Misunderstanding?

At times I must admit that the games in life (because that is all life is composed of) really exhaust me.

Today after school, I had detention with Profesora. It was alright despite the fact that her room was ridiculously hot. I got home a few minutes after five, and took a nap since I was going out with Diane, late tonight.

Once I awoke from my shower Diane was over, and Charles and his faggot-ass "friend" were over. Diane told me that she said I had detention--she has to be the stupidest friend I have. Fucking A. Then she said that Charles opened his fat mouth (for something other than food for a change) to say, "He got caught smoking on the stage." Apparently Aneta believed him. She's pissed about that.

Aneta told me Charles is the biggest liar she's ever met. If she's sticking by that statement, I think Aneta is the most naive, foolish, desperate woman I've ever met.

The other day I was informed that someone posted an ad on Craigslist for me. And undeniably, someone who say me at work, had indeed wanted to meet me. He's 48. Right there he was untouchable territory. But apparently I'm an idiot and I can't handle anything myself. I think Aneta thinks I was going to give it a go. Sorry, I don't want to end up with 4 failed marriages, and several affairs in between.

Aneta was mad at Charles the other day, but after I got out of the shower they were dancing. Are you serious. I know why Kind Arthur doesn't understand them and got out of dodge. Charles said he could take care of Aneta all on his own, have fun with that burger boy.

I'm still having a bit of a personal struggle still. I feel ugly and unwanted 99.9% of the time. I'm just a try hard with over plucked eyebrows, too much makeup, and too much gel in his hair. I'm just waiting for a revolution.

Not Worth Europe

Today was an eventful day to say the least.

This evening, was King Arthur's Uncle's funeral. At the funeral Aneta seemed to be segregated... and he stayed with his family and left her alone all night. His family glared at her all night. To make a long story short she told him off. She then proceeded to drive home without him. His brother had to bring him to the house, and tonight he is spending the night at mommy's.

This evening after everyone left, Diane, Aneta, and I sat to watch The Ugly Truth, to get her mind off things.

During the movie Charles called yelling at me to get my name out of his mouth. Lately he's been spending all of his free time with his "straight" (meaning closeted) friend. Which I don't care about, I just don't understand why he won't tell anyone they're having an affair, or that he wants one at least. He even jumped up and down one night when he called--COME ON! He told me he heard everything Diane and I were "saying," which I actually didn't say anything. I wanted to talk to Diane about them so bad, BUT I knew she'd open her big mouth so I didn't say anything. And it's not like I could tell many other people because most of the people who know aren't anyone I'd want to chat about it with.

Then he told me he wasn't going to bring me to work anymore. And he said "He shouldn't have gone to Europe then!" while on the phone with Aneta. After he got off the phone, Aneta explained things. She told me that when she told me she'd let me go to Europe, that I had to choose between that and a car. SHE NEVER SAID THAT! She continued to say that the money she acquired was originally for a car, and she never said that. I am so nice when people give me stuff, if she told me it was intended for a car, then that's what I would have asked for.

And I mean this with every bit of my heart: if that had been the case, I would have gotten that car and signed a contract that I couldn't leave the country until I turned 50. I would give up everything from that perfect trip for a car. I have never regretted something as beautiful as the French countryside, The Italian Alps, Big Ben, even my new friends and Sebastien. I'd repeat the 11th grade if it meant I could change my decision.

I don't think I can ever look back on that trip the same way again. I never seem to make the right decisions despite how much of I pushover I am to my family. I don't even know how to take off this bulky invincible exterior and let someone in and be a real human being. I'm so tired of trying to be me... and failing every time.

National Honor Society

Today at my High School it was the day of the National Honor Society inductions. This means a ton on smart people talking about themselves and how great they are, and recognizing themselves as being a member of an academic hierarchy.

The four qualities are in their logo as CSLS, standing for character, scholarship, leadership, and service.

The first quality CHARACTER deals with personality mostly, but integrity (BARF) also. Most of the students up there have none. I do know for a fact that one of the boys being inducted even let someone give them head in their car in exchange for a ride. Francois was inducted too. His best quality is that he beats off in class. Whatever, I could think of a million people that have more character, GOOD CHARACTER, that are more worthy of being a member.

The next quality, SCHOLARSHIP tell us that the student has maintained a ridiculous GPA since the beginning of ninth grade. This also tells us that they've dedicated too much time and effort into good grades, and have diminished their social life. I get decent grades, and I'm definitely not going anywhere. Who is to say that just because someones GPA was off one quarter that they have less character, leadership, and service than another person?

The third quality, LEADERSHIP is one that I have the biggest problem with. The student that gave the speech on it has the least leadership in the school that I could possible fathom. She's just a cross-eyed, wall flower who doesn't answer questions voluntarily in the class room, and spends all of her spare time at church when she isn't at K-mart, working. I must admit though, the new inductees did posses this quality strongly.

Lastly, we have the quality of SERVICE. Don't you just love giving up insane amounts of your free time being nice and giving back to your community? I DON'T. These kids do so much to help out and it's great and all, but it's like geeze, get a fucking life. If everyone gave up some time every now and again we'd have plenty of people to help out, who cares if some people want to do it all. It's their choice. One of the people inducted is volunteering 40 hours a week over the summer and she's proud of it. I don't even want to give up 40 hours a week and get paid for it.

Most of the kids were dressed to a tee. But as Marilyn spoke one one girl's outfit, "She looks like she has a burlap sack wrapped around her." Trust me, she wasn't the only one who looked a fool. This cult is a joke in my eyes, but I'm proud of Marilyn for getting in since she meets the criteria in a healthy way. It'll look great on her college resume.

You don't need NHS to be famous, so I'm lucky.

The Texan

It was late Sunday night, and I had been home for several hours before my phone rang. The phone caught me completely off guard, and I didn't even have time to have the usual "I hope this is something interesting," thought. I looked at the phone, and it was Sonian--a reoccurring lover.

I met Sonian in 2008, when I still used MySpace. We had completely innocent interactions when we first began talking. But as time progressed, our conversations did too. I noticed eventually, that every conversation become more stimulating. I could feel my emotions being attached to him. Every time he texted or called my heart would beat faster each time. But come summer's end, our two-month foundation had dissipated into school books and real life.

As I grew socially in school, I wilted socially on the Internet. And I began to drop friends accidentally, and it was a downward spiral from there. But every now and again I would call Sonian and see how he was, or he would randomly pick up the phone and call me. Even though I knew it was real, I was skeptical.

It was near Christmas when I first told him I loved him. We would talk for hours and hours. He and I would discuss our futures together. We would talk about how perfect our love would be with perfect jobs, living in New York City, and never being sad or upset another day or either of our lives. I found every word that left his lips intriguing. I thought everything he said was ridiculously, overwhelmingly, adorable and sincere.

When he got a hold of me a few nights ago, he started with the charm immediately. He told me he had something to tell me, and of course I told him I was all ears, and that I was ready when he was. And he replied, "No, Guess!" I knew he had something cute to say. But I couldn't help but think he wanted to call for phone sex. But I had remembered that he told me he planned to go to New York City after graduation (this year). So I used that as my guess.

Conveniently I was right. He told me he was going to be coming for a week sometime after June 5th, but before the end of June. Less than a month. We spoke for another hour and the forever burning embers caught one small tree on fire, to ignite a forest fire that put any fire in California to shame.

It was more beautiful than ever to be able to say I Love You to him again. This reoccurring romance might have a chance to try to be more than a virtual forest fire. The only reason it's note-worthy is because we didn't break contact. This love has taken it's toll...

P-O'd

This morning I woke up to a feeling on my face. If I remember correctly, I felt something crawling on my cheek, and I swatted at my own face several times. Then I felt it on my finger, and then I felt an extremely painful sting, or bite of some sort. At this point I'm flailing my arms, and now nothing is on my hands. I'm sitting up in my bed, and I can hear a bee buzzing. I shake out my sheets and run upstairs to attend to my finger. My left middle finger has doubled in size. I killed that mother fucking bumble bee that bit me. That's what you get for waking me up at 5:50AM.

Then I wore a t-shirt today because nothing fucking looks good on anymore. Not to mention my make up looks like fucking shit.

Then at school, no one seemed to be in a good mood. I got fucking yelled at in Art today for doing homework when people use his class as a study hall all the time. AND I'm ahead of EVERYONE on the current project. I was scrambling to get work done during classes all day, even during my lunch.

Later in the day, Mr. McWhite had to brag to the whole class how Stephanie was the only one who received a passing grade on the quiz from the day before. Too bad the diabetic cunt lied to him before class, and told him she had to go to the nurse to check her blood sugar, when she really wanted extra time to study for today's quiz. That bitch's mom is a lunch lady and her dad is a mechanic, she's not going anywhere in life. Go into a diabetic coma plz?

Mr. McWhite, you are the most obnoxious, oblivious, instigator I've ever met in my whole entire life. Go to hell.

Then at work, this arrogant prick, Bovan, did NO work. Another associate and I ended up doing most of his run backs, and helping him fold down his sections of the store. Do your damn job, and don't you dare for one second condescend to me about not getting GAP Cards. I may not get GAP Cards, but at least I can manage my time and prioritize how I'm asked, you inefficient fuck. The douche bag doesn't even know that everyone knows that he's hooking with Stacy, the second assistant manager. The jewelery store bitch told everyone she saw you two kissing in the parking lot--real classy!

My finger is almost completely back to normal not, And I'm fucking scared to sleep in my own bed because of damn bumble bees. There better be something good on TV, because I will kill myself if there isn't.

More Than A Hobby

Over the past several months I've been thinking more and more about college and what I really want to do with my life. At this point I have my eyes set on one school, LIM College. It's a smaller school located in the Upper East Side of Manhattan. LIM is the only school that is 100% fashion related. Not one of their majors is unrelated to fashion. Last night at work I realized that a career in fashion isn't a question anymore, it's definite.

When I was at work, I was stationed in the adults section to fold all night and greet, as well as assist customers. One customer needed my assistance with denim, one of my favorite items to help people shop for due to it's price tag along with how picky people are with it. She was, tan, and thin, and looked like she was in her mid 40s.

I helped her on the floor, and she was impressed. I asked Stacy to keep her eye on her in the fitting room, because I knew she was the kind of person who would want a second opinion. Then Hugh came and said, "I'll watch Adults if you want to go help her personally," despite his normally cold, manager ways. I was so excited to basically be some one's personal shopper, and tell them if they look like shit or not.

I went back, and the woman had to have had tried on 15 pairs of jeans in her venture. She fell in love with the boot cut, which she only tired on because I encouraged it. She had just lost 25lbs she told me, and it felt great to make someone feel great about their image anyways, let alone that she has a new found confidence in her image.

As Stacy finished with her at the cash wrap, Stacy told me over the walkie that she was really impressed with me, and was glad I was there to help, and that made me feel great. Before I had time to think, the customer, was leaving the store, I said to her, "Have a good one."

She thanked me profusely and told me, "You're in the right place, you really know what you're talking about."

In that instant I really realized that style isn't just something I obsess about, and it's not something I'm infatuated with. It's embedded in my brain, it's encoded in my genetics. I couldn't be more excited to apply to colleges in the fall. For the first time in my life, I can really see what I want for my future without any questions asked.

Artificial

The Nark is on full alert today during US History. She thinks I'm behaving in the computer lab doing as I'm supposed to. I'm just trying to prove her oblivion despite the fact the fact that she thinks she's like God in that she's all knowing.

She's standing and pacing around the room like she's so innocent, but she's not. I've seen and experienced her true colors. I know how she talks to her husband, and treats him like a second-class citizen. Marilyn has filled me in, and knowing how she was in Europe DOES NOT help her cause.

I know just how to get under her skin, so I have no problem deflecting her condescending attitude. She likes to be in power. I take her out of power to see her vulnerable because I know that is exactly what she doesn't want to be.

In school, I know I act similar to how Narcotics Police act. But I have different intent. I act how I do because it's who I am, but she does it for the reputation of for some kind of notoriety. She's a woman of God, and she follows the church--so you know there has to be a contradiction near by. Haha.

I have never needed a cigarette so bad in my life. School fucking stresses me out. I don't even have a pack right now, otherwise I'd "Go to the bathroom," and have a cigarette on the stage.