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.

The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched, they must be felt with the heart .

Okay. Crappy start to a crappy day. I found out today through Early Evaluation from Wellesley College that "unlikely" will I be join their 2015 class. LAME. That's okay, Wellesley wasn't my first choice. My first choice is Barnard, but now I'm incredibly worried because Barnard is more selective than Wellesley and I can't even get into Wellesley. So, I'm wishing, hoping, praying that the reason Wellesley rejects me is because I am not the right fit, which I am for Barnard! Please, please, please let me get in.

I was worrying all evening; I couldn't do homework; I just surfed College Confidential, looking for someone to say, "Oh, Barnard? What's that? An all-girl school? Eww. Even living in New York is not worth going to a girl school. That school is so easy to get in because nobody applies there." Nobody did say that, unfortunately. Somebody did say, however, to stop stressing because I did all that I could and now it is out of my hand.

Good things come to those who waits. Well, I'm waiting. I'm waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting, and I'm sick of waiting. I want to go and get it myself, but I don't have the means to do it. To acquire the means to do it, I have to wait for a bit longer. Well, I hate waiting. I am terrible at waiting.

M. Brucker from English class got kicked out because he didn't show up to class; Mlle. Johnston's crush turns her off because she realizes how much of an asshole he is.

My God, please excuse my French. I don't know why, but I currently find the word "ass" very attractive and fun to say. Like, "that's a huge-ass bird" and "that's a French-ass name, Yvonne." I need to stop cussing so much. It is not at all lady-like. To do that, I have to stop hanging out with Mlle. Hatfield and Johnston. They both use terms like "whore" and "slut" as endearment. Well, more Mlle. Hatfield than Mlle. Johnston, but Mlle. Hatfield uses "hon" and "sweetie", so shit stuff cancels out.

I called Mme. McElroy today to reschedule our weekly piano lessons to have her daughter pick up the phone and informing me that her mother had taken a turn for the worse and probably would not be teaching anymore; she couldn't even talk. It's really sad. I won't say I hope she gets better because I've been saying it every since her body hinted at being cancerous, so it obviously doesn't work. God, I feel so horrible because my brother and I would get really happy whenever she called and canceled our lessons because of her bad back or funky health.

Life is an endless struggle full of frustrations and challenges, but eventually you find a hair stylist you like.

I am in love with my new hair! Mlle. Hatfield came over today and dyed it for me like I'd asked her to last week. Before, it was a dark brown, almost black, color. Now, it's completely black and I love it! Thank God for Mlle. Hatfield!

Mlle. Johnston needs to stop dating ugly boys, period. She's so pretty, and I hate to see it being wasted on people who don't deserve it. I found out today that she dated M. Reith, who is the ugliest and most-mutated looking kid I've ever laid eyes upon. He doesn't even have a nice personality; he was a complete jerk to her when they were dating. He was the one who broke up with her, but the problem now is that the guy that Mlle. Johnston likes is M. Reith's best friend. We are hoping that guys don't follow the "you can't date your best-friend's ex" rule, and, if they do, Mlle. Johnston would be an exception because her ex broke up with her.

I wonder how other people see me. Do they think I'm attractive? I think I'm not the most attractive girl out there, but I think I'm prettier than the average plain Jane, which, of course, isn't saying much. Like, in the morning, the girl I see in the morning is very exotic and attractive, but sometimes I think she isn't me. Like, I just feel like I've somehow made a pact with the devil by putting on make-up and now he's sending someone to takeover my reflection. After the switch is flipped, the lights in my bathroom stays dark for two seconds before flickering for another three seconds before truly coming on. During those seconds in the dark, I always keep my eyes away from the mirror because I'm so scared of seeing another person there, staring at me in the dark. I did it once after wearing make up. I was tired and I just walked in without thinking and was so freaked out by seeing a dark figure in the dark lurching toward me. The lights came on, and I found myself staring at my reflection. Creepiest thing ever. If something happens to me in the future, the police will probably check my laptop first and when they do, they'll see the I visit blogger and this blog more than once a week. They'll have to hack into my account on my laptop, though, but once they do they'll look through my history and find out about this blog. They will read it and know what's happened to me.

Okay. That's all. God, I'm freaking myself out.

This is one of the reasons why I can't live alone. My overactive imagination makes things really scary at night.

The moment a little boy is concerned with which is a jay and which is a sparrow, he can no longer see the birds or hear them sing

I've figured out why I've been so depressed the last few days. Aunt Flo's a bitch pain every month.

It's not nice and lady-like to cuss.

So, I've been having problems with Calculus class lately. Mme. Kennedy, my Calculus AB teacher from last year, is very helpful, but I don't have time to ask her for help. Like, I get it when she does it on the board, but when she explains it to me one-on-one, I just hear a bunch of "secant" and "tangents'' and numbers, which signal to my brain to shut down. Numbers and directions are almost always stimulants for the brain to wander somewhere else. Before, I was staying behind after school for an hour to work on my Calculus homework because God knows I don't do it once I get home. I always have a really schedule for the day that I throw away the moment I step in the house. But now that I'm tutoring M. Hashime (for $10 an hour, four times a week), I have to do my homework at home, something that I've been doing very conscientiously. I am so proud of myself for that.

Anyways, today, there's a new boy in my English class. At first, I don't really realize that he was new. I just thought that he needed to talk to Mme. Berman and was from another period. I am spacing out (a habit that I really need to quit) and when I come to, I see him smiling at me. He's really cute and of average height. His name is M. Brucker. He looks new to the school, but I guess he's been here first semester. He's jock, though, and I'm kind of iffy about that. Mlle. Johnston agrees with me about him being cute and comments on how nice his abs must be since he's a jock. That girl needs to stop being so obsessed with nice abs. Mme. Berman sits him on my side of the class at the end, far, far away from me and Mlle. Johnston. The other girls check him out constantly during class. Mme. Berman brought cookies to class, and we got to eat them. She called out our names and said really nice things to each one of us. She compliments me on my intelligence and my lovely outfits, and Mlle. Johnston on her ballerina-ness.

I'm so glad that I'm taking more College Prep classes this year. Advance Placement boys are nerdy and boring. College Prep boys are cute--too bad they lack the grey substance.

I hope mine and M. Brucker's path cross in the very, very near future. Before prom, hopefully.

I also found out that Mlle. Johnston smokes regularly--although she claims to have tame her smoking habits and decrease the regularity of intake. She knows it's bad, but she likes doing it. God, what am I going to do with that girl. She's eighteen, so it's legal. I can't believe she smokes--she has teeth way whiter than mine and I have never smoked and never ever ever will.

People who build their houses in your heart.

Mlle. Smith and I just kind of shared how we felt about this little predicament we constantly finds ourselves in this year. It's the closest to a heart-to-heart I've ever been with anybody, and it was barely anything.

Anyways, I've long gotten over Mlle. Velasco and Mlle. Yasakova, and I am glad that Mlle. Smith is too. It was actually Mlle. Velasco anyways; I've never really clicked quite right with Mlle. Yasakova and am actually glad to see her go. It was Mlle. Velasco who I always have a jolly time with, but if she wants out, then who am I to stop her? I mean, I've tried getting the four of us back together at my sleepover, but that apparently didn't work. If it is just me and Mlle. Smith who are putting effort into this unrequited relationship, why should we bother at all?

Mlle. Smith and I can have fun by ourselves. We'll go to Catalina after graduation to spend a weekend there. Mlle. Velasco and Yasakova can suck it for all I care.

During Mme. Berman's lecture, Mlle. Johnston went on a poking rampant. I must have jumped out of my seat when I felt the first poke. Anyways, she poked me to let me know that during my walk back to M. Dowden's class, she was watching me and thought I was really pretty with the wind in my hair. She said I had a very satisfied and accomplished look on my face. My God, that was probably that funniest thing someone'd ever said to me because when I was walking back to M. Dowden's room, I happened to forget which one was his, so I just picked a random room (which turned out to be right) and was thinking, "Eff this. If it's wrong, it's wrong. I'll go to the next room if it's wrong."

Mlle. Johnston also found a person to fall in love with. He's a homeschool-er. Our grade. Very cute, tall, and tan. With very, very nice abs. I hope they'll get together and she'll take him to prom. She's pretty and does not deserve to settle for ugly boys like her ex-boyfriend.

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.

Of all the animals, the boy is the most unmanageable.

I've just remembered something from Thursday, the day we went to see "Master Harold" and the Boys that makes me kind of really mad. Mlle. Yasakova let it slip during a conversation that the reason she missed my birthday party was because she was on a date with someone she barely knew. He'd asked her the night before while I sent out my save-the-dates three weeks in advance. I wasn't paying attention, but now that I remember that part of the day, I am so incredibly miffed.

The Borders in O. is closing. I've had six years of memories with that store. Since my parents always take us to work with them, the bookstore was the only place to escape boredom. We would slip away every chance we got and hung out there reading books and magazines until it was time to go. And now they're closing it. Anchor Blue was closed a few days ago, but I am so much more bummed out about Borders closing. It's like a little piece of my childhood and memory taken from me. I wish things didn't change as much. I wish things would just stay the way they are, suspended in space and time, letting me come to terms with growing up at my own pace instead of taking things from me and forcing me to go faster.

On a happier note...when I was there today, I saw this little baby. Well, she wasn't technically a baby. She couldn't talk, so I'd say she was at most two. Anyways, I was reading, but every time I looked she was staring intensely at me. At first, I was like of surprised and taken back. Then I smiled at her. She just kept staring. I went back to my book, and when I looked back at her, she smiled at me. And then she gave me a little wave. Cutest little baby ever!

Here's another happy note...I talked to M. McElroy today! Eeek! That's terribly exciting. He called me and left me a voice message regarding my brother's piano lesson (oh, how boring. I wish it was about something else). I called back and got his mother. I talked to her, and she couldn't hear me very well and gave the phone to her son (thank God!). He wasn't very eloquent and he stumbled and um-ed a lot during our conversation regarding the time and place of my brother's performance, but he sounded very manly--something I heartily welcome after spending eight hours a day, five days a weeks in the company of immature, little boys. Anyways, we are coming over to their apartment tomorrow to take lessons, and hopefully I'll get to see him there, and, hopefully, he looks as good I as remember. There are few things better than gazing at an attractive male specimen.

Speaking of romantic interests, there's this guy that works for my parents. I don't really know his last name, so I'll just call him Monsieur X--since I am very fond of the painting Madame X, just saying. He's about 21 to 25, kind of nerdy looking--tall and thin and gawky, but it's cute that way. I never thought it would happen, but I developed a small crush on him last summer, when I practically lived at the shop. Well, it would have never worked out since we were from different world, and I very much prefer my world to his. Summer came and went, and I was no longer always at the shop. I met new people and surrounded myself with others who were superficially like me. Now that new variables were introduced, our old condition no longer applied. Our little world in the shop shattered, and my crush disappeared along with it.  The reason I mention him now is because I suspect the table's turned: he has a crush on me now. One can tell if one inspects closely enough, which I hope nobody is doing. It's a silly little crush, like my infatuation with him, and it'll be gone in no time.

Back to M. McElroy...nothing is going to happen with him either, I'm sure. It'll be highly inappropriate for him to be thinking of dating anyone while his mother is dying let alone one of her students.

Guess who bought another self-taught French book? MOI, bien sûr. That's probably already 90% of the French I know. Time to learn more.