicariously through M. Dow. I sure hope not. He's a pleasant person to talk to, but I'd hate to become obsessively attached to him.

At first, I showed him songs from Amelie and he showed me classical music and this screamo song that was actually pretty good. Then...

We discussed his kinky sexual habits. Jesus, he's very adventurous and experimental between the sheets. And on the other end of the spectrum, there are people like me.

We went from there and got to the topic of marriage. I said I didn't want to not get married because then I would feel like my relationship wasn't stable. He said if he could find a compatible person, he would marry her if that's what she wanted. He said he'd married me if I wanted; he did admit that the scenario was far fetch but not impossible. I said we wouldn't be compatible. He said he thought that we were. I said that he'd be the one thinking for the two of us while I'd be in the corner just following along. He said that he was trying to get me to think for myself, but I could feel his influence whether he extended them or not.

I swear to God, he looks so clean cut and innocent, like someone I would bring home to meet the parents, but he's totally not. Like, my parents would be fooled and they would love him though. The bunch of them don't like black people, are homophobic, don't believe in welfare, and think whites and Asians are the best. Plus, he's atheist and he's a musical genius, so it's perfect. My mother would love him.

Except I feel like he's leading me down the road of depravity. He doesn't believe in honor. He believes that we were born simply to have children to preserve the human race, and everything else in life is just decorations. Well, that's lovely, but having children is definitely not my main goal in life. I believe in honor. I definitely believe in honor.

Speak of which, I found out today that Mlle. Connelly, who is Catholic and was supposed to wait for marriage, actually had already had sex. Like, she was reluctant, but the way she told it was like he pressured her into doing it. She said their whole relationship was based on sex. She told me to wait and that she regretted not waiting.

It just seems like we are forced to grow up too fast. M. Dow says sex isn't a big deal, and yeah, it's convincing when it's told from a guy's perspective and over the Internet. But here is my good friend, one of us, a part of me, being forced and pressured into having sex. I don't think girls can separate affection from sex like guys can. It's just not the same. I know I'm not the most authoritative person to speak about this subject, but I don't like it. Not one bit. I said she should dump him. She's too good for him. He'll only cripple her and drag her down.

So...M. Lythgoe. What is up with that kid? The office girl came today in math class to deliver notes, and M. Lythgoe got one. Yeah, so what? Big deal. But he let out a loud "whoot." I couldn't help but turned around and looked. He made eye contact with me and looked at me as he smiled and said, "I'd never gotten one before." Of course, I couldn't help it and smiled, but I averted my eyes and returned to my task. He left the class. While he was gone, the class was broken up into groups of four to work on the FRQ's from last week's AP Test (oh, God. Why couldn't we just left it be?). He came back and joined my group even though my group already had four people while Mlle. Pillado's group only had three. I didn't talk to him much because I resolved to give him the cold shoulder when I found out he asked Mlle. Pillado to Prom. Mme. Kennedy later took him from our group and had him form another group with Mlle. Yun from our class to work on the last problem.

I hate how boys give mixed signals. Either you like me or you don't. Stop jerking my chains. But that's okay if he tries because I won't let him disturb my chains the second time around.

I am now friends with M. Reyniers on Facebook. Yup. Exciting news.

Sometimes we're so concerned about giving our children what we never had growing up, we neglect to give them what we did have growing up.

M. Dow and I talked again today. Surprise surprise.

It's kind of amazing that I can talk to him about anything. Like, I never thought that I could open up to another human being like that. Especially a boy. Especially a boy like M. Dow.

I told him about some of the things I've wrote about on this blog. About how I sometimes feel like I have no identity; like, I don't know who I am. I know I'm supposed to be, but I don't want to be that person. I've told someone that as long as I keep up my facade, it'll continue to act as a shell to cover the emptiness that's inside. It's sad to think that I'm empty inside. I have my mother imposing her will on me at home, and I have expectations for me at school.

I can't wait until next year, where I'll be away from my mother, friends, and their expectations, and just start growing as a person. I'm already 18. I thought this transformation was supposed to be done and over with.

I have a friend, Mlle. Karch, who is amazingly intelligent and beautiful, except she doesn't think so. She always says that I am pretty, and she always looks like she's embarrassed about herself when she says it. Like, I just so so so glad that no matter how intelligent she is, she still can't read minds. If we were to strip down, bare and naked; no clothes with flattering cuts, no tights that accentuate lengths, no sweaters that conceal curves, no make-up, nothing...we wouldn't even be on the same level. It's weird to think of people looking at me when I'm unclothed, but I just feel like they wouldn't give me a second glance if that was the case. Like, I'm not a lesbian or a bisexual or anything, but I even get amazed, and I'm a girl. She doesn't even wear make-up, and sometimes when we're talking, I'd just interrupt her and say, "You're so pretty; I'm jealous."

But thank God we live in a shallow and materialistic world where minor tricks and gimmicks mask emptiness and ugliness. But only for a while. I seriously need to grow as a person.

M. Dow told me that I was interesting to talk to when I told him all that. I was like, "WHAT?! I know you're sleepy, but if you're that delirious, go to bed." He says he likes talk to me because I'm a contemplative person and he likes to hear my thoughts. I like to hear my thoughts too. When I try to voice them, they come out awkward. He sums it up nice and tidy for me.

I wonder how long our little thing will last? He must get bored of talking to such an insecure girl sooner or later, and he already told me earlier that he found insecurity very unattractive.

I thought I was done with the headband craze (I owned more than ten different headbands at the beginning of this year; that number is gradually decreasing thanks to a little thing call inertia), but now I seriously want to buy more headbands. Like, no joke.

Guess who I parked next to today at the place to take the Calc. AP test? Who else but M. Lythgoe and his giant-ass truck? He keeps looking at me. If he has something to say, he should say it.

There is a great relief in experiencing the worst vicariously.

M. Dow and I talked for three hours straight yesterday. That's the longest time I've ever seriously talked to anybody. I really do enjoy talking to him even if he's homophobic. He's just very open. Like, you know how girls are looking for Mr. Right? Well, me too, but not Mr. Right All the Time (ha-ha. I'm so funny I crack myself up). But having a Mr. Right All the Time to turn to for advices and stuff? Isn't that, like, perfect or what?

I gotta stop saying like. I sound so dumb when I do, but I feel like my speech is naked when I don't.

Today, we talked for an hour. Well, not really. It was actually a pretty boring hour. He was texting and I was listening to Ed Sheeran. He told me (on and off) about this girl that he really liked and showed me a picture, but I think she looks like a skank. Not because I'm jealous. It's just how I feel. But maybe she looks horrible in pictures. I know how that feels. I'll just trust his judgement on her prettiness since he uses that same scale when he tells me I'm pretty. Anyways, I got bored, so I feigned sleepy and ended the call.

Then I uploaded some of my Concentration pieces to the College Board website. Like, that whole time, I could feel depression creeping up on me again. Like, it's this feeling where something is clawing at the top of my stomach, an inch below the sternum, trying to climb up my esophagus. It's not a pleasant feeling. I hate it. I hate the warmer weather that always seems to trigger it. I need to go somewhere nice and cold all the time.

Then M. Dow video called me again and we talked for another hour. Like, actually talked this time. I told him about my mom and how her attachment issues. He was telling me stuff, and, all of the sudden, I started tearing up. I excused myself and went to the bathroom to wipe my tears. I knew it wasn't noticeable that I had tears in my eyes because I looked at my part of the screen right before and tried to act as normally as possible, but when I came back, he apologized for making me feel upset. Honestly, I'm getting my period soon. I always get depressed and become an emotional wreck right before, but the second part is a bit more manageable since I know about it. Anyways, we talked about depression, and he told me some really personal thing that I won't mention on here since M. Giusti will read it when I'm done with this blog at the end of the summer and I won't feel right indirectly telling someone someone else's secret. Like, yeah, I gossip. Not gonna lie, but this is different. It's not like, oh, that weirdo Johnny says he likes our Sarah; he says not to tell her; like hell we're not going to tell. It's not like that. It's like, deep stuff.

Anyways, I tell him how I sometimes feel lonely. Like, I just feel like people here aren't on my wavelength and they're not on mine. Yesterday, M. Dow showed me a video explaining how the string theory works and explained it to me more when I got lost. This morning, I asked Mlle. Smith if she knew about the string theory, and the first thing out of her was, "It's retarded." I barely finished my sentence. I was just so appalled. I asked her how it is retarded and she said, "I don't know. It's just retarded."

It's kind of cliché, but I just died a little bit right there. Like, this is my best friend. The one person that I'm closest with. Just dismissing something like this just because she doesn't understand it. I'm feel bad talking about my own best friend like this, but she just seems so ignorant to me right then.

Anyways, so I told him that I've got no one to talk to about things that I want to talk about, and he was like, "Well, you can talk to me." I smiled, of course, because I'm always smiling, and said thank you. Then I went on and described how I envision my ideal best girl friend to be. Like, I want her to look kind of like me...like, we could be taken for twins or sisters. Our appearance would compliment each other's. She'd be on the same wavelength as me. So, I told him and he said that I was way too idealistic and I'd just end up disappointed in the end. Then I got teary-eyed again and he looked like he felt so bad, but I told him, so we were good.

I shouldn't have promised M. Giusti access to this blog. It's become an edited, fragmented, and impartial representation of my life and feelings. I've just realized that today when I chose not to put in M. Dow's reasons for being depressed.

Anyways, I've picked my five Quality pieces.

The last one was fought over when a copy went on sale. I'm so incredibly flattered, so I told my mother. She said something like, who in their right mind would pay money for that photo? Like, my mood was so good before, and the moment she said, it's just like, I need to get out of here. But she stayed and asked me where Mlle. Velasco was going next year. I told her SBCC, and she was like, "Why?" I was like, well, she wants to get out of the city but she still doesn't want to pay a lot, that's why. And she was like, "Kids over here are so traitorous. What about her mother and all those kids?" I'm sorry, but it was her mother's decision to have those kids and her responsibilities shouldn't be left to Mlle. Velasco to sacrifice her youth the way my mother's asking me to sacrifice mine. God, now I'm all pissed off.

M. Dow thinks my mother is living vicariously through me. I suspected as much. I just want her to leave me live my own life, free from her interference. I want to be financially stable first, though, before I confront her. She'd thrown me out before over something ridiculous before. I'm planning to go abroad Junior year in college and I think that's when I'm doing it. I'll be calling from the airport and be all, "Hey, I'm going to England in a few minutes. See ya in a couple of months. K. Bye!" and deal with the consequences when I come back.

Eff this. My mother needs to get her own life. I feel so frustrated.

The worst things in life come free to us.

I can feel depression creeping on me. I don't know why. It's scary. I never want to go through it again.

Sometimes, I wish I could just sleep to past time. I hate waking up.

Anyways, let's move onto a brighter and happier topic...such as love. I am in love. I am absolutely, hopelessly, and head over heels in love with Ed Sheeran, a British singer/songwriter. He's hilarious, sweet, and real at the same time. If you look up his pictures, he looks kind of chubby and not that cute, but if you watch him singing, he's adorable and witty. That British accent helps of course. It always does.

I've decided. I'm marrying a sexy British man and have adorable British children.

I've blocked the masked guy on both Facebook and Skype. He has no way of contacting me. I feel bad, but he just makes me uncomfortable, assuming that we are closer than we really are. He always calls me "sweetie" and "cutie", and stuff like that makes the guy seems like a skeaze. Is "skeaze" really not a word? "Jason, why are you such a skeaze?" It was in Mean Girls. It's a word.

On Sunday, my mother got into a car accident. The van is totally totaled, so she and my dad have been driving my Lexus around, which means I no longer have legs for Star Testings Week. All of my plans for this week has been canceled. At least my mother is okay.

I've been with killer headaches all week. I wonder why. My dad says it's cause I don't eat enough me. WRONG. I've been eating nothing but meat and fish products even since I received my rejection letter from Barnard. Maybe that's why.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If minutes were kept of a family gathering, they would show that "Members not Present" and "Subjects Discussed" were one and the same.

I can feel my nonchalance wearing off. I got rejected from NYU ( I KNOW!) but got deferred to NYU Poly, which, in a sense, is an extension of NYU, but it does not have my major: Neuroscience. I can always take Biomedical Engineering, but that's not what I want. I'm so freaked out and depressed.

Barnard will reject me, I know it, yet somewhere in the back of my mind, there's still foolish hopes and dreams that they won't. I feel like crying right now because if I don't get in, I'll have to go to UC Davis or NYU Poly. I don't know. Things would just untangle if I get into Barnard.

My mother thinks I want to go as far away as possible since I'm choosing Davis over Irvine and applied to all those schools on the East Coast. No duh. I want out, and getting into Barnard will give me the ticket. That's why it's so so so very important for Barnard to accept me. Everything about it is just perfect, and it just needs to accept me.

My mom's forcing me to go to Irvine now. That's complete BS. I'm going to be living there for four years and I need to like where I'll be. I don't want to finally escape her and be reeled back on weekends just like that. I hate Irvine so much more now just because she endorses it.

My dad is on my side. For now. I hope he'll remain on my side and not go off to the dark side.

Everyday, I see girls who do normal things, like going out with friends and talking on the phone, and things that they love doing, like dancing, and I get incredibly jealous because their families support what they do. I have to do this, I have to do that. When I offer an opinion, I'm told it's not appreciated because I'm too young and naive to have an opinion on everything. When I ask to participate in something I like, it's disregarded as being unnecessary. She hates it when I go out with friends and would give me a hard time about it. When I do volunteer stuff, she would rush me home or comment on how often I do it. I hate that.

But to be fair, I mean, I can see where she's coming from. She's raised in a family-centric culture, so me going out with friends and stuff is weird for her. I mean, she has friends, but she hung out with her sisters more since there are like, six of them. She also grew up poor which strengthens familial bonds because people who go through tough time together bond because they have the same common enemy: adversity.  She was more intelligent than all of my aunts, so she saw things differently and knew that she was different then the other girls who only lived to doll themselves up. Beauty fades, but knowledge remains, so she always pushes her children to get the best education they possibly can.

When I was growing up, I was a funny looking child. I'm skinny to the point where looks bony ever since I could remember, so growing up, I was a little bit on the uglier side compared to my two cousins of the same age, who grew up all pretty. My sister, who was supposed to support me, made sure that I knew I was ugly whenever I tried to make myself pretty and would always try to get on my cousins' good side. Well, I turned to studying because that was what I was good at, and that was how I got attention, but I isolated myself in the process. No one seems to be on my wavelength, but they're on on each other's, so it's like I'm an outsider in my own family anyways. But with that education, I know--hope, wish, pray--that there is more to life that just studying for years and years and years to become a doctor only to put it on hold to start a family. I don't want that for myself. I want something different. I want to travel, to feast my eyes on the wonderful world around me so I have something to look back at when I'm older. But traveling means ripping myself from the family.

She just condemns me for trying to break apart, but she's done the same thing! She moves us up here, an hour and a half--without traffic--away from where the main family lives. I've seen how clingy and intrusive it is. My cousins' relationships are forever under attack from the aunts, my mother included, simply because the girls are not who they have chosen. I don't want my boyfriend to have to go through that. I don't want to look back on my relationships and wonder if things would have been better if they'd let us be.

Well, actually, I'd just realized something. I'm not an emotional person, but I've been crying non-stop since nine. It is now about half past eleven. You know what this mean? I'm getting my period pretty soon. Goddamn it.

I think this is actually not as complicated as it seems. I just need to get into Barnard and all the problems would be solved.

So, Barnard, please please please please please accept me.

I did not have three thousand pairs of shoes, I had one thousand and I did not have three thousand pairs of shoes, I had one thousand and sixty.

Poor M. Ward. He's been rejected from UCSB because of his excessive absence sophomore year--thanks, mono. While Mlle. Jang and Mlle. Lanter are waitlisted, he is outright rejected and seems to be taking it quite hard. I found this out yesterday and felt quite bad because a few hours before, I told him that he shouldn't worry and that stupider people have gotten in. I got his hopes up so I must be responsible for its crash.

So, the next morning (which is this morning), I went to Burger Barn to buy him a breakfast burrito since he always seems to want one when I have one. I bought Mlle. Smith one too since I owe her money and this would even us out. And then I completely forgot about Mlle. Jang, who would have paid me back. Oh, well. It's funny because my orders at Burger Barn are so specific ( two breakfast burritos with only salsa, cheese, and eggs) the staff remember me, which is nice of them and flattering as well. When I ordered the extra burritos from M. Ward and Mlle. Smith, the guy in the back who works the kitchen who I didn't even know that knows I exist (if that makes sense) came to the front and said, "Changing it up, huh?" and the girl at the register knows my name. It's a very good feeling. I will make sure to find out their names as well.

When I got to school, I gave M. Ward his burrito, and he tried to pay me back for it, but I didn't take his money. Later, he thanked me and gave me a hug. Well, M. Ward knows how to hug. Sometimes, I wish all the guys were like him. The world would be a much more inspiring place.

So, I've been obsessing with lace a bit too much lately. I think it's sexy and provocative in a classy way. I already have two LBDs, but if I were to buy another, I would try and find one that is long-sleeved with a scoop neck (a crew neck is okay too, but I personally prefer scoop necks). It is backless, in a way, because the lace will span the back and connect with the fabric (maybe wool crepe) at the small of the back and the shoulders. The result will be this simply sophisticated that needs no further accesory that I will wear over and over and over again.

Before Anchor Blue closed down, I went and bought, oh, I don't know, only five million white XL t-shirts from them because I liked the material and I was planning to make my own T-shirts. I made one for Mlle. Smith as a Christmas present and really liked how it turned out. So, now I have a bunch in my closet, and I haven't been inspired yet until like, five minutes ago. I want something simple but very eye-catching. This will do.

I don't want mushy stuff like a heart or love. I want my shirts to be simple yet grand at the same time. A peace sign is good, no?

We dissected a cow's eyeball today. It was so awesome. We got one that was really meaty, so this other girl and I hacked away until only the eyeball is left. We did the regular stuff, and the best part about it all was the tapetum lucidum, this thing that reflects light back into the eyeball that allows the animals to have superior night vision.

Barnard. What to do about Barnard? I really do believe in ESP now. My brain just feels depressed when I think of Barnard, and, it's hard to put it into words, but I think the brain is going into this mode where it is indifferent about everything, to prepare me for probably the biggest rejection and disappointment of my life. Just kidding. The greatest disappointment will be saved for medical school applications.

The Friday that M. Lythgoe asked Mlle. Pillado to Prom, I wanted to have the line "today is the day when dreaming ends" from the song One Day I'll Fly Away (Reprise) from Moulin Rouge. In the beginning, she sings, "Why live life/from dream to dream/and dread the day/when dreaming ends," because she was just ready to go away from the whole courtesan life that she had. And then she fell in love with Christian, and when their love was threatened, they made plans to go away, you know, the whole shebang. Then she found out that she had tuberculosis and that if the Duke couldn't have her, he'd have Christian killed. So, she had to make him believe that she didn't love him. So, she sang the Reprise before going to tell him that the plan was off since the Duke offered her riches poor Christian couldn't.

That scene is very heartbreaking. I cried. Like, really hard. So, I was going to put that for my quote, but then I was like, actually, I'm going to save that from the day that I get rejected from Barnard because it fits better there. I mean, it's just M. Lythgoe. Sure, he's cute and I'm kind of attracted to him, but he just doesn't matter much because I don't even like him that much. Gotta put things in perspective.

I've been drinking NON-SWEETENED tea since yesterday since I kind of blew that off a month in because I ran out of chamomile tea and had to drink yucky cinnamon and apple cider tea instead. That stuff is nasty without, I don't know, ten tablespoons of sugar. So, to get back on track to detoxing and cleansing my body for Prom, I've picked up my tea habit with:

which has chamomile, blossom, and, best of all, rose petals, which makes it taste kind of like rosewater--or what I imagine rose water to taste like based on its smell because I'm not stupid to drink fragrance water. Just saying.

My shoes came! Me and two other girls are planning a Heel Day at school! I am so excited!

Isn't it weird how depressed and forlorn I felt before and how excited and happy I am now? Hormonal much? I kind of want to go on the pills to regulate this and eliminate the depression, period. But I don't want chemicals and stuff to mess up my body and possibly leave me infertile--I mean, I know I'm always going on and on about how I don't want to give birth, but I would like to have options, thank you very much.

Did you ever get the feeling that the world was a tuxedo and you were a pair of brown shoes?

Okay, I went to the bathroom today in Mme. Kennedy's class, and when I walked back, M. Lythgoe was looking at me again! ASK ME TO PROM ALREADY!

Speaking of Prom, M. Ward teased me and Mlle. Jang today in painting. Apparently, he has this awesome plan (knowing him, I don't doubt it--the boy is brilliant!) to ask this one girl to prom, so Mlle. Jang and I were trying to guess who since there is possibly no way to guess how he is going to do it. Anyways, we spent 15 minutes doing the "is it [Mlle. Tupac]? How about [Mlle. Smith]? No? Well, good, cause she's taken. Is it anybody we know? What do you mean you don't know?" Then we realized that he wasn't answering honestly and there's not point of doing 20 questions or whatever if he wasn't being honest. I thought he was going to ask Mlle. Jang. There's a possibilty he'll ask me since he touch my hands like, freaking ten times today in one hour. Okay, it was like, four times, but it's not like I'm counting. Being a good girl that I am, I pulled my hand back of course. Subtly, too, so it wouldn't be awkward. I hate mixed signals.

So, I went shopping today. My beloved messenger bag is ripping on the side, and I'm looking for something to replace it. So far, nothing matches it's cuteness, durability, stiffness, and overall aesthetically pleasing nature, so I settled for a smaller bag by the same company. It'll do my shoulder good.

And then I bought a pair of heels for prom. I was kind of iffy about it, but the deal was too good to pass up. I'll probably return them tomorrow or something.

And then I went to Forever 21 and found the most perfect pair of heels for prom, and they only have them in size 6 and 9! I'm a freaking 7! So I went online and found size 7 only to have it snatched up when I was looking for my debit card! What the heck?

On the flip side, I found my perfect pair of heels! It's a pair of heeled booties in tan. Pretty cute. I'd be so mad if the same girl that took my prom shoes steals this pair too.

I can always buy this pair, but it doesn't have the ankle-wrap that will go perfectly with my dress. It certainly is high enough though. Only 4 inches high, but the platform is almost 1 inch, making it a total of almost 5 inches, which makes me 5 feet 9 and a half inches. Pretty good. How hard would it be to dance in these, I wonder?

The pair below is lovely as well, but it is only 4 feet high, which is good, cause I can do 4 feet high, but now that I've seen long-legged Karlie Kloss move in my dress, I kind of want to go as high as possible.

Anyways, I was complaining to my little brother, and he went, "Do you know how spoiled kids are these days?" Oh my gosh, he's only 12! He's the cutest little brother in the whole entire world.

Oh, so...I'm trying to learn Comptine d'un autre été from the film Amelie. God, I love love love love the composer Yann Tiersen. His songs are very ethereal in a regal yet very folksy way. His music makes me feel like I'm in a fairytale. Plus, he's fairly cute. Anyways, at first, I hate how the left hand is very repetitive because it covers an octave with funky stuff in between. My hands can do an octave, but doing that for the entire song is very uncomfortable. Now I love how it's repetitive because I only have to focus on the right hand, which is very simple before it gets to the whole fast part. It's fairly easy for me to memorize this since it's repetitive, but it also paints an image with a map of where to go regarding the notes in my head, so I don't think I'll have trouble with memorizing. I've never been this motivated to do anything since EVER.


Oh, yeah, Mme. McElroy has passed away. Her funeral was today, but I couldn't make it.


I love the above quote. Sometimes I do wonder where I was when they handed out life manuals.