"Fast food is a drug. The only difference between it and conventional toxins is that fries smell good."

"Live like there's no tomorrow...and there won't be one."

     Yesterday I had the first in-class essay in Language Arts. To keep it from fading and smudging in the portfolio, we had to use ink to write the whole thing, so I used my red pen. In the end I didn't get to finish, and plus we weren't supposed to use red pens at all.

     Then it was third period. I'd forgotten that there was a map quiz, and we all know that tope-of-my-head goegraphy is my weakest subject. Luckily I'd already learned Latin America two times, so it wasn't so bad.

     Nutrition break consists of me trying to go to the bathroom. By the time I reach my locker, the bell's rung. Sometimes I don't even make it to the locker, and then I go around for two periods with a bulky backpack that doesn't even have the right stuff in it (thankfully my fifth period is P. E.).

     Fourth period: Journalism. The assignment had been the same for two days: interview the assigned classmate and right a personality review. I walked in and dug around in my backpack and then remembered that I'd left my journalism notebook in my locker. Of course. *slaps forehead. I hadn't even finished it, anyways. The teacher started to go around choosing random people to recite their reports, generally in partners, and about halfway through the period she reached me. I started to recite the little "speech" I'd planned five seconds beforehand.

     "Well, I--"

     And then the fire alarm rang. O _____ O We all just sat there in apparent shock, nobody really feeling like actually reacting to it, and it turned out to be a false alarm anyways. Eventually everyone settled down again and we continued.

     "...Left it in my locker."

     Yeah. I'm just blessed like that.

     More importantly, though, I actually will need luck in the next week, because I lost my math textbook. One of my new friends helped me find an online version, but I still need to either get it back or pay for it. It's not anywhere, but the library manager suggested waiting for a week in case somebody found it and decided to hold on to it before turn it in. So...

     How have you guys' high school lives been? :)

     I just killed an ant. I tore off the corner of a piece of paper and smashed it on top, rubbing with my fingernail. When i lifted the paper, it was mutilated and squirming. It took me one more hit to kill it (via beheading) and three more tries to pick everything up. My hand was shaking. Am I weird? TT o TT

     I had the weirdest dream Tuesday night. The things in it, I don't really remember clearly, the faces are really hazy if I saw them at all, but I just get that feeling, that it's whoever whatever, you know? So anyways.

     Mom and I were in a movie theater main hall, trying to decide which movie to watch, and there were trailers playing from three sides of the giant weirdly-shaped room, and the ceiling, big movie screen-size trailers. I don't know there the fourth side went. Maybe the door. Anyways, an Inception trailer started to play, and my brain just focused on that and cut out all background, so for a second this weird scene of rock-climbing in a maze was my dream. And then I came back, and Haiti appeared on a motorcycle, FuriKuri outfit and all, and apparently wanted to see Inception. So she drove up and flew to the ceiling (which had a maze and a weird opening-thing and Doctor Who's time machine) like she was being sucked; which apparently she was; and went spinning up and down, always landing (on the ceiling, of course) short of the door. For whatever reason my only concern was that she might spin too much or not enough and "land" on her head. So she came back, and with an apparently incredible feat of strength, pulled herself out of this suction-force and flipped smoothly to the floor, not even touching the wall.

     Then came another trailer, the one on the wall right in front of us, about these two ginormously fat caterpillars--both guys, one bigger, fatter, more idiotic, and apparently the older brother of the other--coddled by a human owner, and then (I think) going on an adventure. The older brother resembles the caterpillar in A Bug's Life. The little one looked like a ladybug.

     And then, for the first time in my life, I felt relieved when I heard my alarm clock.

     ...

     Yeah.

     This morning Mom and I took a walk, and when we were going up the steps back home, Mom walked headfirst straight into a giant spiderweb. I could hear the web stretching and snapping. She gave an exclamation of horror and proceeded to try to get the web off her hair; and when she turned I saw a GIANT spider fumbling around on the back of her head.

     Am I a 911 firefighter trained to deal with extremely nerve-wracking situations? No.

     While screaming "Don't move, don't move," which probably would have had the opposite effect than intended on anyone else, I eventually poked the spider off with a stick. Mom's poofy hair saved us all a great deal. I ran into the house before I could see if she killed it or not.

     I got to stand within two feet of two rock stars the other day. And guess where?

     Barnes & Nobles.

     Just like usual, I strode past the two street lights and turned the corner to the Promenade, walking briskly towards the book shop (which was officially declared bankrupt yesterday, I think) because of the blistering sun. California's sizzling reputation won't be rebuked anytime soon, even with the wacky weather, global warming, and winter coming round the bend.

     Anyways. There are several--agh vocab fail, like those big screens standing by the side of the walkways with ads on them, and behind one of these, on the side facing me, was a group of high schoolers. (Even now I can't believe I'm one of them.) The two girls craned their necks around it, looking at the entrance of Barnes & Nobles a mural away (hah! take that! an LP reference! XD). Then they spoke to one of the guys, apparently exasperated at having to do whatever they were doing, but giggling nonetheless. And since I still have to do HOMEWORK i'll go now.

     Character sketches.

     Are.

     So.

     Hard.

     I love them, but I can only think of four types of characters my brain can make up: Aimenh, Kuchiha, Kake, and Jay. Well then there's Shatani (you haven't met her yet) and Vlad (whose character i still haven't struck) and Runo (who was easy cuz he never talks). But then I start struggling. It's easiest to just make a random combo of all those guys, but you can't go so in-depth with minor characters. And then there's character designs, and the problem of making everyone recognizable, and fresh perspectives with each pov, and aaaggghhh--

     By the way I actually managed to finish my in-class essay. :D I was soooooooooooo happy!!! <3

     *cough. Anyways. As an example of a character sketch, I'll make a caricature (sp?) of my new friend in WHS.

     CG is short and lean, has long black hair and round glasses, and speaks in a clipped, slightly squeaky voice. Her fondness of "cute" things leans to the obsessive side. For example, she has more stuffed animals than I can count. She takes pictures of some of them on her rotund cell phone and shows me, along with Kirby cartoons and Azumanga Daio (sp?) clips. If it's cold enough to avoid suspicion, she wears to school knit animal-beenies (i think that's what it's called, like those sagging wool hats with decorations of them. on black friday all four of us--meaning mom, dad, haiti and me--trooped to the mall, and i found an owl-beenie. We didn't get it. But i digress) that change every time, because she occasionally borrows them from her family members. Once she even wore a Kon felt beenie that looked more like a sun crown than a character from the manga Bleach. For three days straight she brought Mamegoma, Mamagoma, and Minigoma to school and played with them during lunch. Personally I think that the poor mutilated seals would be better off sticking in their anime. (Mamegoma is a pure white seal with a spherical center, four small stubs for a tail and fins, and an--I admit--adorable face. How they manage to swim I have no clue.) She's supposed to donate a dozen toys every year, but even with the subtraction she already has more than she had last year, and she has yet to make the trip to Japan. I thought she was always studious--before a test she studies using her Japanese version of an iPad (she also has an iTouch). But today she was frantically doing her math homework fifteen minutes before math class started (we both have Mr. Scout 6th period, right after lunch). I didn't believe it until she personally told me she was a practiced procrastinator.

     *pant, pant. Mom's home. Gotta run.

     My head feels like wood today. It's been feeling like wood for a while, but I'm really feeling it now cuz I finished my temporary obsession with Hanna Is Not a Boy's Name and I've finally got the time to do whatever I want and I can't cuz my brain won't let me. It really sucks, I'm telling ya, especially since finals've started and I went to see an orthodontist yesterday and he said that my jaw problem could potentially have very bad long term consequences, but there's few doctors who have experience at fixing it. Weird, though, isn't it? Apparently this jaw problem isn't all that uncommon among teenage girls, and the cure sounds simple enough to me, yet there's so few who can execute it properly. Grrr.

     Plus I learned how bad my slouch is. My muscles're straining to compensate for my too-forward head and the doctor said I'll probably never have perfect posture or something like that--I probably heard wrong. Maybe not, but I don't want to go around blaming that doctor for stuff. He was nice.

     I had a nightmare last night. A real nightmare, that I remember, my first in what must've been years. It started with me wandering around somewhere, I don't remember why, but it bore a very slight resemblance to the parking lot in front of Costco viewed from high up, guess I was on a hill. And I think I was waiting for Mom to pick me up, and I got bored, and for whatever reason I went to check the bus out. It felt kinda like I was reading the new, or watching the tv--I just somehow knew that lots of bus crashes were happening, and as I stood in front of the parked bus I saw a body wrapped up on a stretcher being pulled away by 911 pplz. Then I went into the bus--dream logic says this makes sense. As we were chugging along, I glanced at the handle on the door, the kind that looks like a bar and you push to open the door.

     There was a severed hand clamped in between. There was no blood. But I knew that it belonged to one of the people that had crashed.

     I vaguely remember panicking and moving to the other end of the bus, where I found the other hand. But my brain was in the process of flipping scenes. Then I was watching a murder movie. There was this guy who the narrator said "for no apparent reason" killed some other guy he knew. And it showed the murderer playing cards or whatever with a bunch of other dudes, and you can tell he's not too bad, nor is he crazy, just really easy to tic off. One of the dudes was saying annoying stuff. You can tell he doesn't really mean to annoy, but this soon-to-be murderer is just getting more and more riled up. And then I know that this dude's going to be killed. And then I realize that he's my math teacher (who totally rocks but I admit I can see the connection). The dream-scene flips to the murderer sitting at a desk, perhaps perhaps perhaps doing homework (which would suddenly make my dream more of a comedy than a horror), and my math teacher leaning over his shoulder telling him what to do, which you can tell from his face totally flips him out. Then my teacher walks out of the room saying that he'll come back when the murderer's finished, and he closes the door behind him. The door's got weird symbols drawn white against a blackboard background, the part that should be a window. As the door closes I start thinking, you idiot, now he's going to kill you. I can see both sides now, like in a proper movie. My teacher for whatever dreamy reason is still just outside the door, and the murderer slips a knife out from his shoe or something. Then he stands up and walks towards the door. I suddenly realize (not really, like, dream-in-my-head realize) that my teacher would be able to hear me, so I scream, "No, he's going to kill you!" But by then it's too late, the door slams open and my teacher gets a dagger thrown smack dab in the middle of his forehead.

     There is no blood.

     And then he blacks out; when he regains consciousness (yeah he's still alive, i was surprised too) the murderer has brought him into his room and tied him to a chair. He's taking grotesque-looking weapons out from cabinets and strewing them on the floor, as if choosing which ones to torture my poor teacher with. And I see the movie poster, which is my poor teacher's head cut off just above the chin with these exact same weapons arranged all around it.

     There is blood.

     The scene flips back to the dark orange lighting and the murderer choosing weapons, and I remember that I am technically watching a movie and beg myself to look away, and then I manage to look away--and I'm awake. So technically it wasn't a nightmare, because the really scary stuff hasn't happened yet. I stare at the ceiling for a while, cry a bit (after all not including the fact that it's my math teacher, things like this have probably happened to those select few unfortunates), then go to the bathroom. For once I'm not afraid of the dark.

     Odd, that.

     ...

     Now that was intense, wasn't it?

     It swooped down and was on me before I could react.

     I was walking like normal to B & N, right. Along the sidewalk there's a bunch of trees, and year round birds are constantly flitting and hopping around the cafe tables in the hopes of snatching an easy snack. I passed under a tree, distracted as usual.

     I heard a rustle in the tree, then a flapping. Something that felt like a peculiarly heavy leaf or bundle of twigs landed on my head, fluttered, then quickly sprang away. I could have sworn I felt claws on my hair and a dull pecking, accompanied by a rough battering. None of it hurt much, and absent-mindedly I glanced up to see how a tree branch had managed to dig itself into my head.

     I stared at empty sky.

     I stopped in my tracks, and my brain started dancing in circles. What? I spun around, and saw a black bird the size of my outstretched hand perched on a billboard [i believe that's what they're called], staring at me. It had just landed.

     It cocked its head and challenged me with its beady black eyes. I stared back in disbelief. I scratched my head, and after a long while continued on my way.

     My head is tough, it seems.

     ...Mom caught me doing Journalism homework at 9:45 instead of playing my instruments. She said I had no discipline.

     ...Is this a bad thing?

     I've been having this dream, or half-dream if you will, where first i see a fat woman and then a skinny woman. It must have started years ago, and I think I imagined it on purpose at first. It kind of scared me though, because the fat woman turned into a fat baby with smooth, rosy skin, and the skinny woman turned into a whithered, brown, mummy-like woman. So I tried not to think of it.

     But whenever I've been up too long, and close my eyes to sleep, the two images pop up again. The fatness of the first and the emaciation of the second grew more and more exacerbated over the years. Just as I forget them, they come back, stranger and scarier than ever, to the point that I can almost feel them. And last night, the first was so fat and enormous it filled all the corners and seemed to press against the invisible box of my imagination--I thought I could feel the pressure inside my head--and the second was so dry and alien it looked like the slightest breath would send it flying. I'm afraid that the next time I have this...this vision, the first will explode and the second will disappear.

     This is no joke. It's not even a metaphor. I am seriously freaked out that that will be the night my imagination kills itself.

     Well *cough* anywho, I am BACK FROM CHINA :dances in circles: yay~!!! Anyone up for a party? I've been thinking of writing a song for the lot of us, but I don't know if Rayray wants to sing. Do you, Rayray? (I can't sing, so I'll just play the piano.)

     I'd had six hours of sleep the previous night, and I was running low on gas. By myself with a pile of books and a fresh-opened Caprison in front of me, I sat in the shade and waited for solitude so I could do my homework in peace. Intermittently, one or two people would pass by, and I would start fiddling with my phone. And then an Asian guy with his friend walked by.

     "Oh. By the way. Your piano's amazing," he said, interrupting his own conversation.

     I looked up.

     "...Do I know you?"

     "Well, yeah, duh, I saw you play piano," he called over his shoulder, and kept talking to his friend. "Like I'd just randomly say that to someone I didn't know."

     Okay. Rant time. I feel reeeeeaaaaally bad about this TT 0 TT. I mean, dude, he was just being nice! But I seriously didn't recognize him, not even a flicker of recognition. You know, according to the Rorshasch test things or whatever those weird ink blots are called, I'm slightly paranoid. I see a fox with four eyes where I should see a butterfly. I can't help it, can't keep that hostile edge out of my voice and face when a stranger talks to me out of the blue. Especially when they compliment me. For some reason compliments just make things worse. It's like they're trying to get on top of me or something, I don't know how to react.

     So it's like that. I kinda want to seek him out and apologize, but then that'd just be even more awkward. And I don't even know his name, or know someone who might know his name. Guess he was at the Civic Arts Plaza thing? Well, I guess it's not that important. But what if someone tries to socialize with me one day when socializing's important, and I do the same thing and hurt his/her feelings?

     ...Yeah, I realize that I tend to blow these sort of things out of proportion. Somehow it feels like if I make the wrong choice I'll be stuck with it for life.

     I realized in AP Euro today how fittingly I had named one of my LP characters. He hasn't shown up yet, so I won't tell you exactly why; but I will tell you that I will probably read Paradise Lost now, and that LP may turn out to be something actually cool, rather than just a super long and complicated spazz story.

     So. Rant time. My AP Euro teacher is one of the all time greatest teachers I have ever had. Never have I had a teacher whom I can honestly call "inspiring" before; but that is exactly what Mr. Freedman (name altered slightly) is. Epic, funny, mafia, and inspiring. I could go on and on about why every student who's had him says so, but that is not the point of today's rambling. Today, I am sharing the insight on philosophy I gained in history class.

     Tenth grade is when schools start to take us seriously. They finally, finally have realized that we have long ago graduated from silly questions like "What was the main character's name?" or "What did Sydney Carton do?" or even "What did the golden thread represent?" Now, at long last, they have stopped insulting our intelligence and instead ask us "What did Charles Dickens intend by making Sydney Carton happy to die? Why is the purest protagonist, Lucy, also the weakest, while the most evil antagonist, Madame I-Forget-Her-Name, could only be brought down by her own gun, and the gillotine was never brought down at all?" (I obviously harboured an annoyance at this book because my ninth grade teacher never went more in depth than plot and characters.) AP Euro also gives class discussions about human nature and brief overviews of varying philosophies on a variety of topics. It's great, and really fulfilling. I read somewhere else that it's not the best idea to speak your own ideas about things before hearing what other much more creditable people have said. And you know what? It's true.

     Oh. And by the way, that creepy piano guy turned out to be your regular popular kinda nice weirdo. I think he's the president of the Pokemon club. Life's cool after all. :D