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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The absence of alternatives clears the mind marvelously.

I went to see Master Harold and the Boys today. It was exceptionally emotional. The boy playing Master Harold is very cute, but he's not my type. I don't know what my type is, but I know he isn't it. He seems to be highly intelligent too. Very good actor.

Now that my mother is gone, the house is very empty and quiet without her. It makes me think of how empty it will be when I leave and how disappointed and sad my parents will be when they realize I won't be returning to California to live permanently. That's eight years from now, so I won't have to deal with that now.

When I went to see the play today, I went to Mlle. Yasakova. It was nice talking to her, but I always get a sick feeling afterward. She's getting involved with M. Pei--who is just bad news no matter how or where you put him. Anyways, I told her what I thought of the matter, but everything depends on her decision. She's a grown-up now. She's making her own decision.

But it's my scattered thoughts that keep me sane.

I am finally, legally 18!

I've been feeling so empowered lately. Usually, I'm the kind of person who just floats in life. Now, I want to be person who actually tries. I want to actually do my best, actually study this last semester of high school. I want to be a person deserving of the gifts and advantages that I've received.

My mother's just left for Vietnam a couple of minutes ago. It's hard to believe, but I was kind of sad to see her go. Usually, I couldn't careless. Well, that sounds cold and heartless, but I know she's coming back, so I'm not that worried. Can you believe she's taking my camera with her? I'm useless for three weeks!

Yesterday, I saw M. Naylor again. He greeted me first, and then gave me a hug. I suspect that he was high the whole time we were having a conversation. I mean, he was talking normally, but the way he bobbed his head as he walked was kind of suspicious. Anyways, he walked me to class and gave me another hug. Okay, so he's gone for a year and now he's giving two hugs in five minutes? Definitely odd.

My thoughts are all over the place. They can't seem to settle down. I've done this really neat watercolor painting and hopefully that's good enough for by breadth and quality. I hate how seldom I update this blog now and I can't even update it right. I'll do better next time, I promise.

My dream living room right there.

And you're sorry that the ephemeral beauty has faded so rapidly

This week is going to be exciting. I love checking my planner and finding out that I have days booked with fun events. Tomorrow, our AP Art class is going on a field trip to Old Town to meet local artists and have them instruct us on art-making and gallery-etiquette. I do love the architecture in Old Town. It is very quaint and lovely. Mme. Mills says field trip, us seniors are thinking more a long the line of excursions. It'll be so much fun tomorrow.

Then, when I get home, I'll get to photograph the lovely Mlle. Johnston. She'll be made up with red lipstick and dark, smokey eye make up. I'm going for the femme fatale kind of look, but maybe not quite so dangerous. She does have such a pretty and interesting face.

Anyways, I took pictures outside of Mme. McElroy's house yesterday while my brother had his lesson with her. There was a beautiful cherry blossom tree outside, and the lighting was just right, so I couldn't resist.

A woman's best love letters are always written to the man she is betraying.

Dearest Barnard,

I may have come off as standoffish, but I want you to know my true feelings. Please accept me as I am, for I have fallen head-over-heels in love with you. Others find your special interest in females as a fault, but I find it endearing. You will teach me the ways of the world like no one else can. I know you will love me too if you just look past my aloof demeanor, so please just say those wonderful three words: "I accept you."

I will be yours truly, forever and always.

Tram

Those who let it happen, those who make it happen, and those who wonder what happened.

I was playing The Sims 3 yesterday, and, instead of my normal game, I started a new one with a pretty young girl who lived by herself. I was just kind of spacing out and had the screen at her house. She wasn't home and the house was dark, but the moment she came home, the lights came on, illuminating the dining room in such a way that makes me want to keep my own apartment.

It'll be small, of course. Small but cozy. I'll live there by myself and greet my guests in something like this.

(except the material will be chiffon instead of satin--satin makes it look too much like a nightgown. And it'll be in white or a really sweet pastel nude color.)

I'll keep it nice and clean, with fresh flowers in vintage wine bottles like these.

It's too much to ask for, but I would love to date or be courted by a guy who'd send me flowers on special days. White roses are too bland, I think. Red roses seem more intense, but I personally prefer yellow, blue, and violet roses. They seem so much more exotic and I like them a lot more.

Anyways, I'll make sure the apartment smells nice with the flowers and candles. I'll drink a warm cup of tea every morning with my pills. The apartment will be simplistic and white, with the color of the furniture--probably grey or like, a sea foam grey--as the only accent. My coffee table will be covered with fashion books. I'll have a mannequin thing in my room so I can plan my outfits in advance. I'll have one of the really cool necklace hangers.

I'll have a closet full of dresses, hopefully from this site. It has the most beautiful dresses I've ever seen.

That's all for today. I actually looked up the apartments in NYC, and it'll cost me about $3000 or more per month for a decent apartment in Manhattan. It'll probably be just a little bit cheaper in Brooklyn or something. All this gets me so excited, but I don't know if I can manage to live by myself. I mean, seriously, I can't even unclog my own toilet. And sometimes I have nightmares and need to be held by my mother.

Well, this is basically my plans right now:

• Freshman year: Get a job once at college while maintaining good grades, good community service hours at local hospitals, good participation in extracurricular actives, and a decent social life. Study for the MCAT. Take French and ballet. Save up money to study abroad. Save money for apartment.
• Sophomore year: Study French intensely. Still do ballet. Study for the MCAT. Work while maintaining good grades, good community service hours at local hospitals, good participation in extracurricular actives, and a decent social life.Save money to study abroad. Save money for apartment.
• Junior Year: Go abroad!
• Senior Year: Apply to Columbia Medical School. Get in. Save up money for apartment.

It's a given that I should look good while doing all of these things. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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