All Nighters- when it is time to cut your losses and go to sleep

1) You begin to hallucinate. This is bad. Especially if you are particularly excitable. Remember: if you scream, you wake everyone up. And then the parents are not too pleased that you have stayed up so late.

2) Vessels in eye seem distorted/possibly burst, turning red. Get some shuteye. Or your eye just might explode. The validity of this is doubtful, but you are just tired enough to fear it.

More to follow, after sleep.

Internet: absolute communication, absolute isolation. --Paul Carvel

I think this is giving the mistaken impression that I am dying

This has never happened before. I guess what with college app deadlines coming up, and everyone else, and I mean everyone in that everyone important in my life, thus, my life, are also concerned about this lump in the future, I have so much nervous energy that it's building up, running inside my head and upside down on my eyelids, and now I feel like talking, and talking a whole lot.

Now, I am not a talkative person. I am the listener, and very often I couldn't talk even if I wanted to, because sometimes my mind fails to synthesize thoughts into coherent sentences.

So, imagine, when suddenly all the disjointed thoughts demand to be spoken, crashing everywhere and spilling out like disembowled guts. Have you ever tried holding in your disembowled guts? Hopefully not. Well, that is how I feel.

This is all I can manage

I have way too much stuff to do. Why does it seem like half of my grade is constantly in motion, keeping astride in a torrent of to-dos that would crush me, and the other half is at leisure, going to sleep at good times, well rested, and well prepared?

I envy both.

I cannot tell if I have a lot of work to do because of how I think, or because I actually have a lot of work to do. I do not know why I am always weary to the bone.

It's okay, I guess, because at least this way I don't have time to think. I don't have time to want anything else but this.

blurry incoherence muddled into hopeful accomplishment

My ninth grade english teacher told us that there were two types of views on civilization: linear, or a continued, straight line progression with a positive slope, and cyclical, which generally has to do with a pattern of rising and falling. Like a sine graph.

That's how writing is for me. All of the last academic year has been a flurry of essays and journaling. And now it's summer - I have time to actually write?

I have done nothing for college applications...

...a bunch of incoherent notes in my ideas notebook...

...half-started blog posts...

...half finished quilt...

...half-finished books...

...and this is a half thought out point.

Circles and no math and mind

By my posts I'd conclude that I haven't hit any highs or lows in a while. That's probably true. For the most part I've been stuck at a static state of restless indifference. Almost an oxymoron.

I've just been chewing at some questions, which seem to continue in a circular pattern around my head where there are no conclusions but a tangle of hypotheses and half-formed theories based on postulates that are questionable at best.

Faking until you make it...it's just manipulation of self-efficacy, isn't it?

Playing your own game is sketchy

I feel like I ought to do something. Something more useful than listening to music, solving a rubik's cube over and over, checking on my virtual reality games. There's scrapbooking to be done, college essays to be written, pictures to be taken for my mom. It's not much, but somehow I'm managing to do none of them. I don't dread the day I become productive - it's actually an exhilarating feeling - I just can't seem to stop doing nothing. So I'm blogging, while other people have internships and volunteering hours and work experience. This is the problem, isn't it? In golf, one of the things that all my coaches agreed on was that it was important not to worry about how everyone else was doing. It was important to just focus on one's own game. The competition isn't with everyone else, but with oneself.

Hm. There must be a much more eloquent way to word that.

Just focus inward?

No, I don't think it has to be a narrow, steely eyed concentration. It's not quite complacency either. It's almost a simultaneous awknowledgement of the situation tinged with quite indifference tempered with a clear objective. Being, I guess, "in the zone." Except with memory. Consciousness. And not in sports.

I'd wanted to do one of these

To the owner of the red minivan,

It is bad enough that the cars in front of me have already cleared out, despite the fact that the sign clearly says "Speed Limit 45 mph" and I am already pushing 50. Then you have to have your car lurk so close to mine, as if you are rushing to be at the side of your wife and your firstborn, only you can't, because I am trying to keep the car from veering out of control. I understand that I may be keeping you from a kodak moment, but I just can't stand it when you look at me like that. I am a very fragile person. With a very fragile driving confidence.

Sincerely,

Two-month old teen driver

My Summer Schedule

6:00 to 7:30 --Wake up

7:30 to 10:00 --Snooze/lie in bed

10:00 to 10:30 --Brush teeth and breakfast

10:30 to 12:00 --Computer time [games, pondering college essays, writing a sentence and going back to games]

12:00 to 4:00 --T.V. [comedy central] intermitently laced with computer and eating time

4:00 to 5:30 --Staring blankly at the wall pondering college essays

5:30 to 6:00 --Shower

6:00 to 10:00 [varies] --Dinner[with NCIS]

10:00 to 11:00 --Computer time

11:00 to 11:30 --Brush teeth

11:30 to 12:00 --Read Mental Floss History of the World

12:00 to 6:00 --Sleep

Conclusion: Should read more and rot brain less.

I lost my camera. My dad bought me a new one yesterday.

It bothers me that it's practically a parallel of a kid that crashes his car and gets a new one from his parents.

Is that it? I'm not sure why I want my parents to yell at me, to refuse to buy me another. Maybe I'm just a masochist.

I hate looking at the new camera. It hate that I was careless and I let my old one out of my sight. I hate that now more than ever I seem like this irresponsible, spoiled idiot.

How can this one mistake hurt so much? Why don't I have normal regrets about normal things?

Math is fun. Math is beautiful.

I apologize in advance. I will try not to laugh maniacally or melt into a puddle of smugness. It will be difficult, but I will try. A little.

Guess what I got on my math final?

Guess!

I'll give you a hint - it raised my grade 3 percent. Three percent.

I got 101!

As in the number of Dalmations.

I guess it should be a bit sad that this is really happy news for me. But it isn't. This definetely ranks on one of the list of Best Things That Have Happened to Me This School Year. Maybe number 4, or number 5. I have yet to actually make the list.

Finally. Finally, finally finally. I got 101 on the final. I have an A in math. It doesn't even matter that it won't show up on my high school transcript. Because when I go to college I'll laugh maniacally and shove my college transcript with my A [and B...] in everyone's faces. Then I will be sad because everyone will hate me.

Finally. I actually feel smart now. [It's wierd, how much you identify with what you're good at. Except when it fails. It's hard to continue believing that you're a good student if you can't even get good grades.]

I studied. Actually, that's not what I'm particularly proud of. I did study, in a cursory sort of way. But what the trick is, more than studying, is the ability to think when it really matters. And I'm happy, because finally, I did this. I probably went over both tests [it was a two-day final] five or six times, because the first time around only a few problems made sense. But relax, think, organize your mind, figure out what you know and what you need to find...

My math teacher is right. All of my math teachers from the past three years were right. Math is beautiful. Calculus is beautiful.

And now my excitement has worn off, and I'm slightly embarassed that after a long hiatus I have written another post about math.

Guess what?

I found this out yesterday.

And I still laugh/cry when I think about it.

Just listen to music - I am

Because my work ethic sucks...
Because I have to do my math homework right now. Again.
Because my brains are scrambled...
Because apparently the closer you get to me the more likely that the first impression of being intelligent turns into eccentricity....

I suggest that you go to youtube and listen to "Thunder" by Boys Like Girls. And while you're at it, look up "Forever Young" by Jay Z.

It pretty much sums up whatever it is I have to say without relying too much on my clumsy syntax.

I want to trade my heart for another brain.

Titleless because I'm just a number

This system of starving through the ap test then stuffing self with junk food from Jack in the Box isn't doing wonders for my health. Or sanity. Or sense of balance. I'm glad it's over.

But they were pretty fun, in retrospect. Maybe, just maybe, my essay writing can finally be deemed "good."

It would make me really happy.

A symphony of disagreeing body parts

I've always wondered at my lack of personality. Basically all I do is read, eat, study, sleep, and play bubble spinner.

I understand now. My personality isn't out there, in the real world. Perhaps this conversation that I had before and during ap testing will explain.

Car ride.
Mom: I got you sushi!
Me: No thanks.
Stomach: No. No sushi, please. I can't take it. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm about to barf.
Mom: Cookies?
Me: No thanks. Maybe later.
Stomach: I want to toss my cookies...
Heart: OMG OMG I REALLY WANT A 5 BUT I WON'T GET ONE.
Brain: Lenses. Burning point. p,q, kq over r square. Zen. You can do this you can do this.
Bladder: Um...guys?

At Testing Center.
Mom: Good luck!
Me:*smiles weakly*
Heart: Doppler effect. dadadadadadadadada
Brain: I wonder if AP Bio has gotten out yet? No? Yes? Hm...there are clumps of people outside the door. I really hope you're not late.
Stomach: I really hope we can find a trash can.
Bladder: :) There's a toilet in there!
Brain: kq over r squared kqover r squared..okay. I know that. Do I know anything else? Nope.
Me: *Wading over to the corner of the room near a bunch of backpacks squished on a plastic table.* Hi.
Brain: Study time! :)
Heart: Doppler effect. DA DA DA
Person: *studying*
Me: *studying*
Brain: *studying*
Heart: *people watching*

During Testing.
Brain: Hey, this isn't too bad...I think I can do this. No I can't. Yes...well...meeeeh....poop.
Stomach: Hm...I think I kinda want food...
Heart: I think I kinda want to stalk prom pictures.
Brain: Think think think think. Hm. I'm thinking about thinking but actually I'm not doing any thinking.
Stomach: Food?
Eyelid: *twitch*
Stomach: I seriously want some food now.
Brain: Be quiet.
Hand: Hey, brain? ...I wanna bubble. Are you going to solve these problems or not?
Brain: You too.
Stomach: FOOOD
Brain: SHUT UP.
Stomach: *grumble*

Breaktime:
Stomach: Food?
Hand: Bank cookie. Here.
Brain: Hm...am I going to be thirsty later?
Stomach: Hungry.
Brain: Fine.

Testing, part two.
Brain: Crap. I don't know how to do the first problem.
Mouth: I taste wierd.
Brain: Kinematics should be the easiest problem.
Throat: I'm thirsty.
Brain: I don't know how to find heat transfer. Or x or theta.
Heart: I DON' WANNA FAIL.
Brain: Gr....
Stomach: *growl*

Good grief. I hope I can't always be persuaded so quickly.

prom makes me want to cry

Prom is supposedly the zenith of every girl's life. That's really depressing. Prom makes me think about how old I'm getting. It makes me think about people pairing up and leaving. It makes me think about the future, which I think about more and more, and less about the past, which I'm mired in.

I want to go to prom but I'm afraid of what it represents. I want to go but it's not something I'll be able to go to easily. I'm fearless, excited, even, about the AP tests that are coming up within the week. They're fun and I like them. But if I go to prom I'll probably die of stress. I don't understand.

I hate it when I look at a guy and I lose track of my thoughts. I hate this bizarre focus on relationships, this tunnel vision that tunes out everyone else except for the significant other. I see couples walking through the school, and they are just a couple and no one else. Where are their friends? DON'T THEY SEE that there's plenty of time for that LATER? Okay, so prom isn't entirely about relationships, but it's mrrrhhhskft and trrpapd and durf.

This post is probably incoherent. There are just no words to describe this. It's like a tumbleweed of negative emotions and hormones and crap. My English teacher was right. Teenagers are too damn hormonal. I probably should see a doctor. Or I could just read a psycology book. Yeah. That's what I'll do. During prom night.

Math Homework makes me go Beserk

I really want to reformat my blog a little. I want to change my big picture. But later. I have to do my math homework. Again. Because the test is tommorrow. Because the teacher is teaching us "responsiblity," and "self-motivation." Getting us used to what we will experience in "college," and the "real world." That thing that adults have to do when they want something.

Once again, I have not embraced above ideas. So I'm trying to finish my math homework. Again. This happens before every single test. You'd think I'd learn, wouldn't you?

Or maybe not. You know how kids are.

Six Word Titles are Getting Old

I should make this blog more interesting. But I really don't know what to do with it right now.

Picture:

I once saw this thing on Yahoo! Answers where someone asked the internet to draw a logo for their school's geology club. I thought it'd be an interesting project, except by the time I got around to it, the question was closed. And now I have a random logo. I took the liberty of removing the school name from the picture. Anyone thinking about starting a Geology Club?

Sound and the Fury, William Faulkner

"I seemed to be lying neither asleep nor awake looking down a long corridor of gray halflight where all stable things had become shadowy paradoxical all I had done shadows all I had felt suffered taking visible form antic and perverse nocking without revelence inherent themselves with the denial of the significance they should have affirmed thinking I was I was not who was not was not who." [Sound and the Fury, 170]

Faulkner, I may not know exactly what Quentin is saying, but the passages are absolutely beautiful, even on the surface.

Aesthetics are so often admired without a consideration of substance, anyways. Sometimes, I guess it's okay to let the words wash over you.

A Conversation Lacking Concern About Safety

So today I said to my brother: Look at these!
Brother: Where did you get them?
Me: Mommy gave them to me!
Brother: But where are they from?
Me: China.
Brother *recoiling* They have lead in them.
Me: ...maybe...but they're shiny!

*Later*

Me: Hey, mom, do these have lead in them?
Mom: I don't know. Maybe.

Three Wishes on an Easter Evening

If I had three wishes...

1) I would wish I was braver. Just a little.

2) I would wish for money. I wouldn't care that it's a shallow wish, because money can do a lot of things: put me through college, build, write, travel, help.

3) The third wish I would save for later. Just in case.

Wheeee! Bright, youthful nonsensical misspelled title

I feel like dancing and singing. Currently there are other persons occupying this house. But that's okay, because I can just dance and sing in my head. I'll dance with Zen me, neurotic me, and the me that's rolling her eyes because of why I want to sing and dance.

I'm rocking out of Radio Disney. I've been listening to it pretty much nonstop since yesterday afternoon. Orginally it was just because I heard a really catchy tune on Disney Channel's NBT, so I searched it on Wikipedia, and found out that Radio Disney could be streamed through iTunes, under the pop and top forty section. I heard the song, and learned its name [A Different Side of Me] After an hour, but for some reason...I just kept listening. Within the last two days, I've heard "Today was a Fairytale" by Taylor Swift at least ten times, and "Baby" by Justin Bieber at least five. This is probably something I shouldn't share with my friends.

But the other major part of my happiness, I probably will share with my friends tommorrow, and then they'll probably stare at me and wonder how I managed to worm my way into their lives. Unless they also get really excited when they find a copy of a Dictionary of the Apostolic Church on Google. Yes. Great stuff. It's long passed into public domain and everything, so there's a full preview. I'd been looking up the etymology of my name, and the best I'd really hoped for was a snippet view. AND THERE WAS ALMOST AN ENTIRE PAGE IN THE DICTIONARY OF THE APOSTOLIC CHURCH!!!

One of 759 pages, so that's like .132 percent of the entire book!

Never mind that my name is really a variant of the original.

Bah

If I've really just been lost, even when I thought I was at the top of the world. There are no words. Rather, I can't find them.

There was a digression somewhere, but I can't remember it.

quid pro quo- a favor for a favor

Under silence is an active hub

I've concluded that I [or at least facebook-linked me] wields considerable influence over my peers. Several months ago, I began posting links to blogs that I liked [i.e., became obessed with]as my status.

Today, one of my friends posted this person's latest blog post on her wall.

And I had been afraid that I was spamming everyone.

I win.

On the flawed side of perfect

And today was one of the best days ever. There.

I've probably said that ten times since 3'o clock.

It was just a really nice lineup.

Productive weekend
Non-procrastinating monday
Sleeping in this morning
Lunch with friends on a beautiful day
Talking about zombies and world flooding
Short classes, but lots of things to do
Loaf of chocolate chip bread
Math homework
Songs
Yay

Here's me sounding like a tree

Do you know what's incredibly sad? I think I'm getting old. I don't mean the day by day aging - I mean the nostalgic, "Woah, has it really been that long?" kind of old.

Facebook is either the best or the worst invention on the internet. Best, because it allows us to "connect" with old friends. Worst, because more often than not, those friends only become pixels in a square that pops up on the homepage when they click around Facebook. Worst, because once in a while their photo albums pop up and you see them, and realize that they've gotten older.

It's the Grandparent problem, when they haven't seen you in years and suddenly they stare at you and gasp, "look how old you've gotten!" [or maybe that's really only a kid thing] and you stare at them because it does not seem like you have gotten older at all.

Sometimes it seems like my life is stagnant, like a frozen particle in a whirl of chaos, and all around I can see people growing and moving through life ahead of me and behind me and next to me. But I'm not moving. I am still. I am the only thing not moving. And I wonder how long it will be until I fall behind.

Communism and Marxism aren't good tags....

AHA!!!

Certain lyrics have a habit of sticking to my brain. Well, there was this one that had been bugging me for weeks, "the Jaeger's so sweet." I was too busy and too lazy to try to find the song that it belongs to, but it turns out that I needn't have bothered - it's from "Six Feet Under the Stars" by All Time Low. I was listening to the acoustic version, because I had been listening to "Remembering" by the same band, and had gone on itunes to look it up. And then I noticed the acoustic "Six Feet Under" was a bonus track and could only be bought with the album, so naturally I was curious and listened to it. And then I heard it!

It's amazing how some things work out.

On an unrelated note, I've been watching loads of junk t.v. recently. Namely, Millionare Matchmaker on Bravo, which is like a show where millionare [not rich, because with inflation and the graduated tax, even millionares are struggling. Not as much as the poor, but still, in their own way, struggling] men go and speed-date with a bunch of beautiful-and-smart-girls. All of this is presided over by the matchmaker Patti.

Anyways, one of the millionares is extremely religious, and he asked one of two girls that he picked to go on a mini-date what they thought about Christianity, or religion in general. And the girl said something like, "well, I personally think that the bible is just a bunch of made up stories to manipulate the masses, but I'm very spiritual."

And the look on that guy's face was something along the lines of "okay, you're out." Although it wasn't his face that made me laugh. It was what the girl said. I'm pretty sure that some communist or Marxist doctrine condemns religion as "an opiate for the masses." Or maybe I just read it in 1984. Or my history textbook. I really wish more people read this blog, because then maybe they could help. Because there's a significant distinction between communism and Marxism, and it's one of those things that educated people should know about, like the correct usage of 'irony.'

But unfortunately I never quite got into politcal ideologies, even though I've wanted to and I've thought it'd be interesting. I also couldn't recognize irony if it shot me in the face.

Dear Self,

Your definition essay sucks. It is due tommorrow. Get off your blog and go fix it.

Sincerely,
You

My Thoughts Branch off to Infinity

I spent my saturday drawing maps for history. It was quite amazing, actually. 12 straight hours of mindless devotion. And my maps are amazing. One for before WWI, one for after WWI.

How did I do it?
-Printed out a black and white map
-Traced the country borders in ink
-Taped a blank sheet of paper over it and put it against the window to trace the outlines in pencil
-Made a copy of the pencil drawing
-Traced the copy of the pencil drawing in ink
-Color
-Name
-And repeat

I have a sneaking suspicion that my posts are mostly about homework. And that no one really cares.

Well, fine.

I'll talk about Imogen Heap. Because it was her song [The Walk] that I listened to for most of the 12 hours. I don't know much about her, except that she used to be a part of Frou Frou, and that she's English. But I love her songs, and somehow they always mean something to me.

It's really amazing when someone can write/sing something that a random person can understand. I wish I could do that.

Me: Blah blah blah
Random Person: OMG! That's what I think sometimes when I'm happy/alone/doubting myself/doing homework. I feel better now!

There has to be more than pure genetics in a person. More than environment. Two people can enter the same room and emerge miles apart. Is it just pure chance? A coin that is tossed with two possibilities that lands with one?

I feel, sometimes, that I know nothing. Everything that's ever crept or been crammed in my brain is insignificant, because all the unknowns of the universe rounds off way before my decimal place. Sometimes I don't understand what's going on around me. And I wish I did. Sometimes I wish I knew and understood everything. But then my pitiful brain would probably explode. There must be a cost for omniscience.

*cough* I just realized - I have a lot of homework to do.

Seriously though: The Walk. Imogen Heap. Look it up.

Stupid people with goals.

You make me feel like a loser with no purpose.

Thanks.

And by the way, there is no purpose.

So ha.

Just a little poem for kicks

Life is like a sine graph.

It's nice.

You can always rely on it to get better, or worse.

It's very consistent.

[Sine graphs and life]

Math is fun.

And it burns calories, too.

A four hour decision that's done

So three and a half hours later...

I think I've finally chosen my classes for next year. I'm feeling relieved and doubtful and regretful. Because there are so many classes that I realize I won't be able to take. This is it.

That makes me sad.

But this scheduling problem has been gnawing at the back of my mind for weeks, so I'm also glad that it's over. My decision is final.

But...since I have no one else to talk to...I'm gonna just run the list by you. I think typing it all out will make me feel better. [I don't remember doubting the last 3 times I picked classes...]

AP English Literature: English is required. AP means that I have a 50% chance of getting one of two awesome teachers [one that is confirmed, the other that is hearsay but from a very reliable source]

Advanced Topics: My third required math credit, since this year's doesn't count. Project based, supposedly laid back. But interesting, because it involves computers [which I spend a lot of time with] and math [which I rant about but has really been good to me] and art and community service [which should be good for me. And the community. I don't completely believe in true altruism, okay?] And it's not AP Statistics. Which sounds ugly. The only benefit is it's "real world applications." But let's be honest. I don't care about standard deviation. Poo on stats and yay for conceptual calculus projects.

AP Government/AP Macro Economics: They are required. Originally I was just going to take them as APs because it seemed "fun" and a "good idea." But also, because I want to learn more about governments and the economy because I pretty much know nothing about those two topics. Apparently they're wickedly difficult. But I took AP Chemistry, which gets the "hardest class in the school" award. [And you got a C...] But then...my current history teacher mentioned that regular Economics is Micro Economics, something about personal finances, while AP Economics is more about economic theory and national economies and the grand scheme of things. And now I'm uber-excited. One semester each...no problem.

AP Physics C: Probably the most no-brainer course selection on this list. Suceeds AP Physics B. Which I am currently taking. And C comes after B.

AP Biology: This one made me cringe a bit. Because I am scared. It is probably the closest class to AP Chemistry [though Erin says it's so much easier. Though she truly loves biology. And I don't love anything. Unconditionally. With regards to classes, of course.] But I think my brave side beat up my wimpy, I-don't-want-to-do-homework side. Or perhaps I just duct-taped all of the little voices in my head and I made the decision when I was brain dead.

Intro to Law: New course. Mystery. But seems to involve law, and speaking to real people. Face to face. It should be good for me.

Classes I now kinda want to take but will probably not get the chance to take:
AP Art History
AP Music Theory
AP Psychology [I console myself with the fact that the teachers aren't very good anyways]
Sculpture.

I think I made a well-balanced schedule. I picked classes I was interested in, right? I'm being reasonable.

Let's just say, hypothetically, that I didn't. That next year is going to be a nightmare.

Well, it is my senior year of high school.

Last chance for free public education.

Just do it.

Yeah, go for it.

Well, you only live once. :)

I struggle with a faint conscience

Do you know those moments where your mind registers one thing, zeros in...and then nothing else matters?

Well, that just happened to me.

I was washing my hands, like I do every half-hour. I turned, reached for the towel, and froze.

O. M. G. [Sadly, my exact thoughts]

There were gummy worms on the counter.

Yes, it's late...
Yes, I should do some homework...
Yes, I could do the resposible thing and wait to eat them, like I waited for everthing else...

Or I could just eat them all. Uncontested. [My brother just went to bed.]

Okay, that would be stupid. I'm taking five. But they'd better be the red kind.

Make one more wrong turn tonight

I should stop taking hiatuses after bad posts. This one isn't much better.

But at least it's a change in scenery. Have a picture.

Cute, huh? I saw it on the boat in Alaska. We're on a boat!

Forgive my song references and lame attempts at humor. I am having issues with my subjective definition essay. What word's important to you?

What's said, who says it, why?

I'm alright, and even amused when my English teacher saying that our essays suck, but irked when my history teacher says virtually the same thing.

I guess it really does matter who says things. Or maybe it was the way the words were being said. It's not fair, really, I know. Yet it's how I feel.

Some people just have the persona and reputations to pull things off.

Distractions x6

It is, unfortunately, all too easy to waste time. I convince myself to continue listening to music/reading/not doing homework for just five more minutes, ten more minutes, until the end of the hour.

And then my mind is in such a vegetative state that I can't even think of anything to write.

And thus, I don my identity

One last thought before I go off to homework-land. I like the username ShineforLife. But I need a name. Like a normal one. I like my given name but I've always been fascinated by pseudonames. It's not to be creepy. It's partially inspired by paranoia, and the fact that I like my real name too much to expose it to cyberspace. I've had a few before, but I think I want to choose a new one.

Something nice. Probably Greek. I'm not Greek, but we do live in a salad bowl, so why not?

Something like....

Asia

Like it? It means resurrection. It's pithy and funnily encompassing of everything I wanted it to encompass. Just imagine confetti fluttering around. I must do homework. The sun's fire has long been quenched in wine-dark sea.

I think to myself and sigh

I just went back and put labels on a bunch of posts. It's funny how I'm too sick and too tired to do my homework, but not too much that I can't blog. Not really. This is just typical.

Wanna know what hydrographia means? Hydrographia: Creating an illusion of reality through vivid description of water.

There's a bunch of these enargia-like rhetorical devices. There's one that creates an illusion of ditto through a vivid description of a tree.

I don't understand how that would work. Would it be like a metaphor? What is meant by "an illusion of reality"?

All I can think of is "the moonlit bark glistened in the night air. sprawling branches pierced velvet sky, mirroring roots that grasped crumbling earth"

But that's just normal description, isn't it? Is it that in describing the tree, the rest of reality is revealed? Is dendrographia just a more specific description? Should I be confused by this?

My eating habits need serious help

I'm having a food problem. You know that saying, "eat breakfast like a king, eat lunch like a prince, eat supper like a pauper"?

Well, it's not working for me. Most mornings my dad turns on the lights to my room and I drag myself out of bed to brush my teeth and dress and eat. I usually reserve 10-20 minutes for eating and packing lunch, so while I do get breakfast, it's not usually very healthy.

Then I go to school. Lunch varies. Sometimes, if my dad makes it or I find something to make a sandwich with [or I just pop a lean pocket in the microwave], it's good.

Then I go home and eat a snack. My snack is usually lunch sized. After snack comes an assortment of scattered meals. Imagine Hansel and Gretel leaving their trail of crumbs. At first, they drop chunks of bread. Then after a certain point [say, 4:30], the discernable chunks become a constant stream of bread.

First there's dinner around 6:30. Then every half and hour after that, a parent pops by the desk where I'm trying to do homework.

"Want more dinner?"

"Want to eat oranges?"

"Want to eat cake?"

And then I pop into the kitchen to refill my cup of water and I spot my dad spooning this dark jelly into a bowl.

Me: "Ooh, can I have some?"

Dad: "Sure."

And I spend twenty minutes slurping down condensed milk and a mysterious grass jelly that resembles obsidian.

I'm surprised I'm not obese.

I think it's the Calculus. I read once that difficult math problems burn calories.

"All alone, it's a sorry sight"

I'm not quite sure what to say, except that I don't have much homework tonight. And Lights is definetely getting stuck in my head.

Something that kind of annoys me: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/us_university_diversity_calif;_ylt=AtAg9YYeqk9cgG87_5CgMIkUewgF;_ylu=X3oDMTNpZ2xhbHRuBGFzc2V0A2FwLzIwMTAwMjE3L3VzX3VuaXZlcnNpdHlfZGl2ZXJzaXR5X2NhbGlmBGNjb2RlA21vc3Rwb3B1bGFyBGNwb3MDNwRwb3MDNwRzZWMDeW5fdG9wX3N0b3JpZXMEc2xrA2NhbGlmcmFjZS1iYQ--

The law that bars the University of California from considering race in student
admissions violates the civil rights of black, Latino and Native American
students who are underrepresented at the state's most prestigious campuses and
blocked from seeking redress through the school's governing board, a
class-action lawsuit filed Tuesday alleges.

No, it doesn't violate any civil rights. Race not being a consideration is a good thing. It means we're looking past such superficial things and moving towards merit.

Okay, there are concerns that there aren't enough black and latino students at universities. But there is a higher pecentage enrolled than in 1996. It's getting better.

I was going to write more here, but it ended up being very rant-like and desperate.

*sigh* Now how to end this?

I want to go to college. I want to learn. And I want colleges to like my resume and accept me[-which they won't, because your GPA sucks. -Be quiet]. So it would be against my personal interests if colleges are forced into pumping more other students in soley based on race. It's not fair. [-Life sucks, get over it. -Well, we don't have to make it worse.]

I wish we could just get over the race thing. I'm neither white nor black nor [read all over] hispanic. I'm asian. But more than that [yeah, yeah, I'm a human being.]

Sorry about the side comments. My head voices are bouncing all over my brain.

Reach a-little more; we love anyway

I find myself composing blog posts in my head - really, it makes me cringe when I think about how much time I devote to what's in my head rather than what's in front of my face. I think I have had at least 3-4 different posts worked out. But I've forgotten those now, and this blog thing really should be unplanned.

I can't keep hiding. My instincts tell me to just curl up in a ball and remain motionless. Maybe then this gigantic destructive monster will not notice me. But that's not going to happen, because the monster has me on radar. If I stood up and faced the monster [wow, this is very cliche-y] I might survive. Might being the key word here because I am weak [my golf coaches have been harping at me to work out for years. But no. I sit and read.]

It's hard to break out of a passive shell when the mere thought of leaving the house with no objective or talking to a grocery store clerk makes me break out in cold sweat.

I know that I can't keep heading down this road to nowhere. I can't just sit at my desk and my computer and plough on through my homework and pretend that everything will stay exactly the same. This may well be the time that things do not work out by themselves.

Don't I want a voice? Don't I want to "suceed"? Don't I want to make a difference? Of course I do.

Maybe I just don't want it enough?

Careful -Paramore
Light- Next to Normal

Should've left prep book at home

Our family has problems packing for trip. No, we never underpack.

When someone says, "Hey, where's the lotion?"

They won't get a "I have no idea."

It's more like, "Do you want Aveeno, SPF 15, or the scented kind?"

And that's why we have 6 bags of luggage for a 1 day trip.

Throat is sore, mind the pop

The sore throats are really annoying. They make me sweat. Like a cold sweat. So that my face feels like it's burning up even as the rest of my body is cold and clammy. And then when the sore throat fades, sometimes it is replaced by a dry cough, and runny nose. And if I don't blow my nose often enough, my cough becomes phelgmy and throaty.

...

Did you know they now have cough medicine in little packets where you can twist off the top and drink it like soda pop?

I can't believe I just said "soda pop."

That's a nappe - I said cone!

Math jokes crack me up

So I guess I'm on an upswing now. Maybe it's a combination of resolution and hearing Breakfast at Tiffany's on the radio this morning and math. Some english classes are doing six word memoirs, so I thought I'd actually start having titles to my posts, and make them six words long.

I'm probably going to rant and rave about math for a little while, because I have a sore throat and I can't for the life of me focus on writing my subjective definition for English.

My math teacher is awesome. We're learning about surfaces in 3-D, and during notes, she gave us an example where we had to find the curve created by the intersection of an ellipsoid and a parabolic cylinder. And she used her awesome Mathematica program to graph it all and when she showed us the curve someone was like, "It's a Pringle!" And it was - I'd post a picture, but I'm way too lazy right now. Maybe later. Anyways, she then proceeded to hand out little cartons of Pringles and we each got one, even though food is forbidden in classrooms. But it was okay, because they were "instructional materials," and we couldn't eat them, of course. But she let us keep our Pringles, and then she covered her eyes for about two seconds and ignored the collective crunch. Ah, yes. She called it the power of advertising - that kids could look at a curve and immediately recognize it as Pringle-shaped. She told us that it really was a saddle shape, or a hyperbolic paraboloid.

That Pringle was good. Now I wish she brought snacks when she told us that cones are not actually a typical cone like an ice cream cone, but in fact, two of them, with the pointy ends connected. One of them is technically a "nappe." Or even that other time when she called donuts "dough-naughts" - zeroes made of dough.

...

I'm hungry now.

Shopping list:
- Salted hyperbolic paraboloids
- vanilla nappes
- dough-naughts

So I got a Naviance.

It's this thing where you sign up and it creepily already knows your gpa and sat scores and then you can click on schools and graph yourself with other people who applied and got accepted or rejected. So you can see how you rank. So you can see yourself as a circle on a graph with green squares and red x's. The green squares are thick envelopes, elation [or smugness, or "oh, I already expected that."] The red x's are people who took a deep breath and moved on, or were crushed. The bland, black circle is me, staring at the x's and squares and trying to determine how safe - or how close I am.

But of course Naviance doesn't tell you that. Naviance is just a statistical machine - and we are the data.

Apparently sleep deprivation is linked to depression.

I'm not particularly sleep deprived, though.

Great.

It's raining.

Hehe, I just ordered two boxes of thin mints.



And I'm doing my math homework again. But on time. Yay.



Funny thing. I often quote my favorite teachers. My parents may not know what classes I'm taking, but they know that if I say, "Mr./Mrs. ___ said/says that ...." I like that teacher. I liked my 9th grade English teacher, and I think I did quote her. But there's one thing that she said that stuck with me that I never mentioned to anyone.

I forget what book we had been discussing. But all of a sudden she began to talk about her and her sister's relationship, how they had been close before, how it had taken a back seat when her sister got married. Because the significant other becomes the priority, and the family unit that perhaps results from that is the main focus.

As a teenager, girls like say that friends come before boys, always. But I don't think that's true for older, married people. Even now the conviction of the people that say that is doubtful. Because, after all, your spouse is your true best friend.

It's raining!

And I am going to write. All is good. :)

One of these days I should think of a topic before I blog



Maybe then my blog posts wouldn't be a sprawling mess of words and sugar-induced ideas.



I'll write about the future

----5:21----
[Yes, I'm kind of obessive about dating and putting times on my writings now. Well, the time thing can be reined back. I really like knowing the date, though.]

I feel like my emotions are like a sine graph that drank too much tea. Just a little while ago I felt myself slipping into depression and loneliness. And now I feel perfectly fine, if a little tired. I wonder how often my moods do fluctuate. Because I distinctly remember times when I just wanted to sit alone and wallow in music and misery. Then times when I desperately wanted someone to call and talk to me even though only about two people besides my family and my golf teammates knows my cell phone number. And then there's euphoria, giddiness bubbling up and filling the world with spontaneous laugher. My favorite is contentment, because it's when I'm proud or working [I like the feeling that I get when I accomplish something, or even when I'm working to accomplish something. I feel that, "hey, I'm not a bane one society, I have worth, here's me showing that." I don't mean that in a self-deprecating way. It's one thing to know you're part of something, quite another to feel like it.] or spending time with friends [These moments are the best - they're the ones I'm afraid to lose most, when we grow up and move apart and have our own budding, separate lives.].

Anyways, I should draw a graph plotting emotions - for two months. And see what happens.

10:52 I feel my resolve crumbling. I want to go to sleep. Not because I'm particularly tired [though I am] but because I just don't want to do this anymore. I want to give up. I. Must. Not. Stop. Doing. Math.

10:56 It's cold. I can't believe I forgot how cold it is at night.

11:12 I'm afraid to write much - I'm switching to the first assignment. If I get that done, I can concentrate on the new one. Thunder by Boys Like Girls, piano cover.

11:30 Apparently a 4.5 isn't a decent gpa. Go figure.

11:38 Tired. Sluggish. Wants to quit no longer. Getting closer. Will be happy about this come morning. Used to be able to stay up easily into the am. Last year. What happened?

11:54 Foggy...it goes away when I go to type on the computer. Global warming good for trees; bad for ducks; http://news.yahoo.com/s/afp/20100203/sc_afp/usclimateenvironmentforestry

12:03 Officially thursday. Won't have 4 posts from the same day. River Flows in You by Yiruma.

12:09 Facebook group - I don't want to stop talking to you but I don't know what to say. I have that problem, sometimes. But I won't join the group. I think I may be able to fix it by trying to learn the art of conversation.

12:14 Giant sculpture http://finance.yahoo.com/banking-budgeting/article/108752/giacometti-sculpture-becomes-most-expensive-work-ever-to-sell-at-auction Don't worry, still working on math...slowly.

12:31 Done with assignment #2 [#1 was done, just need to finish #3] Oh my goodness. 9 more. Want to sleep???? Well, can't.

12:33 The piano seems too loud. Keep turning the volume down.

1:16 Ha. I did it. Done, done done. Thank you, blog. Thank you New Years Resolution. Thank you, grumpy bitterness that kept me going...

Now I'll try to catch some sleep.

9:27 I'm just going to keep this open...

Because ideas/thoughts keep popping into my head and it's annoying... I think I'm the kind of person who thinks that kittens are cute from a distance but freezes up when they're shoved in my face. Yeah. This post is just going to be the Australia for my stray thoughts.

9:30 That thought popped up when I was looking at a graph with two vectors and a bunch of phis. This isn't even supposed to be that hard. Why can't I do any of it???

9:45 Ha I figured out what I was missing. Bad news: I'm an idiot.

9:49 Person on fb...I'll call him Bud...is feeling depressed because he wants to be around people. I can relate. I'm not much of an advice giver though. I hope I made him feel better and not worse. Haven't seen him in a while, actually. [He sits at lunch] Then again, he never really fit in.

9:53 I want girl scout cookies. Not now though. After I finish math hw.

10:01 Making some progress. I feel like I'm bothering people on facebook. So I'm here, bothering my blog that no one reads. Except Gadi. But Gadi's here by choice.

10:12 Talked to Erin briefly. But she had to leave. Now I'm alone. With my math homework. Again.

10:20 Halfway gone- Lifehouse change from Zzzzz- the Cab. I'll always love Zzzzz. Halfway gone's just a novelty right now.

10:22 I get my highs from staying up late and writing and laughing at things in my head and then laughing some more because I'm laughing at things in my head that no one else can hear. I also have this strange rash on my left arm, where I usually wear my watch. So I'm thinking about switching my watch to my right arm so that I can try to get it to go away. It's been here for weeks. I thought it was getting better, but it just got redder the past two days. At first I was afraid I'd been bitten by a spider. There some scary pictures where an innocent looking red mark turns into a gaping black hole that's eaten into the skin.

10:27 I feel like I should stop. I feel like I'm not using my poor blog properly. I feel like a baby that's banging their precious heirlooms against the floor, and my mom needs to step in and be like, "oookay, sweetie. Nappie time." Except I can't nap because I need to finish my math homework.

In an effort to avoid facing my failure at Calculus III, [Yes, I'm insecure to the point that I'm doing that thing where I throw out the name of the course - oh so casually - in the hopes of impressing someone. That used to annoy me. It still does. I should delete it. But I want someone, somewhere, to tell me that I'm not a potato-head.] I read some of my earliest posts.

And boy, was I an angry kid...

That was just last year, almost exactly! Was I that angry? Did AP Chem destroy me that much??

Perhaps. It was stressful.

I think the fun I had was documented in the doodles Erin and I made, where we drew a stick figure and one person tried to draw things to kill it and one tried to draw things to save it. Or maybe that was just us being sadistic.

I see people doing chemistry now and I laugh.

My point - I'm much happier [and less sadistic] now. But my only homework is basically math and english and I don't even feel bothered when it's 9:02 pm and I haven't made a significant dent in math homework. That's really sad.

Although, I guess the tradeoff is impending college applications and SATs and ACTs and SAT II subject stuff. Whatever it is Collegeboard mandates. Hey. I've done one SAT. But apparently it's not good enough. -.-" At least Erin says it's good. But probably not enough to make up for my GPA. Gr....

Stupid AP Chem. Again.

*zen moment*

I really should do my math homework. Because I made a vow on my gmail status that "I AM NOT GOING TO SLEEP UNTIL I FINISH THIS STUPID MATH." And, you know, gmail statuses are law.

Can't I keep blogging? It's so much easier. And funner. Even though 1 person reads this.

No. No you may not.

*SIGH* You're mean. *sniff*

I hate you, orthogonal trajectories.

I hate vectors. I hate scalar projection and vector projection and scalars and space and planes and symmetric equations and intersections of planes in 3-D space.

They say ignorance breeds hate.

Well, it's true.

This is one of those moments when I wish I was omniscient. Do the gods like being gods? Who knows. But one thing they must not have is secrets. Unspoken words. Implications, feelings, things that don't make sense.

If only I had a penny for every time I felt like I was missing something. When someone gives you a look, and you are not sure if that look is how they normally look or if you did something wrong or said something that reminded them of something wrong.

And once you begin thinking and second guessing, it's all over.

As for justice

I know there is some. Sometimes. But other times, it's just not fair. Of course it is that way. But why is it that for little concerns things work out quite niftily, but on large-scale things everything goes awry? I'm being awfully vague here, I know.

But please, please. To the powers that be, for once let there be justice. I'm prepared to offer a good piece of my future fortune for this. Not my justice. Someone else's. Please?

I think I'm confusing my blog with that drawer in the kitchen where I put all the random items I find during the course of my life. More later.

Hey,

What is this life thing about, anyways?

Stress

Overall this year is really much better. There's no constant swamp that's gaining on me, threatening to suck me under. [Kind of like that mural at school...]

But this still isn't always easy. I can laugh at the homework load [sometimes], but the sometimes everything just overwhelms me. It's hard not to choke on the pressure, the grades, the meaninglessness of it all.

There's so much of humanity everywhere I look. So why is it so cold?

Censors...

on myself. I realized that the most difficult school projects that I come across are those that are more personal. 10 page research paper? Not much of a problem. Heartfelt paragraph discussing my goals for this year? Big, big problem.

I suppose this has always been happening, but I never really paid much attention to it. I would just compose a generic, superficial paragraph, take my points, and never look back. Perhaps it is because this year I am writing more - not just in my blog, but in other places: my "chronicles" [fancy name for a journal recounting the day's events in meticulous and rambling detail] loose leafy sheets where I rant, stories, stories, and stories.

I suppose I shall have to choose. Hide, which is always a safe [nothing wrong with safe] option. Or learn to speak out. [Which is not safe at all. But gratifying, because you know that you have an opinion, and everyone else knows so too. Which means there's proof and witness that you're not a turnip head. With no brains/substance/original thought.]

Eh? What was I doing again? Oh, right. Working on a website for Imaging class.

Instructions for "Artist Statement Page": Write a brief artist statement that explains your philosophy on your art. Discuss what kind of art you enjoy looking at, what art inspires you, and what kind of art you like to create. Discuss what elements of art and principles of design are the focus of your work. Possibly include what area of digital art you find to be your specialty

Even this is difficult. I know a lot of people will probably bs this. Should I? Because part of me wants to have fun with this, and hopefully dazzle everyone with my wit and thoughtful prose [yeah, right]. But another part of me knows that it would mean letting people know how I think [even if they don't care, I know, and I care, and I'm the one I have to live with.] and I'll probably get the same amount of points as the next bs-er.

Why do I like being so darn secretive? Maybe it's an attempt to create more layers to myself because everything else is a mess and not that deep.

Gr. Bottom line? I'm uncomfortable [and always was] with letting people "get to know me" and since I've gotten closer to writing, it's become more personal. And now I am hesitant to show my writing to anyone...
[Exceptions:
1) My English teacher, because it's a writing course and I want a good grade and you can't get those by faking.
2) Erin because she's in my English class and she's pretty much my closest friend.
3) Susan, because she's also a close friend and my writing buddy and being writing buddies would be difficult if one person refuses to show their writing...
4) My blog - here, of course - I can write whatever I feel like with little censoring except for the names, mostly because I feel pretty safe knowing that no one will read it {Except Gadi, my one reader, by default, the fourth person, who is a writer himself and has a blog where he writes...odd friendship, since he moved. Well, always an odd friendship, because he was somewhat scorned when he was here. Probably by me. But I don't remember. But then again, they say a bully never remembers his actions. So if I did, Gadi, I'm sorry.}

I think that's pretty much it. *shuffles awkwardly away*

Writing these blog posts is always very interesting, mostly because I never know what I'll end up writing about. And they make me feel better. They take an awful lot of time, though. Good thing I don't have much [any] homework tonight. Good thing I don't have much homework this year. Only had enough room for three aps. Well, four, but I didn't want to take an ap art.

I think it's time I stopped now.

Response to "Artist Statement Page" [Maybe.]: I believe that art takes many forms, transcends the field of logic and reason. I enjoy looking at digital art, because I spend ridiculous amounts of time on the computers, and sculptures and grafitti [on the few occasions when I make it outdoors]. I can never tell exactly what inspires me. My art is like dreams - I know they have come from my experiences in one way or another, but they are so conglomerated that they are indistinguishable from each other.

I just dropped an entire roll of toilet paper in the toilet.

Yes. It was brand new; never used. My hands slipped, and plunk. It fell. I stood there in shock for a moment, staring at the tree I had just killed.

At least it was before I used the toilet. Even so, there was no way I could use the toilet paper...that would defeat the purpose of toilet paper. I double shopping bagged - the roll was surprisingly heavy after taking about half of the toilet water with it.

No one was downstairs. I bagged the roll, tied it up, quietly set it in the trash, and answered nature's call.

Purchased 8 bundles of yarn yesterday, felt self-conscious; teens usually don't buy lots of yarn, or is it just me?

It rained. Today

But too late. Still, lucky three of us, escaped the worst of it

More later, if I remember. sleep time now

Favorite word[s]: staccato, twist.

I think it's safe to say

I'm on one of my "I wish I was younger and life was uncomplicated" phases. I like life now. It's just sometimes life squeezes me too hard and I get a headache.

I suppose it's all about choices now...

I like to think I make my own choices. I like to think that the thoughts in my head are mine, and only mine.

I like to think that I chose, and allowed things to happen as I thought they should. I chose to turn around. I chose to be curious. I chose to find out this "plan".

I also think I made a mistake. And I must fix it on tuesday.

But right now, I just want to curl up and sleep. I don't know why I feel this way. Other people would be thrilled. Or disgusted. Or at least be normal. I feel sad. And a little angry. As if someone had just slammed the door that I was facing.

You won't have any idea what I'm talking about.

Maybe I need more sleep.

Third time's the charm?

I'm going to write my process analysis essay. Second rewrite. First rewrite occured shortly after I posted my last post.

My mom wants me to stop wearing my brown windbreaker jacket every day to school. She says that it's getting old and ratty, and it's not fashionable. She says people will think that no one will buy me clothes. She does. Actually at some point she told me that she wouldn't buy me any more new clothes, because I never wear them. I just wear jeans, t-shirt, jacket. [It's very convenient. And easy to remember in the morning. Besides, I might as well be consistent.] Now she's complaining that I don't wear the clothes she buys. I said, "then stop buying me clothes." It seemed perfectly reasonable to me. If she doesn't buy me clothes, I don't feel as guilty when the cash register person rings up at Barnes and Nobles and the price is $125.79 [That's including the membership discount.]

Ha. Here I am, only a junior in high school, and I have an office, a laptop [that's connected to a color printer], an ipod, a camera, a cell phone, and a graphing calculator. There are lights and running water and flushing toilets [except in my room, but it'll get fixed...eventually] The pantry is full of food and the refrigerator ditto. Adults like to say that we take everything for granted, when 98% of the rest of the world doesn't have nearly as much. And I suppose we do. But is there really a way to be un-spoiled? To not take things for granted? Sheltered in an affluent neighborhood, surrounded by comforts, will I really care about the kid that's malnourished and infected with HIV in Africa? I hear, and I wish that I could help, but it's so inconcievable, so out in the distance, that it doesn't mean anything. It's not reality. Not to me.

I'm not trying to be cold and self absorbed. It's just so easy.

Why I miss freshman year...why I wake up so much later than I used to...grudges against romance...

I came later because no one was there. School starts at 7:45. I typically arrived at school between 7:10 and 7:15. There was a low wall that encircled a trio of weepy eucalyptus trees. The wall was too low to be a solid wind barrier; too high and too narrow to sit on comfortably. If I was lucky and prudent I brought a book and somone would arrive around 7:20. But that someone was usually Frodo* or Christopher*, who I never really knew or talked to, or Toby*, who I didn't really talk to back then, either. I really wasn't very talkative. I'm still not.

If I was unlucky someone would pop up five minutes before the bell, and by then I'd be stiff from standing and holding the book in my numb fingers (it was cold in the mornings, especially with the eucalyptus trees dribbling all over the place). It wasn't fun, but I was pretty faithful in arriving early, mostly from a habit carried over from middle school, or a perpetual fear of being caught late. And I always hoped that someone would come.

But that rarely happened. Mostly, the half an hour before school would go something like this:
1) I walk to the wall. Place backpack on the wall, dig inside for book. Consider wall. Should I try to sit on top?
2) Glance over my shoulder and realize that there are witnesses that could possibly catch sight of me struggling to balance while reading. A teacher sweeps past. Consider the line of ants. Sigh.
3) Drag backpack from top of the wall and allow it to fall four feet to land on the pavement. Settle down next to backpack, which I drape over my right knee as a sort of blanket. Wince slightly as buttocks begin to feel cold.
4) Open book and try to concentrate on interesting plot (if I brought a book I liked) or obscure iambic pentameter (if book is assigned by school). Supress a shiver. Wish group had agreed on meeting in the library. Or any place indoors.
5) Look up every few seconds as peoples' feet cross line of vision. Teacher. Counselor. Senior. Random administrator. Read a few lines of text.
6) "Aren't you cold?" Look up. A teacher (at least that is assumption) is looking down at you. Shrug nonchalantly, answer "no..." even though I am involuntarily spasming under my sweathshirt. Man shrugs and continues walking towards Administration building. Has no time for crazy freshmen.
7) Tries not to shudder as a dollop of dew drops onto my neck. Wait miserably for someone to arrive.
8) It's Christopher. Manage an awkward "hello." No sure to keep reading or not. Oh. Holden* At least I can read and be ignored.
9) Someone that I can hold a conversation with arrives. Tries to stand without falling over. Puts away book. Bell rings two minutes later.

That was how my mornings went most of freshman year, and a month or so into the sophmore one. Then that changed, too.

Day One: Have more confidence now. Stands next to wall, reading. Checks watch. Ten minutes to bell. Shrugs. Maybe they're running late. Reads. Checks watch. Five minutes to bell. Scans campus. Nothing. Reads. Two minutes to bell. Taps watch. Can't be right. Watches second hand tick past the one minute mark. Bell rings. Off to class, somewhat perplexed.

They are there at lunch. Toby* and Samantha* spend a lot of time together. Not much of my concern, I suppose. But lunch is awkward. People watch from the corners of their eyes. Caleb* watches. Tim* watches. Erin* watches.

Day Two: Apprehensive. Comes at 7:20. Wait at the wall. Bell rings. Wonders if they came and I missed them.

They no longer come to the wall. Not Toby*, not Samantha*, not Erin*. I learn that they gather inside the front building, now.

Day Three: I "run late." Get there at 7:30. Arrive at English classroom early. Wait outside. Two minutes later a friend comes along. We talk. It's fun. The bell rings.

Day Four: It's Spanish, so I get there at 7:35. As I walk across the quad (much more crowded than I'm used to) I glance at the wall. The adults file past occasionally. The eucalyptus trees drip wetly onto nothing. The wall is dead.

Day Five: I change my route. I walk up the stairs. Turn right, not left. I walk up more steps. To the building. It's 7:25; I couldn't wake up as early as I used to anymore. There's Toby*. There's Samantha*. There's Erin*. I walk up to them. I tell Erin I need help with my chem hw. I figure it's just today. I don't like this place. I don't like the warmth; too hot in my sweatshirt. I figure I'll go straight to English. And come late on Spanish days. I compare answers. The bell rings.

---Weekend---

I don't know why I wrote this. I just couldn't get it out of my head. Toby* and Samantha* aren't dating anymore. But we're still there. And I go there every day. I've gotten used to it.

I do miss the old days. But old days fade to grey as new ones shove forward. I'm probably destroying any meager bit of soberness I had above. I don't care. I guess I don't really appreciate change, or growing up, or things of that nature. Gotta grow up. But Erin* and Nathan* and Toby* and Bernice* and Samantha* and Roger* and Channel* and Neal*...

Maybe it's fun. Maybe it's nice. But there's responsibility and communication and effort and time.

I don't know when I last changed my two-week contact lenses.

I'd rather read. I'd rather write. I'd rather blog. Heck, I'd rather be frozen and dripped on by a eucalyptus tree.

*Names obviously altered. I have never met a "Frodo" in real life. It would be awesome, though.

I just realized that there is a random fish widget at the bottom of the page. Did I put that there?

Robotic laughter is not at all funny.

Humans are humans. I am a human. Other humans are like me. We understand each other, more or less. I know they have flaws. They have moments they want to relive or moments they wish never happened. Looking at a stranger, at least I know they have that much. Hopefully.

But a robot?

That's scary.

A human that's convinced that he's not human?

Scarier.

We are family. That looks idiotic on the screen. But I believe it's true. Human spirit, or whatever it is. We're like little atoms. Or neutrons, protons, electrons. Quarks? Anyways, we make up something bigger, and even if there seems to be an infinite space stretching between one particle and the next, at a larger scale it's just one, flawless entity.

~ I was feeling big -picture - y. Because I was too lazy to do my history project during break, and thus left off most of it until the night before, got three hours of sleep, dozed off during the math lecture on "Infinite Limits and Limits at Infinity" and now I'm completely lost.

I had a good idea for a blog post earlier. At least I think I did. I don't think it would have been as good on screen as in my head, though.

It's friday.

I suppose I shall feel all empty inside during the weekend. And when it's over I shall be sad.

That's not a good attitude.

Well, I'm tired.

That's no excuse for a lapse in

What?

...

Pandora isn't playing the song I want to hear. I don't know the name. I just heard it once when I was organizing papers.

...

I feel like pacing. Maybe it's the music. Maybe it's the beat of the t.v. in the other room. My sentences are boring. I want them to flow, to link hands with one another and glide through the story. They kind of skip-shuffle and crouch awkwardly on the page.

...

Blah.

I might as well make it an even 30 posts.

Lost and insecure...
You found me...
You found me...
Lying on the floor...
Surrounded, surrounded...

I can't think of much. I'm quoting song lyrics as if this were my facebook status. But it's not, because I don't want some of my "friends" to know what I'm feeling. It's not that I don't like them. It's just that they requested and I didn't want to reject it, even though we never speak in real life.

Anyways, that's not what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to talk about food with long shelf lives. See, food like that may not be appealing when compared with chocolate cake or ice cream, but they also don't spoil when you take them out of the refrigerator. They can sit on the shelf for years, patiently waiting for someone to notice them. And they usually don't take up too much space. Especially dehydrated fruit. I'm sure there was a grammar mistake somewhere.

I decided that The Fray is my choice of music when I feel alone. I guess I just like his voice. Especially in You Found Me.

This blogging thing is kinda fun, too. Since nobody reads it, it's like talking to my stuffed animals, or speaking to an empty room. And I'm not pausing every few seconds to make sure that there is no one listening. Or if my family isn't home, that there isn't some creeper that's lurking behind the door.

I don't think my writing is getting any better, though. And I don't think I'm developing much of a voice. I wish I could remember more big words. I have to look up words at least 5 times before they become vaguely familiar enough to constantly stick to my brain. Like esoteric. First I saw someone use that word in a facebook comment, and I looked it up. Then I forgot about it. Later, I remembered that there was this word that meant exclusive or something secret to a group or something like that, and I scoured the web with possible synonyms for this word until I found it. And forgot it again. Then I looked it up a few more times when I experienced that panicky feeling that meant I'd forgotten it again. But now I know: esoteric=intended or understood by only a particular group. According to the first definition on Yahoo! dictionaries.

My happiness depends on the amount of time that my friends take to eat dinner.

Well, sorta. That's all.

I couldn't wait to get home, back to my computer. I was composing this in my head in the car. Definetely not my best, but maybe I'll edit this later.

So you know when you’re doing something that you’ve done for a long time, something that seems routine, like doing homework or playing piano, and then you realize that next to everyone else, you just epically fail? Yeah. That’s me.

I out, and I was irritable and stressed, because break is almost over and so was the deadline for my homework. Then I looked up and saw the sky. It was…like baby’s skin, except the color of pink cotton candy that’s been in the sun too long. Except the baby’s skin was scarred and pitted, and the scars shimmered golden like twisted tissue.

So now I’m a horrible person because I envisioned a scarred, pink baby in the sky. But if you think about it figuratively, emotionlessly, then you can see that it kinda makes sense. This is a time of rebirth, a new beginning, according to a lot of people. Thus the baby. Maybe we carry the marks of our “past lives,” but the wounds have long since been healed. Maybe not skillfully, maybe not without the passage of time, or only because time has piled on so much that it is forced to heal, but it is healed. The scars will be forever with us. They will mark our skin and perhaps twinge before a rainstorm. But for now, we are babies, reborn, trusting, innocent. Who would hurt a baby?

So that’s it, then. I just wanted to tell you about the sunset. Maybe the same image is painted on the sky every day. But maybe you know, I rarely stray from the corner that is my office, and even more rarely leave my house. So for me, at least, the idea of the sun setting and the sky turning violet and pink and golden is a mind boggling, beautiful thing. Same to a baby. Happy New Year.

1-4 update:

Dad took a picture!