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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He who trims himself to suit everyone will soon whittle himself away.

My mother has decided to move to Irvine my sophomore year at college. Lovely. There goes the plan that Mlle. Johnston and I have about moving into an apartment together sophomore year. I sure don't want to live with my mom. I'm super sure Mlle. Johnston doesn't as well. I mean, this is our time to live, but she keeps trying to interfere and not letting me live. She's had her chance at life. Let me have mine. Youth only happens once.

Speaking of youth, I've just finished a book. Rebbecca by Daphne du Maurier. It's an okay book with wonderful descriptions of a country estate called Manderley. It sounds so lovely to be so rich and living in such a decadent place, to have a drawing room and a morning room. I am especially in love with the scene where the unnamed heroine enters the morning room, the place where her husband's beautiful first wife Rebbecca always spends her morning writing letters and managing the estate. She describes the ornaments and decorations in the room, and then the descriptions of the writing desk comes up. Gosh, it seems like such a great desk, with labels such as "Unanswered Letters", "Invitations", "Parties", and "Misc.". And then the scene where the unnamed heroine stumbles upon the bedroom in the west wing (she stays in the east wing), and sees how the crazy housekeeper Mrs. Danvers has kept Rebbecca's room in a way that suggests that the owner is still alive. There is the ante-room which has a closet full of beautiful dresses in multitude of materials. I could have died and went to heaven right then.

And then there's Rebbecca.

My ideal beautiful woman is always one with black (blackest of black) tumbling past her shoulders. Always. Then, if her skin is dark, then she would have almond eyes (black or green, it doesn't matter). But if she has pale skin, then she has the kind that is almost white, but not quite. Her eyes, then, would be icy, icy blue. Rebbecca has the hair of the beautiful woman in my mind. She's tall and slim and beautiful, not to mention witty and clever and very, very charismatic and charming. She sails and rides and entertains while looking lovely beyond belief. And then we find out she's a nymphomaniac who has sex all the time and enjoys telling her husband, who hates her, about it to provoke him. She's manipulative and deceitful, mocking those around her for believing in her facade. When I was reading, I was very drawn toward her (not in a homosexual way, of course), but I always feel giddy when a beautiful girl or woman or house or room or dress or outfit or closet or scene that has some kind of a natural water source is described. It's weird. I just can't explain it. Oh, yeah, and floor plans! That stuff turns me on. Not in a weird way, of course. It just gets me really excited.

Mlle. Johnston wants to hangout during Spring Break, and, of course, I can't because my mother is incredibly anal. The topic of my prom dress came up and I told her that it would be $200 (it's actually $300. I always tell her that I spend less money that I really do), and she almost flipped out. She was like, "$200? Why are you so extravagant? Why don't you just borrow one of [my cousin's] dress?" Um...because, one, a long dress costs at least $200 and a good one costs at least $600. Mlle. Hatfield got one for $400 and it wasn't even that good looking. Mine's going to be so much better. I'd rather spend a wee bit more money on something I love than spending any at all on something I don't care about, but that's beside the point because I'm spending less than most people anyways. Two, because it's my own money? Three, because she and I don't wear the same size? Four, who borrows a dress for Prom? That's like borrowing a wedding dress. Who does that? Certainly not me. I would not get married if I couldn't wear my own wedding dress.

Actually, sophomore year, I decided that I wasn't going to marry, but then I thought about it and I really really really want to have my own wedding dress, so I decided to marry after all. Yeah, so...she's ridiculous! I'm paying for it with my own money! Why is she even complaining? Everyone else's parents are paying for theirs and they actually go shopping with their daughter.

Ugh. Talking about this makes me feel so suffocated and oppressed. I wish time flies faster.

Rejection helps you to discover who does not vibrate at the same frequency as you, and therefore it lets you know whom not to waste your energy and resources with.

No go on Barnard. I'm not incredibly bummed, but I speed-walked to the bathroom to cry my disappointment out. It was took less than five minutes. Thank God Barnard was incredibly cold and rude in their rejection letter or else I would be more bummed.

My mother took me to visit UC Irvine on Sunday. It was a lovely campus. There was a lot of Asian people, but the ones I've seen were attractive, so I don't mind. Plus, when I went into the Visitor Center to grab a map, I saw the cutest guy--possibly Greek or Persian--manning the Info Desk. I think I'm going to like it here.

Then we went and got our whole body massaged. It was incredibly nice and it felt so good.

I turned in my SIR and paid my non-refundable deposit yesterday and just paid my housing application fees today. It feels so good, and I am incredibly excited.

I told my friends, and everyone was like, "it's not like I don't want you to go somewhere you really want to go, but I'm glad you're at most an hour away." Mlle. Jang is going to USC. Mlle. Smith is going to CSUCI. Mlle. Connelly is going to LMU. Mlle. Johnston is going to CSU Long Beach and was especially excited when I told her. Mlle. Hatfield hasn't decided yet, but it is most likely that she will go to CSU Long Beach too just to piss Mlle. Johnston off. I wish those two would stop hating each other.

Oh, yeah, I've almost forgotten about Heel Day. It was great. I wore my heels with ankle socks and received so many compliments. Only a few girls did it with me, but they looked great and the other ones looked like they wished that they did it too. Guess who stared at me when I walked to class that day looking great. If you guess M. Lythgoe, you are absolutely correct. Okay, seriously, you've asked somebody else to Prom--you forfeited your privilege to stare, so please stop.

Speaking of Prom...now that it's a little bit more than a month away, I'm kind of freaking out because I hate two pimples on my face because I was lazy last week and ate junk food that whole week, so, yeah, my face is kind of messed up at the moment. So, I've started a new diet and new skincare regiment.


Diet:

• No more junk food.
• Drink a glass of tea per day.
• Drink at least five cups of milk per week.
• Drink a glass of water per day.

Obviously, the point is to detox my body so this kind of disaster will not occur. Ever again. I like having nice skin, thank you very much.

Skincare:

1. Remove make-up and cleanse lightly.
2. Apply honey to face for ten minutes.
3. Rinse and cleanse for real.
4. Tone.
5. Moisturize.
6. Apply this disgusting-smelling night creme to my face.

Well, this is obviously for my night regiment. My morning regiment is steps 3 to 5. And then there's the make-up routine that I have and must specifically follow because I am anal like that.

Make-Up:

1. Moisturize.
2. Foundation.
3. Blush.
4. Chapstick.
5. Eyeliner.
6. Highlighter.
7. Lipstick.
8. Mascara.

And there's my hair styling regiment, but that one's more complicated to explain because it has many variations.

But starting this week till Prom, I will not wear foundation unless my skin looks horrible. I know I said my skin looks disgusting right now, but it really isn't. It just looks unsightly because I look at myself with a magnifying glass. Not wearing foundation is supposed to help your skin, so I'm up for it. Saves me time too.

It seems like Mlle. Jang is trying to be better friends with me, which is nice, except I have no time to hangout because my mother hates it when I go out. Grr. I want to do yoga with her and Mlle. Smith. I just want to hangout like a regular girl, but I can't.

Mlle. Smith and I, and possibly my mother and Mlle. Jang, are going to UC Irvine next Wednesday to tour that campus and dorms. I'm so excited, you have no idea.

Now that I think about it, my mother always gets what she wants. Everything works and fits her plans the way she wants them too. It's like the people upstairs love her more than they love me.

That's a lie. They love me in a different way. I'm an incredibly lucky child. I've never been seriously hurt in my entire life. Never broken a bone...nothing. Almost gotten hit by a car, stepped in shards of glass, lost a foot, gotten rabies, stabbed and sliced by a knife, gotten stuck for weeks in Italy, gotten stuck and lost in Vietnam at the airport, and bunch of other almosts. I'm just lucky like that. My well-being is looked after.

Sometimes I wonder if I truly want to go to UCI or if my enthusiasm is just something my brain make up to ensure my survival through these rejections. Either way, I don't care. I just kind of want to know, that's all.

I talked to Mlle. Kodoma today. It was really nice. I miss her and I wish she was here.

There are three types of friends: those like food, without which you can't live; those like medicine, which you need occasionally; and those like an illness, which you never want.

So, this weekend, I kind of made peace with myself about my upcoming rejection from Barnard. I was going to go to Irvine, study my butt off, and be the one doing the rejecting the next time around. That was my plan, as set in stone as my plans could possible be. I told my friends, and they were more than happy because we would be a few minutes (at most an hour) away. My mother and I got on so well this last weekend because of that.

But now University of Rochester--which I just assumed would reject me since they accept 38% of all applicants while Wellesley accepts 32% and they rejected me--accepts me and is probably giving me tons of money to go there. I'm so lost.

Pros

1. Rochester is a huge-ass city, which means plenty of volunteer and job opportunities.
2. It's ranked higher than UCI and is one of the new Ivies.
3. It's one of the leading research universities right now.
4. You just need to take classes for your major, so no gen. ed.
5. It's 300 miles from NYC, which is a whole lot closer to it than I will ever be at Irvine.
6. Last, and most importantly, it has a neuroscience department, and I want to be a neuroscience major. I honestly don't care about the other stuff, but UCI is almost the same in those aspects, but neuroscience is something I really want to get involve in.

Cons

1. It's far away. I mean, I can understand going all the way across the country to study at Barnard and Columbia, but to study at a school that's ranked a wee bit higher than my in-state school doesn't make much sense. But the neuroscience department is just so so so irresistible.
2. It's not NYC.

Can you imagine how lost I feel now? Now it feels like I'm waiting for Barnard's acceptance letter to swoop in and save me from making bad decisions all  over again. I love Barnard, but I don't want my hopes and dreams to be shattered and trampled all over, something that will happen if I keep getting my hopes up.

But, for sure, wherever I choose to go, I will become the applicant that medical schools can't resist. They won't be the ones rejecting me the second time around. I'll reject all of them save for Columbia Medical School.

So, away from collegial stuff...

Prom planning is a nightmare! People keep freaking changing their minds!

Okay, so we have a bus for 18 people but we only have eight people so far (Mlle. Lopez dropped out to go on another bus after giving us her words, what the heck? but Mlle. Macias managed to find someone to take Mlle. Lopez's place). So I talked to Mlle. Yun, who has a group of ten and no bus, so if they merge with us, it'll be perfect.

Not.

Mlle. Yun is the only one I can stand in their little group. The rest of them are annoying as hell and are just asking to be slapped. So I asked Mlle. Coleman and her group, and she says she's telling everyone tonight, which is great. Her group is huge. They'll get ten people with no problems.

And then Mlle. Jang--who's going on Mlle. Lanter's bus, the same bus Mlles. Velasco and Yasakova (oh, they are an entirely different story), keeps interfering with our plans because she talks to Mlle. Smith and Mlle Smith is the most malleable person on this whole planet! Mlle. Lanter's group isn't going to dinner before the Prom like we are, and Mlle. Smith wants us to cancel to the dinner reservation to. Are you serious? Mlle. Macias, who is normally calm and gentle, nearly blew her top when she called me (because I left at lunch and skipped 5th and 6th to go home and finish my Sim's new house. Haha. The things seniors do). I called Mlle. Smith to tell her that there was possibly no way we're going to cancel our dinner reservation. She reasoned that it was too much, but was willing to do dinner anyways since it would make us happy. I told her that she shouldn't do that, and that she should only do dinner if she really wanted to. She said she wanted to do dinner, I knew she didn't. She kept trying to convince me that she wanted to do dinner, but a fool could tell that she wanted otherwise. So I pretended to believe her and hung up. Then I asked around and apparently, all these losers were not going to freaking dinner which made her convince that dinner wasn't necessary.  So I called Mlle. Macias again and told her about my plan to eat dinner before, but only to eat a little bit so it wasn't terribly expensive, then eat at Prom with everybody else. Problem solved. You're welcome.

God, Mlles. Velasco and Yasakova make me so mad! Especially Mlle. Yasakova. She just assumes that everything and everyone revolves around her dramatic little life. But Friday was when people who were going on our bus needed to confirm with us that they were for sure going. Everybody was supposed to tell me before school ended. So there I was, at freaking five o'clock, calling Mlle. Yasakova over and over and over again (why the eff do you carry a cellphone if you're not going to use it?). I took a break from that and called Mlle. Velasco--who called me at two and requested an extension till six. Mlle. Velasco said that she didn't know what to do. And I was very patient then, not at all pissed off like I am now. I was like, "Okay, well, what are your deciding factors?" And she said that she didn't feel comfortable with Mlle. Smith. Well, honey, if you hadn't ditch us, that wouldn't have happened, would it? NO.  But I was really really nice then, so I was like, "Okay, well, you do whatever you feel comfortable doing. I don't want to force you to come with us and make you have a crappy night." So she chose the other bus. I called Mlle. Yasakova again and she didn't pick up. She didn't even have a damn voice mailbox or whatever. I called Mlle. Velasco and asked her to ask Mlle. Yasakova for me. So Mlle. Velasco called right back and told me that Mlle. Yasakova was coming with her to the other bus. At that point, I got really mad. I kind of started to raise my voice at Mlle. Velasco, but I stopped and apologized because I was getting mad at the wrong person.  Mlle. Velasco was trying to get me to sympathize with Mlle. Yasakova. She said that Mlle. Yasakova liked to talk about her problems and didn't like it when Mlle. Smith and I just dismissed them like they were nothing. Well, first of all, we never dismissed them. We talked and talked and talked about them until we got sick of talking. Second of all, okay, so having a conversation means talking and listening.  She always talks and never listens to problems, and she thinks we're being unreasonable? Ugh. I. Am. So. Sick. Of. Her.

And then now, Mlles. Smith and Velasco are talking again, but Mlle. Smith says that her forced conversations with Mlle. Yasakova always returned to Mlle. Yasakova and her problems. Well, I'm not putting more efforts into a one-sided relationship. Period.

And guess whose bus Mlle. Jang and Tran Sr. are going on now that their party bus is broken up? Mlle. Lanter's bus when they could have joined ours and save us bunches of money. Then I really thought about it. I was really close with Mlle. Velasco, so to think that she could have spared me all the worrying about the party bus but chose not to is kind of annoying. I love Mlle. Velasco, but she is very shallow. I thought I was shallow, but she's even more shallow that me. And that says a lot.

Anyways, tomorrow, Mlles. Smith, Johnston, and Hopkins, and I are going to the beach to take pictures. Well, I'm taking pictures of them. Their hair will be curled. They'll have on red lipstick and cat eyes and long dresses. It'll be great! I'm excited!

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.

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, so possible explanations:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He could be that boy, but I'm not that girl.

So, Mlle. Smith went on a Career Fair field trip today, which means she missed out on the fun we had in Studio Art in the morning.

Mme. Mills has been going on and on about having us do something like this picture below.

And today she was bugging M. Ward about it. I volunteered to take his pictures since I'm trying to build a portrait portfolio. It would be a win-win since we both get to use my pictures in our portfolios for the AP test. She told us to go to the dark room. We were like, "Okay? Sure, whatever you say," and went in the gallery. She was like, "It's not dark enough!" I was like, "What other dark room is there?" She meant the storage room in the back, and she kind of said it really loud and made Mlle. Tupac--one of M. Ward's close friends--turn around and said, "Hmm, [_] and [M. Ward] going to the dark room, hm?" and got the whole class in on it.

The moment I closed the storage door, M. Ward turned around and pounded on it while moaning and making sex noises. I punched him and flipped off the light. Then I had to turn the light back on to go out and get my cellphone (which usually serves as a light source). Mme. Mills was like, "Just in case you need help, huh?"

I went in and took pictures. Good ones, too, I think. I had M. Ward sit on the floor, and since the lights are off and it was completely dark, I sat cross-legged on the floor too even though I wore a skirt. I had him make faces, but mostly just stare straight into the camera. Most of the time, we completely missed each other since he would look one way while the camera was pointed in a different direction. Overall, the pictures were good for being taken in the dark.

Today, in 6th period, I found out that M. Lythgoe will be asking Mlle. Pillado to the Prom this Friday. Lame. Well, now I have to find someone else to daydream about. I kind of want to get him back for leading me on. I know it seems like there's a possibility that I'm delusional about him on this blog, but I'm not. Take my word for it, please. Anyways, there's not much I can do except to look so good that he'll regret not asking me.

We have yet to find out who M. Ward is asking to the Prom. Whoever she is, I hope he goes on with the plan so he can tell Mlle. Jang and I once it is executed, like he's promised.

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.

There is a road from the eye to heart that does not go through the intellect.

So, today began really nice and peaceful, which is not a surprise since this whole week has been pleasant, yet I find myself getting depressed everyday at around four to seven o'clock. Not to worry because the moment I feel a tiny bit depressed, I switch the music to blasting Uffie, Lily Allen, and 3Oh!3 and the raunchy lyrics take my mind off of things. I need a new way to get out of it though because this way won't last forever.

Anyways, I had to go to the bathroom in Mme. Kennedy's class today. You would think that a small and skinny girl like me would walk all soft and dainty, but sometimes I walk like an elephant. Today was one of those times. Anyways, that's way beside the point. So when I got back, the moment I opened the door and walked in, guess whose face I saw looking at me first way before other people started to turn around. Maybe I'm overspeculating, but I would like to think that he felt my giant stomping, saw me at the windows, and turned around to look as I walked in. Anyways, I saw him looking, and he was probably the only person I had eye contact with, and I could see him watching me as I walked across the room to take my seat. Once I got there, I kind of lingered and stood there for a few seconds, looked in his direction, and saw that he was still looking! Then toward the end of class, I looked out the windows and saw him looking again out of the corner of my eyes. It's hard to explain but I moved my eyes to include more of him in my peripheral vision, if that makes sense. He was indeed looking my way. It was all very thrilling until I realized that Mlle. Pillado, a pretty, lovely, and gentle Mormon girl who wouldn't harm a fly, sat behind me.

If M. Lythgoe likes me, then he should say so. He is awfully nice to look at, especially when he stares at me right back. God, it sounds like we are having eye sex, but we really are not.

And then the day went by like always. Mlle. Smith, Hatfield, Macias and I discussed our limo plan. Now that M. Smith has asked Mlle. Smith to the Prom, we have nine definite people in the group: the four of us, M. Smith, Mlle. Lopez and her date, M. Clayville, and Mlle. Rink (a friend for Mlle. Macias). Mlle. Yasakova and Velasco (I have invited her when I found out that she didn't know what her G.A.P.P friends were doing for the Prom) are supposed to come with us, but they are well-known for backing out at the last minutes. I have not heard from the other people yet. And M. Lythgoe has YET to ask me.

I think I will fail the next Calculus test because I have no idea what is going on. Mme. Kennedy is very patient when she explains things to me, and I love her so much for that. But once she is out of sight, everything she's said goes as well. I'm trying so hard, harder than I have ever done before. I come to class early to check my homework and ask her questions, but I just don't seem to be getting it. I bet she's very disappointed in me for wasting her time and effort.

We had a lot of fun in Painting, as usual. Mlle. Jang had finished putting the gouache in the palette for me, so I worked on drawing eyes and other facial features with graphite as I waited for the gouache to dry. Mlle. Smith and I discuss our workout plans for the Prom. Since my dress is leg-centric, I need to tone my legs. Honestly, I know I sound like one of those girls who fish for compliments because I'm skinny and all, but my thighs are huge compared to the rest of my body. And my gastrocnemius muscles are virtually nonexistent; I saw them and my thighs jiggle today. Not. A. Pretty. Sight. But ever since I started taking Physiology, I'm so afraid to do anything really physical, like running, because running means bending my knees, which works to wear away my cartilages in my knee joints and eventually it'll just be bone on bone and let me tell you, I can NOT stand pain to save my life. I'm just going to stick to stretching until I can find a workout to tone my legs.

Towards the end of class, M. Ward managed to get to Youtube from the Mme. Mills' computer and we all (Mme. Mills, M. Ward, Mlle. Smith, Jang, Tupac, and I) watched funny videos on there. God, it was a fun afternoon.

Then I came home to find out that I got rejected from UCLA. Remember that whole stress thing I went through that made my back breakout when I got an "unlikely" from Wellesley? Well, this is a little bit better but I'm still so very scared, nervous, and anxious.

My mother came back from Vietnam last night! You know what that means? I miss my lovely camera so much! Plus, she bought me earrings, which will go into my ever-growing collection of earrings since I am so into earrings right now.

I talked to Mlle. Velasco earlier to let her know to let us know about her final decision before the 24th and to give us her money by the 31st of this month. Sometimes I feel like such a bad friend for not being there for her when she has money problems. I mean, her dad makes so much money, but when you take that amount and divide it by seven people in her family, that doesn't leave much for them to do much. And it just feels like I all do is say, "Hey! Wanna go waste money with me?"

I think M. Lythgoe should just ask me to the Prom!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love is like oxygen. All you need is love.

So, I'm tired of moaning and groaning and bitching complaining about my boring life. I'm going to do something about it. So, I'll try not to complain anymore. Do, or do not; there is no try.

Anyways...

Since the beginning of this year, in Econ class, I sit opposite of this guy named M. Lythgoe. I think he's pretty cute, with a steely and cold demeanor. He's about my height, I think, or he looks it. I sure hope he looks it because then he'll be datable. I don't know how he is, but he seems rude in Econ, always talking with his friends when the teacher is lecturing. Once, the teacher got fed up and kicked the whole bunch of them out of class. He was the only one who came back later and apologized.

I don't know what is it that's with me and M. Lythgoe. Like, I can sense that's there's something, but it's barely there. Like, okay, it's weird, because I had a mini crush on him at the end of eighth grade, but, like everything else that was related to middle school, it wasn't anything major nor serious. But the moment I strolled into Econ, I could feel him staring at me. Well, so were the other guys because I had on a simple white t-shirt, black short shorts, with tights that look like the picture below (except mine are like, so much better and less slutty because the 90% of my legs is covered), and a venetian red scarf tossed over one shoulder. Not to toot my own horn, but I looked pretty great.

Anyways, I felt him staring at me as I handed my schedule to M. Near and even when I got to my new seat near Mlle. Johnston, the same seat that happened to be directly across from him. I wasn't very interested then because I'd always pegged him for a jerk and a jock, you know?

I think I first started to notice him the day I found a lollipop from Mme. Mills in my pocket. I was enjoying my lollipop, and the class was hot, so I guess I was subconsciously tracing the metal tip of whatever I had on hand on my bare thighs because it felt good. I was spacing out and when I came to, I saw him looking at the metal tip on my thighs, and all of the sudden, he flicked his eyes up to meet mine. Well, I did what good girls do and avert my eyes and blush, because that was pretty weird because it must have seem like I was touching myself on purpose--which I kind of was, but it wasn't like that--while eating a lollipop--which is pretty sexual all by itself.

From then on, every time I glance over, there was a good chance of catching him looking at me. He sometimes catches me looking at him, but often time, I just fake spacing out. Like, it's pretty easy. I just force myself to freeze my gaze and keep it there for a long time before drifting it somewhere else and keeping that there for a long time. Once, M. Near was trying to explain something to him and M. Lythgoe was asking a question regarding what M. Near was saying and it came out all funny. I happened to be looking on (of course) and he caught my eyes and laughed, and said, "What am I saying?" That's far from intimate, but that's the most intimate we've ever been. Anyways, so we keep doing that to each other and we've talked like, five times this whole school year. Sad? Yes. Very.

Now that we don't have Econ anymore and Mme. Kennedy's moved me from behind him (darn), I sometimes look out the windows and see him looking in my peripheral vision. I sometimes catch him. He almost never catches me though because my seat is more or less strategic than his. Plus, M. Foghi's huge head is always in the way.

Today, he had to go to the bathroom, and so I watched him as he walked from his desk to Mme. Kennedy's desk, and I could tell that he could tell that I was watching. So the moment he grabbed the pass and made a turn, he looked and we locked eyes for a millisecond before he turned away.

M. Kwon implies that M. Lythgoe doesn't masturbate since he's Mormon, but Mlle. Macias tells me that all guys masturbate and she suspects that the Mormons do it even more since they're so sexually frustrasted. When I tell her about M. Lythgoe (not this detailed, of course. God, that'd be mortifying), she tells me that he's pretty nice, but "he wants you to be Mormon and have ten children."

I reread this and it seems like there's more to me and M. Lythgoe than there really is. It seriously is almost nothing. I'm just attracted to him, but it really is nothing big.

Mlle. Smith, Hatfield, and Macias came over today. Mlle. Lopez is also coming with us in the limo. Whoot whoot! Mlle. Coleman informed me that my dress would come out to be more or less $300, which, according to Mlle. Johnston, is pretty good for a custom-made dress and I better be nice to Mlle. Coleman's mom, who is making it. At first I was like, $300? That's a lot of money. But then I looked at the other dresses similar to it, and they are more than $300 even though they're ugly.

A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out.

Okay, so on Monday, Mme. Kennedy said that she liked my shirt, which was awfully nice for her to say because she is usually very professional and stoic. She then said she liked all of my clothes and that I always looked so "elegant." Eeek! Best. Day. Ever.

Not.

That's probably the one of the few things worth remembering this week. This has been such a horrible week for me.

First, there's the whole prom-limo issue. I already kind of knew that Mlle. Jang, Imhoff, Lee, the foreign exchange students, and their friends are going on one limo, but apparently they invited Mlle. Smith too. I was like, okay, where does that leave me? I told Mlle. Smith about this little predicament, and she said she'd ask if I could come too. I already felt like such a tag-along, so I started my own group: me, Mlle. Smith, Macias, Hatfield, Tran (the elder), and whoever we bring along.

Well, Mlle. Smith didn't like that idea as much. She said going with my group wouldn't be fun because we're all so straight (no alchohol, drugs, or sex for us). I suggested that we split up since we would see each other anyways at the prom. She was completely against that idea and convinced me to ask Mlle. Jang if there was room for me on the bus.

I HATE doing stuff like that, like, forcing myself on people. I asked Mlle. Jang, and she told me to ask Mlle. Imhoff, who told me to ask Mlle. Lee. Well, I got the whole story today from Mlle. Jang during a conversation to math class, and it came out to Mlle. Imhoff, Lee, Jang, and Smith were talking about prom in their composition class, and Mlle. Jang just drew up a list of people on their bus, something they have already secured. Mlle. Jang apologized for not including me too because they were planning it "since last semester." When I heard that, I said, "actually, me, [Mlle. Smith], [Mlle. Velasco], and [Mlle. Yasakova] were planning it since sophomore year. I don't know why [Mlle. Smith] didn't tell you, because she should have from the get-go."

I swear to God, sometimes I just want to shake Mlle. Smith senseless and tell her to stop being so wishy-washy. She's a goddamn adult, and she should start by making her own goddamn decisions instead of letting people just shape her however they want. During Calculus, I made up my mind to make our own group whether or not she'd be with me.

When I told her, I listed the reasons why I wouldn't be going with Mlle. Jang's group:

1. There's NO ROOM. They've already exceeded their intended 25 by alot.
2. They obviously didn't want me, because not only did I have to ask multiple times, they didn't invite me in the first place. I would hate to force them to make room for me because that's just rude and would make things awkward for everybody.
3. I'm more comfortable with people who have fun the way I have fun a.k.a. without drugs and alcohol.
4. I'd know more than 5/6 for the people on my bus as compared to 4/3293029832903928 on Mlle. Jang's bus. Mlle. Smith's ratio is a tiny-bit better, but not much.

I told her that I was fine with her going on the other bus, but I was just letting her know that I wouldn't be coming with her. I was so surprised when she immediately said  that she would be in my group and not Mlle. Jang's. That's a good start. But she needs to resolve all this confusion by herself.

Tomorrow, a bunch of us are coming over to my house to discuss the whole limo thing. I hope it'll go well.

Second, the other day, Mlle. Schneider brought in a vegetarian burrito from Burger Barn. I had a bite and fell in love, so I went the next day, buying one for lunch and one for breakfast. Well, I ate both for breakfast and was so full by the end of 1st period. Then I went and drank a bottle of water. Then I felt really sick and went home and played the Sims 3 all day. That was a good day, actually. Mlle. Smith called me later to tell me about her conversation with Mlle. Yasakova. She needs to get that issue resolved too.

Third, the day before the burrito incident, I was super tired all of a sudden while doing homework in the library after school when the kid I tutor failed to show up. So I tried to finish before the library closed, and went home when I did. I went home and slept until five in the morning, not finishing any homework beside the one I did in the library.

Fourth, today is my little brother's birthday, so, as promised, I took him out to eat. We had a grand time at IHOP since he'd never been.

Fifth, my cousin Mlle. Truong got into CalState Long Beach and she called me all excited. Her poor mother is living up here with us temporarily and she was very excited as well. She was bragging to my father and telling him about that. She then told me that when my cousin becomes a nurse, I should hire her since I'll be a doctor. Thank God she doesn't know that I'll be far far far away from here.

I wonder...when I look back on this blog, will I hate how much I complain, whine, and bitch? Hopefully, because complaining is hideous, I hate doing it, but I do it all the time. Does that make me a hideous person?

Here's more:

I'm so tired of school and the "friends" I have. I've been trying to find the right expression for these feelings I've been having and the closest I've come to it is a person with his/her head forced underwater. For five days, it's underwater, but the head gets to come up and breathe for the weekends before being forced under water again on Monday. I wish time flies faster. I wish I got into Barnard. But both are out of my hand.

Although, I do have a theory. I read somewhere that whether time flies fast or slow depends on the quantity of memory in that specified time period. Say, if you remember a lot of things, then time is slow during that period. It's used to prove that time does not actually go slower when you're in danger; you actually just have more of it when you're in danger, making you think that it goes slower. So, if the opposite is true, then little memory means time goes really fast, right? The only way I can think of is sleeping, but I sure as heck can't sleep until June 10th. I really wish I had a doppelganger to replace me so I can go far away. I think I just need to be away for awhile.

A single rose can be my garden...a single friend, my world.

Please let my life next year be much better than my life this year. Not that is is horrible, but it just seems that way sometimes. Not horrible, definitely not horrible--more a long the line of being almost unbearable. The monotony is getting crazier and crazier. I just can't help but somehow feel like Madame Bovary. She, too, lives in a boring little town while yearning for a cosmopolitan life in the city. Her feelings, though they are sometimes wrong, are a lot deeper and more profound than those around her. Yes, she cheats on her husband, but it is in search for idealized passion and fantasies. I don't like her ending. Hopefully my ending will be in a little cottage by the sea in the north of France where I can easily cross the English Channel to England if I'd like, surrounded by paintings and flowers.

Two years ago, I remember us girls planning our wedding and me saying, "If I were to have my wedding right now..." and describing my wedding plans. Back then, my bridesmaids would have been Mlle. Tran (the elder), Tran (the younger), Velasco, Smith, Johnston, Hatfield, Coleman, and Hai (my cousins Mlle. La and Truong and my sister are automatically in my wedding, so there's never a need to mention them).

If you were to ask me now, I would say none of them. I and Mlle. Tran (the elder), Johnston, and Coleman have drifted apart considerably to the point where I have to ask for pictures of the things Mlle. Coleman likes to get inspired by to design her prom dress. Mlle. Velasco doesn't even remember my birthday even though I've known her seriously for three years and I always remember hers and get her nicer presents than I get Mlle. Smith except for this year. Plus, she's too busy hanging out with her GAPP friends to hangout with me and Mlle. Smith anymore. Mlle. Hai is just weird and awkward and would seriously mess up the aesthetics. Plus, the others girls don't like her and she always forget to return my Amelie DVD. Mlle. Smith and I have an uneasy and superficial friendship going on where we both don't have any other close friends and must cling to each other to not appear like losers. I don't think we're real friends. I would invite her to my wedding though because I am awfully fond of her. Same with Mlle. Tran (the younger) and Mlle. Hatfield. I do like Mlle. Hatfield a lot. She has a very high chance of being my bridesmaid. But if she's my bridesmaid, I sort of have to ask Mlle. Smith also, and if I ask Mlle. Smith, I kind of have to ask Mlle. Velasco even though she's been a very bad friend lately, and with Mlle. Velasco comes Mlle. Yasakova because the four of us make a group. No, I think it is understandable if I ask Mlle. Smith and not Mlle. Velasco.

God, I'm such a bitch sometimes.

I found this dress that I really like. Almost as equally as the prom dress I've designed. 

I really like the split hem. It elongates the legs and accentuates the simple allure of catching glimpses of skin. I kind of want to redesign my prom dress to something like this, but it'd be kind of hard to dance in something like this, yeah? I've got nice legs, and I wouldn't have to worry about whether or not my back decides to break out or not. I don't know. I'll see what I can do.

Someone told me that in about 50 years, no one will speak Latin, probably. Not even Latin people.

A pretty, clever young girl seduced by a charming, older man, pulled into his world of good music, dinner parties, and the such. I'm in love with An Education. Carey Mulligan is amazingly lovely as an English school girl, and she's even more gorgeous when she dresses up for the fancy events that David, the older gentleman, invites her to.

I would love to get my bangs cut like hers. I have wanted to do so for a while, but my mother managed to persuade me out of it. I'm definitely get my bangs cut like hers next time I go in for a haircut. Her bangs and Abbey Lee Kershaw's length--which is perfect because my hair would be a bit longer than that when I go in.

I'll probably cut it after prom so I can wear my hair up. I don't know if I've mentioned this, but I'm redesigning my prom dress since I have doubts about the first design. I have doubts about this one too, but this one seems very me. It is as me as any dress can ever be. My criteria are: simple neckline (so my dangling chandelier earrings won't have to compete for attention), a flowing bodice as opposed to a clingy and curve-hugging one (I always imagine that the suggestion of dainty curves is sexier that showing someone outright where they are) , backless (a classier way, I think, to show skin and be daring at the same time), and simple yet spectacular overall. I'm thinking a black, floor length number made with fabric light enough for the movement yet heavy enough to be classified as a formal dress and not a nightgown. That's the problem with a flowing bodice. It resembles a nightgown too much.

I think I can pull it off though. It'll be great. I'll put my hair in a ballerina bun to accentuate the unclothed neck and back. Exposed clavicles are sexy. My dangling chandelier earrings will be my only accessories besides the flower items. The whole outfit will be completed with black, smokey eyes and dark red lipstick. Isn't it a beautiful painting? Black hair, black eyes, black dress, and BAM, red lips. The colors just go so well together.

Oh, God, I don't think the flower items will fit in. I hope it'll be alright if I just ditch the whole flower thing.

In painting class, Mlle. Macias and Kweon and I were talking about prom dresses and prom dates. They know how I'm designing my own and remarked on how intimidated my date would be. I told them how I would rather go alone than go with someone uncreative. Then M. Ward, who has recently taken the empty seat next to me-- my bag holder--away by occupying it, said something about being creative with his asking. I told him that I highly doubted that his proposal would be as cool as he thought it would be. Then he told me that I would be amazed when he asked and would realize that he much more creative than I gave him credits for. Then, throughout that whole period, he kept giving me funny looks. I went to the bathroom right before and was sure that I didn't have anything embarrassing on my face.

Maybe I'm reading way too much into it, but it seems like he may ask me to prom. I mean, it'd be nice to have a nice-looking date, but then the whole limo arrangement wouldn't work, I would think. M. Ward will want to go with his friends and I will want to go with mine. God, when I was in 8th grade I wanted to be friends with them so bad, but I prefer my own friends now. It just wouldn't be a good arrangement. I hope he doesn't ask me. I just know it won't work. Again, this is just base on my assumptions and (possibly wrong) over-analysis.

I talked things over with Mlle. Smith and she's coming over on Friday to do our first photo shoot. She wants to have us dressed up and made up while I want us au naturel. Well, it is more sensible to take pictures of us as we are first then run to my house to get ourselves ready before the lights go. I don't know if I want a glamour shot of me all made up. I'm horribly self-conscious when someone points a camera at me. It is as if everything--all my body parts--is in the wrong places and I have no idea where everything correctly goes.