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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Diet:

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

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

Skincare:

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

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

Make-Up:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

While there is perhaps a province in which the photograph can tell us nothing more than what we see with our own eyes, there is another in which it proves to us how little our eyes permit us to see.

So, Mlles. Smith and Johnston and I were really excited about the photo shoot today. I saw Mlle. Hopkins and verified that she could indeed take Mlle. Jang's place since Mlle. Jang wanted me to take her pictures after she got her braces off.

Mlle. Smith came to my house first. We re-curled her hair. She looked lovely with the dress on even though the dress was pink. She looked even prettier with red lipstick. And then Mlle. Johnston came, undressed and un-made-up, but she only took five minutes to get ready. They both looked very lovely, and I felt kind of plain in comparison because I was only wearing my bikini and a peasant top over and they were decked in maxi dresses, with curled hair, and red lipstick. Mlle. Hopkins called and apologized for not being able to come because something urgent came up that last minute. We ran late to the beach and had to take Mlle. Johnston's car since her car was big enough for the vintage chair that I dragged along. Well, we didn't even use it.

The beach was horrible! It was cold, and the tide rose every five minutes, which made it hard for me to take pictures. Mlles. Smith and Johnston have never met, so they were kind of awkward together, but luckily they followed my instruction very nicely, although Mlle. Johnston constantly looked annoyed and older than she was because the corners of her mouth were always pushed back. I managed to make her relax a couple of times and those photos turned out great. Sometimes she over-posed, in contrast to Mlle. Smith, who would sometimes wandered off frame just because. Sometimes she looks dead in the pictures, but when she doesn't, she looks GREAT! And once we just hit a spot where I didn't know what I wanted them to do and so they just stood around awkwardly. So I suggested that Mlle. Johnston pick up my vintage camera (well, technically, it is Mme. Mills'), and I'll take pictures of her trying to take pictures of me with it. Well, she's not a photographer, so she held the camera like this:

When you're supposed to hold it like this:

This way allows one hand to support the lens and steady the camera and the other to readily cover the shutter button. First thing I learned in photography class.

Anyways, while that was going on, Mlle. Smith wandered off (surprise surprise) and next thing I knew, she was hiking back toward us with a huge-ass stick in her hand. I was like, "Stop right there! Lean on the stick, please! [Mlle. Johnston], go sit in front of her." Things kind of went up after that.

At the beach, Mlle. Johnston got cut. All of hair got messed up. We shaved this morning because of the weather and the sand rubbed against that the wrong way and it hurt. And then my brother called and said my mother called and she said she was coming. An hour ago. So we rushed home and Mlle. Smith rushed the chair back upstairs since she said I was a twig and couldn't possibly carry it. Then I looked at the pictures and my heart nearly dropped. There only a couple good ones out of about 120 photos for how much trouble I've caused them. I mean, they said they really liked modeling for me, but I know it's time consuming and hard, and I greatly appreciate them taking the time to do their hair, make-up, and dress the way I've requested.

Anyways, I may not be a great photographer, but I am one heck of an editor (just saying). I went through each picture and tried to improve it to the best of my abilities and ended up with about 16 decent to really good ones. I'm just happy I have more than ten photos to prove all the trouble we've went through and a great day that we had.

I'm so glad I have pretty friends.

But seriously, taking pictures at the beach is a pain! Everything is so unpredictable and overwhelming. It's not a feeling I like to have, but something I want to master. But working with Mlles. Smith and Johnston kind of makes me wonder if having three models is a good idea when working with two is this exhausting. Well, there's always things to overcoming. But I probably won't do more than five models. Four is too even.

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!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, so possible explanations:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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