In this day and age, some turn 18 and think they're a man or a woman and that's it, but that's just not true. You have to establish your manhood or your womanhood with actions.

Yesterday, me and Mlle. M (one of my close friends since I'd like to keep her identity a secret) smoked pot. She had some and she had stuffed it in her cigarettes. So, she taught me how to smoke a cigarette. We smoked the pot part first. That was alright; the smell was pleasant and very European. But once we got the the tobacco part, I started to choke. Yeah, I don't like smoking tobacco.

I didn't get high since it was my first time, but Mlle. M was very happy while we watched Atonement. Yup. Very very very happy.

After she left, I was just doing random things and talking to M. Dow. And then later, I went on Chatroulette. Two nexts after, I got this really really really handsome guy. We were talking for the longest time, but after a while, I got bored. He was really good looking, yeah, so I kind of wanted to stay longer because of that. But he was just so dull and seemed so unintelligent. I told M. Dow and he said I got spoiled by talking to him. Arrogant little jerk.

Okay, before I continue, I have to mention that I've been talking on-and-off with this guy in New York called M. Patterson for a while. Well, M. Patterson is about 24 or 25, lives in New York City, went to NYU, and does film. He's not the handsomest guy on my Skype list, but he's pretty cute, which is why I didn't next him on Chatroulette. He looks a bit like M. Manwaring, actually, just scruffier. That's alright because scruffy is good. Anyways, so, yeah, I've been talking to him on-and-off and he becomes more and more flirtatious over time.

Usually, we talk at about nine or so if he has time. Usually, it'll be me talking to Mlle. Jang or M. Dow and he'll be interrupting and then I'll multi-task.  Sometimes he talks right after I get home from school. Sometimes late at night. Sometimes right after I wake up, but I'd said, it's not a regular thing.

So, this morning, he Skyped me at six something in the morning. I woke up at seven and Skyped him back. Like, texting, not video chatting. Let's just say it got very, very, very flirtatious (x10), this time, with me reciprocating as well. Then he said that I've gotten him going so much and he wanted to video chat. Okay, so here I was, lying in bed, under the cover, with zit cream all over my face. Hot was the opposite of what I was at the moment. So, I was like, I need to get ready for graduation. That just makes me such a tease though, whatever. But, to be perfectly honest, that conversation was hot. No joke.

So I graduated today. I didn’t feel any different. I just felt freer and less burdened. I thought I was gonna cry a whole bunch, but the only time I teared up a bit was when we were taking pictures, and my mom leaned in and whispered, "You make me so proud."

I was with Mlle. Hatfield the whole time since we were both Honors students and our last names are next to each other. She’s sometimes really annoying, but I’ve been friends with her since 8^th grade and I can tolerate her shit. But I have a feeling Mlle. Smith and I will probably fall out and not stay in touch as much. We simply don’t have anything to talk to each other about beside other people, and I would like to stop doing that. My senior quote is:

I’m aiming to be a great person, but if I can’t be a great person, I would at least want to not be a small person.

              
My family from LA came. Mlle. Truong and Mlle. La were there with their mothers. Well, Mlle. Truong’s mother, Aunt No. 4, lives with me, so only Mlle. La’s mother, Aunt No. 8, and Aunt No. 3 came with Mlle. Truong’s older sister and Mlle. La’s younger brother. So, basically, it was the family’s matriarchs.

These people right here essentially have the final say in everything we young kids do. I’m planning to not have to ask them for permissions to do anything, and the only way to escape their jurisdiction is to study hard and get tons of scholarships. I have to be financially independent, in other words, and grow freaking thick skins.

So, I found out that Mlle. Velasco has gotten a boyfriend, and I know him! Like, damn, I wish Mlle. Jang wasn’t reading this, then I could divulge his name, but since the relationship is supposed to be on the down low, I can’t say it. Mlle. Velasco seemed a bit weary that I knew, and that bugged me. I don’t know. I guess in my mind, there are always the three of us: Mlle. Velasco, Mlle. Smith, and me. We drifted apart, but I always thought that we were in the back of each other’s mind. Like, if I’d gotten a boyfriend, I would call Mlle. Smith and Mlle. Velasco and tell them. Sure, I said up there that it seems like Mlle. Smith and I will fall out, but I’ll probably at least try to keep her up to date on the happenings in life and she, too, will do the same. But this…it just feels like Mlle. Velasco cuts me out of her life completely…I don’t like the feeling of that at all. Whatever. There’s always a first for everything. It kind of freaked me out, so I guess I’m trying to reach out to her more.

You know what’s funny? I’ve always kept a journal. Well, almost always. But I do remember writing in my journal the summer before freshman year, dreading high school and growing up. And now, here I am, finished with high school and excited for college.

I hope I wasn’t the same girl I was before. I think the me four years ago were very insecure and incredibly delusional. She had her own version of how the world was and didn’t really accept reality. Well, not technically her own version. Her mother’s version, actually. She was shy and she was waiting until marriage. She’d never speak her mind and never trust anyone, always confiding in her journal. She wrote fanciful stories and never finished any of them. She lived in her own fantasy world and never bothered with how the real one worked. She was lonely, definitely, and I didn’t realize that until I saw the panoramic picture of us 8^th grade in Mlle. Johnston’s room. She had  long hair and she definitely had a lonely and timid look on her face. Plain. Her face was weak, watery, and plain. She had very weak eyes; they looked as if they would float away if she cried too much. Her face was definitely very watery. Her life was plain, boring, and uneventful. She didn’t want to go to high school, to college, to the real world, where her beloved mother didn’t live forever. She wanted a large wedding at a beach and she wanted to live with her mother until her mother died. Once her mother died, she would follow suit. Growing up didn’t seem too swell; she didn’t want to grow up.

And then there’s the most current version of me now. She still has weak eyes, but black liquid eyeliner anchors them pretty well to her face. Once her eyes are anchored, she appears less watery. She looks more solid, more tangible as a person. She has a pretty nice smile, but not always. She looks horrible on camera, so she prefers to be on the other side of the lens. She wonders about the certainty of reality; she lives in her own world still, but at least she’s trying to step foot in the real world. She becomes an atheist. She’s tried pot. She’s masturbated and watched someone’s face as he does too. Not at the same time of course; that’s a bit too naughty. She’s gotten a man all wound up by just talking to him—not suggestively, of course. She covers herself in beautiful clothes and make-up to feel beautiful and wonders about the shallow nature of such things. They should suffice for now, but she knows that when beauty and youth desert her, she’ll have to rely on something else more solid, something she’s supposed to find in herself that she hasn’t found yet. For now, she clings on to them with her dear life. Grace and charm still elude her. She’s learned to trust and confide in others; her journal serves only to record and track now. She’s semi-secretly rebellious and clashes with her mother. She’s designed her own prom dress and plans to design her own wedding dress as well as the bridesmaids’ dresses. She’s been disappointed for the first time in her life and has to live with that disappointment for the next four years. I think she’s more open to new ideas than before. She’s been told that she’s very shallow, although she respectfully disagrees. She’s somewhat shallow; not very shallow. She deviates away from the mainstream--or so she believes--and wants a small wedding somewhere where it snows; she wants a British husband with a beautiful mother and/or sister. She's selfish and impulsive, malleable and stubborn, arrogant and insecure...all of that combined. That's the person I am right now. 

A dirty book is rarely dusty.

So...today was the last day of high school. I'm pretty okay. I don't know when it's gonna hit me, but I hope it won't hit me hard. Actually, I do when it's gonna hit me. Friday.

I need to buy waterproof make-up.

Oh, good deed of the day: I got Mlle. Jang out of taking her French finals. Yup. Well, it wasn't all me. Her French teacher didn't have the test ready for the seniors, so she asked Mlle. Jang to come back tomorrow in the morning, the same time that we were supposed to walk to Burger Barn. Well, I was like, Hell, no, that's not fair, and I want to go to Burger Barn, so I persuaded her to go talk to M. Lipman, and M. Lipman talked to her French teacher and she doesn't have to take a final for that class anymore. You're welcome.

Why is it that turning someone else on turns me on? If that makes sense. I was talking to this guy on Skype from Chatroulette a long time ago, and he wanted to video chat. Okay, sure, why not? He was shirtless and he had really, really, really nice shoulders and I have a thing for nice shoulders, but I kept it to myself. Well. We got really flirtatious, and at one point he just flat out said he wanted to remove the straps on my dress.

Well, okay. I really like this dress. It's brown with black designs. Like, really pretty and totally me. It dips pretty low in the back and has two thin straps to hold it up. Well, I didn't want too many straps going on to ruin the nice dress, so I opted for the backless and strapless stick-on bra. So, it looks really good on. No joke.

Anyways, I was like, umm, awk, let's move on, in my head, but since me and Mlle. Johnston have that plan, I've been trying to act smooth, and pretending to be smooth online is so much easier than doing it in real life, so, I was like, whatever, it's good practice, you know? So I was like, Thanks for sharing; so tell me about... Okay, that's not very smooth, but it works.

Anyways, we were about this bullshit policy where you have to go to bed shirtless. I was playing along and I was just asking what the consequences were if I were to go to bed fully dressed. Well, I'd have to pay the "ultimate price." I was like, what's the ultimate price? He wouldn't tell me unless I lower one of my straps.

Okay, whatever. I was curious, so I did. Well, tried to. My little brother was in the room. He stayed in the room for what seemed like an eternity. I did it, and that's when things got inappropriate. I won't go into details, but I didn't do anything appropriate, just for the records. He said I was seducing him. I was doing no such thing. Well, I know I said that I was trying to be smooth, but I don't think my effort was any good.

I am 95% sure that he was m-bating after that point. Yeah. That wasn't a turn on though. Actually, it kind of was, but it kind of wasn't at the same time. Like, I guess it's flattering that he thinks I'm attractive enough to be a muse, but somehow it fells like, boys are just so damn horny at that point that anyone not ugly could have worked. Like, personal but not personal at the same time.

What was the turn on was that I asked him if he could rub from his neck to his shoulder blade and down his arm because it drives me crazy when a shirtless guy with really nice shoulders do that. Eeek. Definitely a good day.

M. Dow and I haven't seriously talked since forever. We've been typing to each other on Skype, but that's not the same thing. He's completely into his girlfriend; he wants to marry her even. It's cute. It's actually ironic since he thinks marriage is pointless. It's cute how he has everything planned out.

Mlle. Jang and I are walking to Burger Barns tomorrow. Stoked.

Mme. Berman's class! Okay, so we went around telling her what we were doing this summer, where we were going in the fall, and what our life goals were. Well, it was M. Pei's turn and he said he would be working at Chippendale's (a strip club) and he'd be at the corner of [This] Street and [That] Street. Mlle. Johnston said, "That's my spot!" all jokingly to me, but she said it a tad too loud, and that caught M. Berman's attention.

She turned around and said, "I cannot believe that that came out of [Mlle. Johnston]'s mouth!" and of course, M. Pei immediately quipped, "That's not the only that that's came out of her mouth." Mlle. Johnston was laughing, but she was beet red.

Okay, so Mlle. Velasco is such a non-hater! Like, the complete opposite of me! I usually hate on most people until I get to know them. Mlle. Tran the Younger is probably one of very few exceptions. I liked her right away. I thought Mlle. Smith was a snob the first time I met her; she was just shy. I didn't really have an opinion of Mlle. Jang. Mlle. Kweon really got on my nerves cause I thought she was always staring at me in Science Honors freshman year. I thought Mlle. Johnston was a snob, too. Let's see, who else? Oh, my God. M. Tackett! That kid is the funniest person on this whole planet, but I thought he was just another ASB retard. He's not! I'm so glad we became better friends. I need to stop hating. For sure.

To the world you may be just one person, but to one person you may be the world.

So, Mlle. Johnston seemed bummed out that I couldn't make it to her last ballet recital, but she was understanding. However, she was mad at her other friends who could go but didn't go. Especially M. Kelly, who came but left after the first act.

When I saw her at nutrition, she looked like she was about to cry, so I was like, "Hey, are you okay?" She was like, "No." So I looped arms with her and we walked down the hall. She said she felt like she didn't have any friends anymore--no offense to me. None taken; I knew how she felt. I gave her a hug and suggested that we make cookies at my house after school. We always wanted to make chocolate chips cookies without the chocolate chips.

We finished dissecting the fetal pig today.

Mlle. Jang got a new camera, so she went on a picture-taking frenzy.

So, Mlle. Johnston and I went to Vons to get the stuff. We wanted whipped cream, but we didn't know where to get it, so we were looking for a Vons person to help us out. We couldn't find anyone, so I was like, "Dare me to ask some random stranger where the whipped cream is?" She was like, "Don't do it!"

So I went up to this little kid and asked. His face was like, how the hell would I know? I couldn't keep a straight face the entire time and we just busted out laughing. He looked pretty confused when we did.

We got home and realized that we had no eggs. So we ran downstairs and asked my neighbor, who I've never spoken to before; I'd only smile on the occasions that I do see her. She was like, take two eggs. And Mlle. Johnston was like, do you want us to bring back an egg when we get more? She was like, nah, it's all good.

So we ran upstairs and shifted the chocolate chips from the powder stuff. Half an hour. Then we baked it. Really great cookies! We put ice cream and whipped cream on them and I went on Skype to show Mlle. Jang to make her jealous. Then, out of habit, I video called M. Dow to show up. The first thing that bitch said, "Wow. You have a friend?" Fuck you. That's why I have this cookie and you don't. Mlle. Johnston loves him and wants to talk to him again.

That's awkward because Mlle. Jang knows about him first, but we've made plans so Mlle. Johnston will talk to him with me tomorrow. Mlle. Jang's gonna be a bit annoyed about that.

We watched Priceless and Mlle. Johnston suggested that we should do what she did, and we should try it on the ship. Seducing men...that's my forte.

Our goal is to get older (well, older than us) men to buy us drinks on the cruise since we can't buy any. Yup. That's us. Seductresses.

So...since we ate whipped cream on ice cream on a giant ass cookie, we got high off of sugar. Like, crazy high. So, we went on Chatroulette and excitedly told this guy our whole adventure. He was a good audience. He listened patiently while two girls jabbered on and on and on about not having eggs and chocolate chips. Then we gave this guy dating advice, but he got creepy, so we nexted him. It felt great being high, but the crash was horrible. We just sat there, I was trying hard not to fall asleep because Mlle. Johnston was there, and it'd be horribly rude to ask her to leave. She left at 9 and I think we both just died in bed that day.

I felt good because I made her feel better and not so alone. Plus, she 

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.

Even if one takes every reefer madness allegation of the prohibitionists at face value, marijuana prohibition has done far more harm to far more people than marijuana ever could.

So...I did it...It wasn't as good as I thought it'd be. M. Dow said I did it wrong. Asshole. I was watching romantic love scenes from movies to get myself in the mood, and then he freaking sent me porn to look at. Well, that totally negated everything I've been doing that evening.

So...when I was doing it...it's just weird...like, it didn't feel particularly good...but, good thing is...I definitely know that I have a vagina and am NOT a hermaphrodite. You know what that means? I can go swimming on my period because I can finally know where to put the tampon.

Yesterday night was a waste of time. My mother took me to the temple to mediate. I was sitting there, half day dreaming, half nodding off, for one freaking hour. During that time, I let out a bunch of loud ass yawns, involuntarily, of course, because even I am not that rude. Yup. Boring boring boring.

M. Dow says I should try smoking pot and gives me the reasons why. I look at it and now I just feel so misinformed. I kind of want to try but don't at the same time. Like, I'll try it at least once before I die, but I don't want to make a habit out of it. Maybe it's the fact that it's illegal that makes it alluring...like, having a double life.
I told Mlle. Jang about the above. She's pretty open to it, I guess, but she's sticking to her own conviction, but she's willing to talk about it. Like, she's not just dismissing it without hearing anything.

MY MOTHER! She doesn't like me wearing a lot of make-up, which I don't. But, I'm like, "Well, I like doing my make-up this way." And she says that she doesn't care if I like doing it that way because I'm living under her roof and still have to follow her rule. Boo. So I'm out next year. Whoot whoot. But then sophomore year's still not down yet.

A bunch of us are dressing as pirates tomorrow.

(HAHAHA, I was reading this days after I posted it. ^ is not intentional!)

There are no good girls gone wrong, just bad girls found out.

So...since I didn't finish my homework, I told my parents that school started at 10:30 today. I slept in and took my time getting ready. When I was getting ready, M. Patterson from New York Skyped me and wanted to talk. Well, a few nights ago, he got home drunk and started flirting with me like crazy. Why is it that I'm only attractive to my family, old people, creepers, guys on Chatroulette, and drunk people? For some reason, he was under the impression that it'd get a bit warm next time we talked. I talked to him today before he left to Chicago. It wasn't a horribly flirty conversation when we were face to face--I'm glad.

But how exhilarating is it to do what he does? He's going away to Chicago for the weekends. No need to ask permissions. No reasons to not go. I'm extremely jealous. He's in control of his own life.

Anyways, then I was going to do my homework, but my dad kept asking me to call to various companies to fix his mistakes. When that was done, I started to write my Hamlet essay but then M. Dow and M. Manwaring came out Skype and both wanted to talk. At this point, I was just planning to wait till my family left and just ditched school all together and just emailed Mme. Berman the essay.

M. Manwaring is now in China. He loves it there! The culture, the people, everything. That guy is so full of life. He's Mormon, so of course he's a virgin.

And on the other end of the spectrum, there's M. Dow, the nympho. We discussed the deal some more. I wanted my reward to be for him to date a girl that is fat and ugly (since he hates fat and/or ugly girls) for a month and for him to treat her like a human being that she is. He didn't like that. I also specified that our deal would be null and void if I had a boyfriend during that time. He agreed to that, but he didn't want to put a time limit on it. He said it'd go until we were 80. How lovely. Me...an 80 year old virgin.

He sent me a link of Richard Dawkins speaking about militant atheism. It's a great speech, actually. He's mad eloquent. I'm kind of hopelessly in love with the way he uses his words.

Anyways, when M. Dow were talking, we kind of talked about oral and anal sex. I think oral sex is nasty. Like, you're sucking on something that leaks urine, the body's waste product, but M. Dow says that the girl doesn't come in contact with urine unless the guy pees right before. I don't know. I just think oral sex is nasty and unnatural. But, why? Why is it nasty and unnatural? I can't think of any reason why it would be. Anal sex, however, is a whole different story. Yeah, that shit is never gonna happen.

Yeah, well, I'm getting away from the point. I told him about this cartoon that I read. It basically says that sex is a natural act; killing is wrong and illegal; so why is it that it is more socially acceptable to play games that involve killing people but it is not okay to play games that involve sex?

Like, all my life, I've been taught that sex is dirty but necessary, like, just lie back and think of England. But it's a natural function of the human species. My mother probably definitely has a horrible sex life and she always says that I should wait till marriage. Waiting is my choice anyways, but she waited till marriage. She didn't have a good one, so/but she turned to religion fanatically to fill the gap, I guess. I'm not religious. I actually find atheism very very very appealing now. It's late. I had a good argument earlier, but I've lost it now.

It just seems like all my life, I've been told what to think by my mother and her religion, I've never really questioned anything around me (oh, God. THAT part is especially true considering all the things I eat). My mother! She raises me to not ask questions. When I tell her facts and my points on gay marriage and things, she says, "You think you're so mature and smart that you talk back to me? Don't argue with me. Just listen to what I say." End of convo. Lovely relationship we have. She thinks I'm a child. I think I'm going to go batshit insane if I have to live with her for another year. That sounds really mean, but I can't stand her forcing her ideas down my throat and her telling me to not question and just accept her authority.

Anyways, I ended up ditching till 12:30 when my parents came back home! They were like, "You're still here?" I was like, "Um...I'm on my lunch break! Forgot my lunch at home." They bought it and I drove it school to attend one class. At least I didn't get in trouble.

Haha. Good girls are just bad girls who don't get caught.

I took a picture of M. Dow in the morning since he's having his girlfriend over and they're doing what bunnies do. Minus the multiplying.

There is no art in turning a goddess into a witch, a virgin into a whore, but the opposite operation, to give dignity to what has been scorned, to make the degraded disireable, that calls for art or for character.

Tonight was Senior's Awards' Night. It was long and boring and full of mistakes, but Mlle. Jang and I had fun with my camera in the meantime. I don't think I would have had that much fun if I was with Mlle. Smith--who won shit tons of scholarships that night. Mlle. Jang just seems more spontaneous and more...I don't know...open to stupid stuff.

I've reached the decision that M. Lythgoe is no longer cute. Maybe he was cute last semester, but this semester his facial features look too big for his face. Mlle. Jang rates him a 5. I rate him a 7.

At one point, Mlle. Karch was called up. They announced her school and how much money she got. It was the weirdest feeling. Like, I was so proud of her and what she's gotten, but I also wish I was going with her to New York in the fall. I don't want to go to UC Irvine. I really don't. I'm looking forward to leaving the house, but UC Irvine was my back up, definitely NOT where I wanted to go. Now I have no choice.

If I can just pin these feelings to my heart and have them with me always to remind me to work hard the next four years so that I can banish the feelings of disappointment forever.

I went home and talked to M. Dow while editing the photos of Mlle. Jang and I. During the conversation, M. Dow commented on the itchiness of his balls, and I said, "That's lovely. Now scratch them." He read it as I'd scratch them for him. I said I wouldn't scratch them for a thousand dollars. He said all girls were prostitutes; some just had higher prices than others. I got mad and told him off, but he was just joking, and it was just like, damn it; he always does that to me.

Anyways, he said, "My new goal in life is to make you scratch my balls." I was like, hell no and something along the line of his best chance to ever get me to do that was to make me like him. He said he could do it within two months if he was over here. I was like, "I'm NEVER going to scratch your balls. It's NEVER going to happen." And in the midst of the argument, I said if he ever got me to willingly and consciously scratch his balls, I'd throw my cherry in as his reward--if he doesn't have a girlfriend at the time--because I was--am still--THAT confident that this little situation would NEVER happen. He was like, "Deal." Well, not "deal" because we haven't figure what my reward would be if I won. He suggested an epic massage. I said, no, since I would lose something important to me, so he would also need to lose something important to him. He said I could always do him with a strap-on. He showed me what it was, and there's no way in hell am I doing that to another person.

Then we moved on to something else, but he eventually said something like because I was using my virginity as a reward for him, I subconsciously thought about and wanted to lose it. But how weird ironic fitting interesting would it be if I lose it to him, the one person who talks to me about sexual things and such.

He then teased me about how I thought we were falling out. Oh, God. We are definitely NOT falling out now. We video-chatted and got a bit flirty. Just a bit. Not much. Like, if there was a line between the platonic and romantic, I would say we stepped on it that night. Maybe because it was late and my parents were home and the lights were out on both ends and he was in his bed and I in my little dress, but I thought it was a bit intimate. Like, not terribly romantically intimate. We just felt really close. Anyways, I was whispering because I didn't want my parents to hear. He was saying how he was feeling sleepy, since it was 12 AM for me and 3 AM for him, but he didn't want to sleep. Eventually, he was kind of nodding off and asked me to help him have a good night dream. So, I told him a story. "Once a upon a time, there was a nymphomaniac who lived in New York. He was very homophobic and very misogynistic, but one day he woke up and realized that he was actually gay and was very into having sex with a strap-on. He also discovered that he had a diarrhea fetish." At this point, he asked me to stop my pleasant story and asked me to tell him of another one. I did, using myself as the main character. I mapped out how I wanted my life to go. We talked a little bit more and ended call.

My homework remained unfinished.

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!

Beauty was my mothers law, her religion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here are some of my Breadth pieces:

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

Curiosity will seriously kill the cat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Got my car back!

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

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

My Prom dress is done! Picking it up tomorrow!

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!

Beauty is only skin deep, but ugly goes clean to the bone.

Mlle. Smith and I ditched sixth period--Painting--today to go shopping. I bought my prom shoes at Charlotte Russe. It's not on the website right now, but I'll try to find it later. And then we went to Forever 21 and tried on clothes there. It was just really fun.

I think now that we've gotten past the fact that Mlle. Velasco and Yasakova ditched us and that they're not coming back willingly, we get on so much better and have a lot more fun than before because we no longer just sit around and brood about how boring our lives are.

I do feel bad when we're trying on clothes though. For some reason, I just know what kind of clothes work best for my body. I know how to accentuate my greatest assets and my greatest flaws equally. Boxy clothes and belts suggest wider hips and smaller waist--something I don't have. Scoop-necks and sweethearts shows a lot more cleavage, hinting that there is more--while the truth is quite the opposite--and, at the same time, divert attention from my decolletage to my clavicles. High-waisted shorts just outright lie and make people believe my legs are longer than they are. These kind of things to come naturally to me, so I assume that they come naturally to my friends too, since we're almost like peas in a pod.

Mlle. Smith picked the worst things for her body. I tried on this pair of high-waisted shorts and boxy, striped top and Mlle. Smith really liked it so she borrowed the shorts and paired it with a flowy top. Well, our torsos are completely different, so while the shorts look good on me, the shorts divided her in thirds and make it seem like she had no waist--she has a very slim waist--and short legs. I didn't know how to say it because whatever I said would have come off as "my body is better than yours", so I just said, "Okay, well, no we know high-waisted shorts are not for you." I hope she didn't think I was implying anything bad. I have pretty friends, and I don't want them to think of themselves as ugly just because something like this happens. She looks beautiful in belted dresses.

God, I should have said no when she wanted to try on the shorts. She already feels so very insecure about her "large" hips. Well, let me tell you, they are NOT large, and I don't know why she's so insecure about them. She's beautiful in her own way and I think she shouldn't compare herself to other people and should just be embrace herself. Seriously, when I pick my friends, it sounds nasty and all, but I choose people whose beauty aren't mainstream and people who aren't ugly. My friends are all pretty in their own unique way and that's why I'm friends with them. Then, of course, their personalities play a major role in how much more prettier they become in my eyes.

Then there's Mlle. Ocampo, who, at first, I thought was really ugly but is strangely pretty because of it. When we were friends, she got a lot more prettier, but the moment she back stabbed me, she got ugly again. Well, uglier, of course.

That's why I hated it when people said that I looked like her. I took it as them calling me ugly on the inside and out.

Since second semester of junior year till now, no one has and will ever make that mistake again.

Anyways, enough of the nastiness, Mlle. Jang got into USC! I am so proud of her but I--and several people--are getting mad at UCLA for rejecting us and letting people of inferior intelligence in. That sounds snobby and all, but it's true and it's how I feel. I hope M. Ward's gotten in as well because I think M. Ward deserves it more than any of us.

Mlle. Jang is keeping her fingers crossed for me and Barnard. I am keeping my fingers crossed for her and RISD-Brown,  who's sending their notification today along with Carnegie Mellon--another of her school. But I am less worried now that your truly's gotten into UC Davis.

It's depressing, but I don't think Barnard will accept me. Neither is NYU, nor Rochester. I will never get to leave sunny California. I can't imagine not being in New York. I'm 5000% sure Barnard's rejection will break my heart.

On a brighter note, Mlle. Lanter and Mlle. Lopez and I are planning a Heel Day at school on April 1st. So far, about 12 people are attending, eight maybes, four declines, and 54 awaiting replies. That's okay if only 12 of us do it. We'll be the 12 girls in school with great postures and killer legs.

Mlle. Jang's group for Prom broke up so now she might join us if we don't get enough (18) people. Yay!

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.