I Want to Sleep

I'm in an extremely irritable mood. Why? Because of my annoying schedule tomorrow. Even though, frankly, I don't think anyone gives a s--- about my day. After all, half the time it looks like I don't give a f--- about their day either, and maybe I actually don't.
Whatever.

So Halloween is here, the time of where people either want to show off their costumes or what to wear something different for once without being judged. A time where kids go around, practically begging for candy. A holiday that developed thousands of years ago, born from the fear that the transitioning dark skies, from October to November, let in so little light through the heavy clouds that the people of that time thought spirits could roll in from them. A time of mischievous pranks, jokes, kidnappings, and murders. Yes. What a wonderful day Halloween is.

From tomorrow morning to the end of the wondrous holiday, I'm needed somewhere besides my bed. 9-12PM I have Chinese school as always, because the Chinese don't celebrate Halloween. 12-2PM I eat lunch and attempt to recover from three hours of my ridiculously boring class. 2-4PM I have art class. Since Victor made me feel so guilty, like I don't try to make time for all my friends (I have four separate groups of people I want to try to hang out with everyday, but frankly, it's exhausting migrating around at lunch, visiting people and trying to make up for the fact that I'm not there half the time), I wanted to go to Regional from 4-6PM. From 6-7PM, I eat dinner, once again attempt to recuperate, then go to my friend's house so they can force a costume onto me and then take me out to walk around a dark neighborhood for who knows how long.

And honestly whether you guys take offense about what I say or not, I think you guys would know if I'm talking to you or not, I sometimes think no one cares what is going on in my life, and as I said before, I probably seem the same to you. And the reason why I haven't been around at lunch I'm trying to repair my friendship with people who I haven't got a chance to hang out ever since "Pie" was formed. I can't take a decent nap because it's uncomfortably loud, not like I've ever expected you guys to tone it down a little since time began. If I have homework to finish, it's so unbearably noisy where you guys were, I swear I once wanted to rip my homework up and throw it at you guys in utter frustration. I can't even bring myself to ask for help anymore because from previous years, you guys would attempt to help me, but then start talking about something else, so I was left with a half-explanation and then tempted to join the conversation, ignoring my homework, and get the 'C' I deserved. Serves me right for not finishing my homework at three. What I hate absolutely the most is when you guys want me to play at some game where I have to get up and accompany you somewhere, especially when I'm doing homework. Sorry, but learn to be f---ing independent. What? You want mommy to hold your hand to college, too? How about I go with you to your f---ing job interview, also? Sure, I understand it's much more fun, or you feel better, to have someone to walk around campus with you, but may I remind you that people aren't your f---ing stuffed animals who have no choice to be dragged around by you until their limbs are falling off. And sorry, I don't care if you think you look like a loser walking around by yourself and I do not care if you feel so lonely that you can't walk less than a freakin' quarter mile by yourself. Why? Because I don't. Maybe I don't understand how you've been feeling at home or if you've been neglected by your family since you were born, but if you can't even walk around school by youself, I sure hope I don't go to the same college as you. Freakin' knock on my door everytime you need to go to the bathroom that's probably just down the hall and ask me to walk you to your class (and college campuses can get f---ing big).
And of recently, not only you guys, but a huge bunch of people, kept bugging me about a Halloween costume. So as I've said repeatedly, buying a costume is a waste of money if you can't return it, I don't have time to make a costume or be creative about it, and it's too troublesome to ask around if people happen to have an article of clothing I can wear. As the way I am now, what's the point of wearing costumes? Showing off your outfit? Wearing something you wouldn't wear on your average day? Are actually celebrating the holiday? Do you think all this is fun? If you think that Halloween is fun, that wearing costumes is fun, if walking around dark neighborhoods and asking for candy is fun, I don't see it right now. Maybe I did in the past, maybe I will in the future, but I really can't see the fun in it at all currently. As far as I know, all this "fun" is trying to be forced onto me so that the people around me can be amused. I don't know what's more selfish, to want to have fun with your friends or to want to only address what you yourself wants to do.

Anyhow, don't mind me, you probably wouldn't be able to very much after reading this post. And after successfully wasting over half an hour, I need to finish my Chinese powerpoint and presenation. Ew.

Mere Fantasies

I think I've found the source of my recent depression. I think it's my parents. Not like they've done anything, but you know, they just can't as young as they were when I was in elementary school, you know? It's been pretty weird that my mom and dad's hair, for maybe the last two years, to be growing white. It's like a reminder how old my sister is, how old I am, and obviously, how old they're getting. And since my mom's in China, the house has been more quiet. No car chase scenes or Korean people shouting from the television screen. No random comments my parents make or laughing when the music is all sad. Just the humming of my motherboard and the tapping of my keyboard is accompanying me this night. Last night, the night before, it's so quiet. And so sad. I've been getting along with my father pretty well. We talk more than we would before. Maybe it's because my mom isn't around for him to talk to. The house has toned down a bit ever since my sister went to college, and I wonder if my parents will like their life with me out of their hair. Will they be happy with their freedom, or sad with the stilled air? Would they be thinking in depth about my departure? Or is their matured mind prepared and that my absence would not disturb them. But it's so creepy when they talk about retirement. They aren't that old. Then again, it's from 5-7 years difference, between my parents' ages and a majority of my friend's parents. The difference of a sixth grader and a first-year college student. Mere numbers seem too simple in my eyes, but in the eyes of my past, it seemed just way too distant. Heh, I just remembered an old fear of mine, from when I was maybe in the second grade. I used to be afraid that my parents would soon become elderly, their appearances similar to my grandparents, and that they would forget how to speak English. Somehow that became the reason why I studied Chinese. In eight years, I've grown enough to know that my silly fears won't just happen, but it's still haunting, the image of my parents old and fragile. It seems impossible for your strong parents to look like such a shadow of their past. Then there's those "Joint Juice" containers around the house that reminds you that they aren't strong and reminds you of their aches from age. If life was a neverland, we'd always be living the same roles. The rebellious child, the nagging parents, the bothersome siblings, and wouldn't it all be well? In a fantasy world.

Do You Mind?

I just realized that I never updated about how school was for me. So the first two days have been great. I like my teachers, the classes are very interesting. The one I probably dislike the most so far is P.E. Since all we do is sit on very uncomfortable benches and talk. It's not like I don't like talking with people, but it's P.E., we should be out there running or something! Anyhow, it'll get better after the teachers do their thing, give us our lockers, and finally let us move onto the great outdoors. When that happens, my most unfavorable class would probably be Pre-Calculus. It's just not exciting, not to mention, I've never liked math. Zero period Chemistry is okay, the teacher seems pretty cool and Yasmin's in my class. First period P.E., I already talked about. Second period English is great. My teacher seems really cool. We haven't really done much yet, but I just get a vibe that it's going to be a great year. Third period journalism. Oh my gosh, it's like heaven, but I'm alive somehow.
--journalism rant--
The journalism adviser (I don't really like calling her the journalism teacher, because it just feels weird that way), Mrs. Beach, is cool. She's been teaching English for 30 years, worked with a bunch of editors in the past, and has taught journalism for, was it over 25 years? I don't remember. Anyhow, she's really cool and fun. The whole team is just as great. Although I've yet to talk to them or get to know any of them up close, they all just seem so enthusiastic about being there. When Mrs. Beach asks who wants to run an errand for her, this one guy--I forgot his name already--literally jumps up as he says, "I'll do it!" It's so cute. Currently, I really don't have much of a position in journalism. I'm currently fighting for the columnist position. It's just where you can write anything you want, but it has to be creative, funny, and connects with the readers. It's kind of like an editorial. Anyhow, I think it's a nice position, and I thought it was interesting, except there's a bunch of other people who want to spot just as much as I do. I'm a bit intimidated. Guys, you can shower me with as many compliments as you want, but in my head, it will always be, in 18 point font, Arial, bold, "Don't stand a chance." We have to write a sample column and you know, my grammar, vocabulary, and spelling sucks, don't ask why I want to be an author. I actually don't have a good sense of humor. I laugh at really weird things and the jokes I make are really lame puns that make some of my friends depressed because it was really just that lame. Creative, I guess I'm okay with, but I've thought of several ideas and I realize that my topic is just weird and stupid or I have nothing to say about it. Yeah, I went from very optimistic to very pessimistic. I depress myself. You know, I have to sell ads (as in going to businesses or academies to see if they'll pay so their ad shows up in our newspaper) and sell up to $50 or I don't get an 'A'. My parents said something about it sounding like bribery for a grade. I know we need money, the school doesn't fund us, and all the schools have their own money issue. And for people's information, our school ads are so not cheap. When people get their free newspaper, most of the time, the random pieces of paper stuffed in there are not random, they're ads we call "inserts". So while the inserts fall out of people's newspapers and flutter around school like tumbleweed, people paid $45 each for that. As a person who's money is actually just a collection of pocket change my sister gave me (the rest of my dollar bills were spent to pay my dues, meaning to pay back friends money I borrowed), that is a freaking lot of money. To print all 10 issues of the newspaper spends us up over $4,000, since we do have to supply 8 pages of a newspaper to over 2,200 students plus facility. You'd think people would respect the newspaper, you'd think. On the bright side, since lots of businesses buy ads (they're practically donating us the money) we usually have money leftover, which we spend to buy new computers for journalism/yearbook staff.
--end of journalism rant--
Fourth period is math, and you heard my opinion of it. Fifth period history is pretty interesting. The teacher is nice, she makes history much more interesting, granted she told us the history of how sticking up your middle finger came to be, how sayings like "raining cats and dog" came about, and did you know "saved by the bell" was actually people buried alive ringing that bell? Anyhow, that was the first day, and the second day we went to get our textbooks, so I'll see how much I enjoy history later on. I don't really like the people in there, it's full of people who'd always cause trouble and mess around. I'll live, though, hopefully. And finally, sixth period is Spanish. The actually teacher isn't around, so we have a substitute named Mrs. Smart. She lives up to her name rather well, and I think she's a rather interesting teacher. I remember her from substituting my Spanish teacher last year. She's a nice person with many years of experience, though the class gets pretty tough with her manning the station.
I won't lie in saying that I get pretty worn out after class. Perhaps taking a zero period was a mistake? Who knows? Maybe the future.

Fear of My Life

Well, what do you know, here again around the same time. I think. Anyhow, I may seem like in a humorous mood, but I've just been scarred for life. Why, you might ask? Besides the fact that I just had the most terrifying moment in perhaps my entire life so far, my respect for my parents took a major step down. Okay, so to be blunt, I saw a cockroach. If you guys haven't realized, I have a huge fear of bugs. Even if they are ladybugs or butterflies, insects in general scare the life out of me. Ants are the only ones that can be near me without me totally freaking me out, because I passed that phase years ago after I realized that it's impossible to escape them. But a cockroach. THE VERY NAME COULD SEND ME TO H---. I was watching an anime I recently discovered. It's called Lovely Complex, it's cutely romantic and it's really funny, I totally recommend it. But enough of that. So there was a really loud fluttering sound and before I know it, that huge, disgusting, vulgar, vile, and down-right creepy monster of a thing appeared in my doorway and you know what I do? I just let out a big, fat scream. My parents' reaction? Zip. I had to scream "COCKROACH!" a million times. There was this one time, when my sister and I both screamed at the same time when a cricket suddenly appeared out of nowhere. My parents just continued watching their shows and my sister said to me, "It's sad how they're so used to us screaming out that they don't even bother asking what's wrong." Yeah, the sad truth. But you know, I was scared out of my mind. It was big man, big. I screamed and screamed and jumped onto my bed, held my blanket up to my head and screamed like a madwomen (I bet my neighbors were debating on whether to call the police to report a murder). My dad enters the room calmly and catches a glimpse of the cockroach midflight to my sister's bed which was right above me. My dad grumbled to himself while tossing the cover sheet around half-heartedly around and said that it vanished. Then he left to report to my mom that I wasn't crazy and that there really was a cockroach. My mom's response, "Really? Ah, this is going to be troublesome." Then they go back to watching their stupid drama. THEY GO BACK TO WATCHING THEIR STUPID DRAMA. Dad, I understand that you work hard everyday trying to support a family and that you're older than most of my friend's parents (if my friend is their parent's first child), but I'm sitting their sobbing uncontrollably, and you act like you don't care at all. Mom, I know I'm always making a fuss, and have to deal with me a lot when you probably just want to relax sometimes, but you are just as indifferent as my father. Tell me, is that not cold at all? Am I overreacting? About either of the two things that happened to me at that moment? Am I? Of course, by then my paranoia has gone over my head and I can't help but to feel that the cockroach could even be behind me at that very moment, so I run out of there. When I was in my parent's room, I felt safe, but the thought of the cockroach made me go mad, and I started crying again. This isn't a joke when I say, I've never cried so hard before in my life. Granted, I'm a fifteen year old girl, that amount of living is insignificant to even my 22 year old sister. But I was just in there crying, and I was sure that my parents could hear me (it's starting to sound like I planned this all out . . .) and they don't even comment about it. They talk very loud, I know, I evesdrop on them all the time except when they're talking about me. Anyhow, so I crying thinking that one, my life is slowly going to be ruined by a cockroach and it's stupid spawns, but two, that my parents don't care if I'm miserable or terrified at all. You know, as a child, whenever my parents scolded me and I started crying, they'd yell at me more to go cry out of their sight. I always figured that they didn't want to see their child making such a miserable face in front of them--that or they got sick of me crying from when I was a baby and didn't know better than to cry when I was supposed to sleep)--but I'm starting to have second thoughts, except for that last part. And so I regain composure and poke my head out and ask my mom what I should do. "Do whatever," was pretty much the gist of what she said to me. Then my dad said, "I can't do anything about it if I don't know where it is." Since I decided that either I run away from home (which is pretty dumb for obvious reasons and the fact that there are even more bugs out there) or the cockroach goes. So I stood at the doorway of my room, staring and staring. I gathered the couraged to step into my room and quickly tidy my things up, just so that if the cockroach appears, it couldn't crawl into a huge mess (luckily, earlier I had the sudden urge to clean up my room a little, so it wasn't that bad). Finally it showed up, fluttered viciously and landing on an old binder I was thinking about throwing out, though I knew my answer after that thing touched it. Of course, none of those thoughts occured when I saw it. My big mouth opened again for another furious scream, and my dad came to me angrily. He looked into my room and apparently saw nothing, so he yelled at me to stop screaming, but rather to tell him where it is because he can't do anything if he doesn't know where the blasted thing is. I had a huge debate speech in my head that had to do with, I can't help but to scream because I'm just that scared and that the cockroach moves. If he doesn't run to me, it'd probably scuttle out of sight by the time he gets there, I can't even point the direction where it went, because I ran back into my parent's room again to take shelter. So after calming down when my dad left, I tried to hunt down the cockroach while tightly holding onto this belt-like-thing for stress reasons. I finally saw it, on my blue bag, by the way (I really want to throw it away now), and I managed to keep my cool and I called out to my dad where it was. I kept an eye on it except it was crawling right at me! I was backing away when my dad came to my rescue and so I ran away. My dad said something about the cockroach going into the bathroom so I should just go away for the moment, so I went into my parent's bathroom instead. I sat in the clean shower and cried with my hands covering my ears (I don't know what I was trying to not hear). After a long time and I heard the mumbled voice of my father through my hands, I knew it was over. Up to this moment, I don't know what he did with that thing, and I'm glad I don't. I just hope he didn't catch it and let it go, which I'm pretty sure he did. Just the thought of it being in his hands makes me shiver. I do give my parents credit for not being a spineless whimp like me, who still screams (though not as loudly, nor as furiously) at the sight of a cricket sometimes. I still feel like they don't care about me, though. My dad called the cockroach an "insignifcant cockroach" and I'm just like, yeah, that scared the living day out of me, if you haven't noticed. Although my parents are over a million times smarter and wiser than I am, I think I'm more sympathetic than they are.
I'll say one more thing, it's a good thing my sister wasn't around, here to witness a cockroach fly onto her bed and stay there for who knows how long. Except she did tell me that there was a cockroach in her room at Caltech (happened twice really). I laughed at her situation on AIM, but after seeing one, I think I should be b---- slapped and hanged. Though she seemed composed when she talked to me, but what the heck does that say, it was through an IM box where you can hardly communicate feelings other than "-cries-" or something like that. It's also a good thing that she's up North helping her boyfriend who's helping her move into their apartment (since they're going to live together when she goes there for gradschool) because that means she won't be sleeping in her bed for a long, long, long time. The next time she visits is probably winter vacation, since Thanksgiving is too short to come all the way down here for. It's much farther away than her other college, that's for sure. Anyhow, before she left to go help the moving in, she slept in the guest room (the room I'm in right now, actually) because it's cooler in here than our room, since there's only one wall to the outside world for the guest room, and two for my bedroom, which means that the heat transfer is less. Moving on, it was a smart move of my sister. Hopefully the cockroach didn't touch any of her stuffed animals (or any of mine, for a matter of fact!) although she'd probably keel over and worry about it when she comes home anyways. Bugs. Insects. I curse you to the ends of the world. The one thing I detest the most. It's worse than annoying people, which I won't even go on right now, and almost as bad substance abusers, normal abusers, killers, and rapers. They are just about the worst. I swear, if there was a God, he likes to send a cricket ever time I'm happy. This time, since I was slacking off from math homework again, and enjoying my show too much, He decided to send in the big guns. If I could list how many times my good days were ruined by a mere bug, this blog could not be bloated enough, and this blog has . . . an infinite amount for you to write? Point is, there's a lot, and I honestly think that the world is out to get everyone, especially on their good days.

News Flash

Well apparently my Cbox hasn't been working all this time. Hee Soo finally told me yesterday night, and I was like, "Seriously?" I realized after an hour that I overlooked the "Unlock" and "Lock" option. That was really sad and a waste of time. Well, I was talking to Diana a moment ago and she was telling me how she was planning to inform me about my Cbox but kept forgetting about it.
Well, another thing I recently found out that Julia's name is actually not spelled "Joolia". She just did that on Facebook so people wouldn't find her easily or something like that. It worked for when I was looking for her, but when the July 3rd pictures of me and the other from the pot luck, I just friended everyone tagged, including Julia. Since I'm talking about Julia again, I'll take this chance to rant about how at cross country we both discovered that we're just like twins.
So firstly, we're Asian, yay. She's half mainland and Taiwanese--and all Taiwanese demand that they're completely different from mainlanders--so we're both "Chinese". We both have extremely nerdy older sisters. We love English and we're both creative writers. We like art, heck, we're in the same art class. We agree that we just don't mix with math and science. I think we found other similarities between us, but they don't really come into mind at the moment. For the last news flash, I learned that Julia isn't going to Cerritos High next year. Instead she's going to some private school because her parents think she'll get better grades there, I think. I'm so sad. I finally find my long-lost twin, then I realize I'm not even going to be seeing her much anymore.

Power Shortage

I'm seriously on a power shortage. Typically, I'm rather hyper and active, even though I'm still lazy when it comes to working, but now I'm just really tired. I didn't even feel like blogging right now. But because of a random impulse to, I'm here typing. Well, it's not like you can completely blame me, cross country is pretty exhausting. Anyone who doesn't think so must not be trying hard enough. I come home, take a shower sometimes, then I go on the computer until my eyes are threatening to close on me for the next few hours, and I toss myself onto my bed and let them. I snooze for a few hours until around 1PM, usually, and I eat lunch. I watch anime on my computer as I'm eating, then I watch more anime when I'm done eating. Then I go back to sleep sometimes and don't wake up until dinner. This is becoming a hazardous lifestyle. It's unhealthy and I'm going to put on excess fat that I burned off in cross country. Basically what I'm doing is making my hard work in vain. I'm very grateful today is Friday. I can sleep in tomorrow and go to art class that allows me to just sit there for two hours and stare at my painting that I've been working on for the past four weeks, which is four days in total, since I only have class once a week. Normally it takes me only one day to finish a painting, but this one's bigger than the rest of them. I'll try to post a picture of it tomorrow. If I finish it that is. I should. I only have a few more flowers to paint and add some more details.
Putting that aside, I'll talk about my day today. It was another fun day at cross country like that blob game we were playing on Wednesday. Today was foccer, a game where we play football and soccer on the same field, at the same time. There was a frisbee in there too, being thrown around. Of course you don't have to play football, you can play soccer, vice versa, or play frisbee. The point was to just keep moving and enjoy yourself in the chaos. I thought it was pretty fun. I was just running after soccer balls that was impossible for me to catch up with and meaninglessly kicking out my legs while attempting to steal the ball. It didn't work out very well. Near the end of the game, I saw a soccer ball rolling past by a distance away, so I started to run after it. Then for a moment, I thought that I was in a dream. During that time I kind of felt like I wasn't there, like my mind blanked out. Then I suddenly realized that my face was way too close to the grass and put my hands in front of me, but I was too late to save myself. My hands were a little scuffed and the skin on the hill of my palm peeled off a bit. Except my knee was a different story. If I look at it now, there actually isn't any huge open wound or a huge part of skin was scrapped off. There's just a few small cuts, but half of my kneecap is pinkish-red, and it really, really hurts. It didn't feel as bad as before. The cross country coach dabbed some disinfectant on my knee and I stuck on the bandage my friend, Susan, got me, then I was all good to go. I left for a few minutes from blogging to go shower, and I admit, my knee didn't hurt that much as I thought it would. It did sting a little from the water, but I think that's because the biggest wound didn't close completely yet. Thankfully there isn't cross country tomorrow, because I don't think I'd want to run on my knee. I'm being a little dramatic about my little injury, but it hurts, and that's all it takes to makes me want to chicken out of practice.
Well, I talked about the future, I talked about the present, now it's time to talk about the past. Yesterday night, after staying with us for a year, my grandmother left to go back to China. I'm sad to say that I wasn't all that sad about her leaving. That's a really cold thing to say or even think. It's not like I know for certain when's the next time I'll be able to see her again. My grandfathers already died, I'm a little concerned about when my grandmothers' time is going to come. More importantly, she's family and it's not like she's ever been mean to me. I suppose I'm just a jerk like that. I'm just an unfeeling boulder that never visited her even though her room was right next door, and I never talked to her even though I said I would. There was no difference from when she was on the other side of the world. Let me talk about my grandmother for a moment. She's a short, nice, little woman. However, certain things she does annoys me without me having to think about it. Everytime I come home she'd walk out of her room and say, "You came back?" In Chinese, of course, and I'm not sure about my translationg, but it was something along that line. For some reason, after a while, it just kind of ticked off something in my mind and I was tempted to say, "Who else would it be? Dad doesn't come back until four, and Joy doesn't live here anymore." Somehow I'd hold in the nasty words and my anger would go away. But just those small acts of kindess annoyed me, and that worries me. Am I going to be this irritable person forever who gets mad at things people do, even if it was out of goodwill? Am I just going to be an uncaring person for people and never realize how much I want their company until they're gone? I'd like to blame that I can't communicate with my relatives, but I think that's just an excuse I'm pulling up to make myself sound less like a jerk. Except it is true though, my Chinese is really bad. I'm in Chinese AP in my Chinese school--I think my teachers are just too nice and letting me pass--but it doesn't change the fact that, in real life, my Chinese is low-class. I can't even understand my parents when they're talking at dinner because they're speaking way too fast and I don't know half the words they are saying. I can get a general idea what they're talking about, but I miss out on all the details, and they get annoyed if I ask them to tell me what's happening in English. I'm saying all this and complaining, but really, it's still all my fault. I don't study for Chinese school or anything, I don't practice my vocabulary or anything. Everything I learn, I give it back to the teacher (a Chinese proverb). I seriously disappoint myself sometimes. When I was a small child, I used to cry and worry that when my parents get old, like into their 60's or 70's, that they'd forget how to speak English. I know this sounds ridiculous, but it's true. You know how people get old and forget things, well, I thought since my parents aren't all that great in English (even though, I've learned in the past few years my father's pretty good in English; he used to help my sister write her first-rate essays for college) that they'd forget how to speak English and I wouldn't be able to talk to them anymore. At that time, I worked harder in Chinese school because I thought that if my parents forgot how to speak English, I'd just learn Chinese. What happened to that child, I wonder? Who am I now? A nasty, lazy bum who may have better common sense, but I feel like I was a better person when I was ignorant, innocent, and hard-working. I sometimes look at my pictures hanging on the wall, where I was still in elementary school. I know now that I wasn't a nice person, being a bully and all, but I used to be a person who was decently happy with herself. I was stupid and mean, but I used to be glad to be me. I'd have those moments where I'd wish I'd disappear, like in band, I really don't want to talk about that right now, but out on the playground, even though I was lonely, even though people didn't like me, I was proud to be who I was. Now, I don't even want to look at myself in the mirror. I disgust myself so much with my habits that I fail to change, even though I realized my faults years ago.

It's You, Not Me

Why is it that when we get scolded by people, assuming that it's for your own good, that you still feel angry at them? I'm having my sister correct my math homework, since pretty much what's on it, all four worksheets of it, is going to be on the final tomorrow. Well, as the typical me, I was messing around on Facebook at the same time and my sister was getting on my case about getting my butt off it. I got angry at her for a moment but I managed to calm the swears in my head, convincing myself that I'm at fault. I have an issue with being wrong. I guess I'm like my mom in that perspective. We hate to be wrong and try to blame others most of the time. In elementary school, the fifth grade, I used to have a friend that I'd play with all the time during recess. One day, this other girl, who seemed to be a a friend of my friend. I'm confusing myself, since I prefer not using names, I'll just use girl A and B. Okay, I'm friends with girl A, then girl B, who seemed to be a friend of girl A, told me that girl A said, "Jenny never says sorry". Something like that, along with the lines that she hates me, girl A. Since then, I've always been pretty conscious of what I say. I'm always afraid of talking because I'm either going to say something rude, something mean, and never sorry. I feel apologetic, but what good does it make if I tell myself that? I already know I'm sorry, it'd do me some good if someone else, particularly the person I hurt, knew, too. Anyhow, my point is? I feel like I need a focus on my ranting. I can switch from one topic to a million different ones that hardly relate. Let me move back to what I was talking about earlier.
So, why is it that we, people, always seem to get angry when we get in trouble, when it's our fault? Another example of that, which is not about myself, is at school. No chewing gum is an obvious and known rule. I doubt that anyone is completely oblivious to the rule's existence. So why people keep chewing gum in class? I don't know. I personally don't like gum very much. Anyhow, so a girl in my class is chewing gum in class, doing a bunch of things against the rules like listening to her I-pod. So the teacher tells her to spit out her gum and took her I-pod away. Since I sit near her, I got to hear a nice chain of curse words aimed at the teacher. If she was new to the school and it was her first day, it would seem just a little bit unfair for her I-pod to be taken away, she should be given a warning. But no, that's not the case. She has been warned several times and teacher just got fed up with it. She should have listened to the teacher rather than rebel. Why do people rebel right upfront against people, teachers especially? If we listen to them, it'd all be okay, people wouldn't in trouble, and they wouldn't get mad at the teachers for punishing them. It seems to me like the uncooperative students are the reason for their own suffering and anger.

Easier Said than Done

So many people don't appreciate what they have. I admit, sometimes I don't fully appreciate all that I have either. Is it so hard to be grateful for everything you have? Yes. When you're in a bad mood and everything seems to be going wrong, you'd rather toss your life away than be happy you've been blessed with it. No, I am not going to talk about how people don't realize how lucky they are for getting schooled and having a roof over their head. What brought this up was just reading a blog of my friend's. It was March and there was a short story contest. You, my dear readers, know quite well that my ambition is to become an author. With that, I want to take every opportunity I can to show my capability and present my work to others. That and I wish to gain acknowledgment from colleges. Well, anyhow, I won last year, but not this year. Sure, I was upset, but I got over myself. There are many great writers out their, my age or not. However, as I was reading my friend's blog, one who happened to win second place, he was saying how he hated how his English teacher is making the class write a story and enter the contest. Then he says how he just wrote whatever for the contest. I felt like I was stabbed through the chest. I put a lot of time and effort thinking about what to write, editing, reading it over, coming up with different ideas to see which one is better. Wouldn't you feel retarded how you get scuffed by a person who didn't even try? If you studied for five hours and you still get a worse score than the person didn't even bother touch their notes. It makes you wonder, was it a difference in luck? Or was it a difference in mind. Or in talent.
That really wasn't on the appreciation topic, but let me just add it doesn't seem like people are grateful or even happy they won. Maybe they are and are trying to hide it so they don't seem like boasting jerks, or they really find it burdensome. Another friend of mine won third place and she was all complaining about this little award ceremony that's given for the contest winners. If you don't want to go, then don't! I fail to understand why she insisted on complaining to me. I swear, I sometimes feel like people just want me to kill them out of irritation. Anyhow, she was acting like it was the most annoying event in her life and in my mind, I thought, "I would trade my life in order to be recognized." That sounds a bit dramatic but it's true. I want my writing to be recognized, I want people to read my work and say if it's good or not. I want people to read the words I've thought about and the feeling I put in. If they appreciate the work I put forth is up to them, and I wish, no. I work hard everyday in hopes of sharing those words I stayed up late to type. To understand them. To understand me.
I don't understand how my blog post follows my little "appreciation" rant in the beginning.

Tell Me the Reason Why

It's past midnight, I need to wake up early for school tomorrow (today) to turn in my textbooks, I still need to last minute cram for my English and Spanish finals, so why am I here? I don't even know why myself. I just feel like a little rant. My friend sent me an email saying "don't you sometimes wish Life was like a Word document? You can use the scrollbar to whiz past the ugly moments of life, the undo button to undo mistakes, the "Find" tool to find missing things, the highlight thingy to highlight the good parts of you and have people not focus on the bad things so much." I was just like, wow. I don't know how to say this. "Deep" is the word? "Good reason"? I'm at a loss of words a lot lately. Not good since I'm shifting into a writing mode for the summer. Anyhow, I was just impressed by something she said. Then I kind of wondered what if we could do those things. I remember a time in elementary school, I played so much video games over the summer, came back to school, and when I messed up, I actually thought, "Where's the restart button?" I feel really dumb for thinking that, but what if there was one? You could start everything over so it's right. You could do things your way, have the life you wanted. What the point, though? To be happy? What about other people? Let's say you want to be with a guy, so you use that "restart" button to your advantage so you end up with him? What about another girl who wanted that guy? Would she have a "restart", too? If she ends up taking your man from you, what would you do in response? Have a "restart" war? Ignore my really weird example for a moment and think about it. Someone is going to have to be miserable. The only thing is to toughen up. The world is not full of smooth roads and if you trip, you've got to wipe those tears out of your eyes, get up, and keep going. "Suffering builds character", I quote from The Wanderer by Sharon Creech.
I've watched many animes and read plenty of books where the creator expressed their view on the "meaning of life". What really is the meaning of life? I wonder. It seems like it can be anything. I guess whatever floats your boat, that's the meaning of life to you. To me, I think the meaning of life is to experience things. Live for the sorrowful and painful times (I don't mean to be masochistic). Yearn for those happy and carefree moments. Feel all sorts of emotions! Feel love, sad, happy, envy, pain, joy, sympathy, apathy, excited, anger, lust, sinful, crazy, sick, anxious, embarrassed, satisfaction, nervous, hurt, elated, shocked, depressed, emotional, and so many more feelings! Meet different people with unique looks, personalities, hobbies, and talents. Encounter millions of events that could happen only for you. Our lives are different, let's explore them and realize "no one will have the same life as mine". May we relish the good and bad times is dependent on the person, but I, for one, feel like my life would be empty if I left a blank where all the bad times were supposed to be. I'd still feel empty if I only experienced happy feelings, because I've never seen the other side or know what it's like. If bad feelings were erased entirely? If there was no such thing as negative feelings, that's a different story for another day.

Take It, Take All My Happiness, I Don't Need It

How typical. How very typical. Yesterday was probably one of the best days of my life and today insisted that it take back every once of my joy. So yeah, as you can assume, today was an awful day.
So, in first period, Futures, nothing bad happened, I was just utterly bored. We weren't even doing anything, so we just sat around, and for those who have friends in the class, they talked to each other. I just took a nap and then we had to read this one passage thing, I don't even know what it's for, but it's this really depressing story about how this girl got murdered nearby her apartment. Even though she screamed and the people in her apartment saw what was happening, no one called the police until much later. The the passage all goes into this psychological kind of thing about, why didn't they do anything?
In second period, Algebra II, it was okay, we looked over our homework and I seemed to have gotten the gist of it. Then we got our homework. Our 101 problem math homework. It's so painful to do. Especially when we're supposed to only do half of it, but if we do the entire thing, we get extra credit. I need that extra credit. My math grade isn't even funny. It's nearing the edge of a 'C+'. So basically, I'm doing the entire thing reluctantly.
Third period, I have Biology, which means test time! I think I did okay, but yeah. Hopefully I don't drop my grade. I think I have a 'B' in there? Hopefully I won't go down to my math grade. That would suck a lot. Besides the test, there wasn't anything bad or good about that period.
After snack it went downhill.
In fourth period, P.E., we're playing tennis and all, so I was kind of excited, since I used to play a little and thought it was pretty fun. Well, I haven't played in a long while, so I'm horrible now, but that's not what upset me. The guy my team was versing chucks the ball over, it's our serve, but it was head towards me. I just held my racket out and guess what, it flew over the gate and outside. I ran to go get it, but then these other girls were like, "Oh, since you're going out there, can you get ours?" So I all run around the parking lot looking for their ball. Then I run around the tennis courts and around the fence, since I didn't want to jump it. The thing was that since I didn't, I had to run a bit of a distance to the opening of the wired fence, then run the same distance down to get the ball. Then after I got it, I ran the length of the fence, then back down it again, and back around the tennis courts. Since I figured I'd be a burden to my team if I was gone too long, I sprinted and was exhausted when I finally got back. And for some reason, my mood went from tired to extremely ticked off. We play two games a period, so in our second game this other teams shot the ball off into the parking lot area. Then after the game I asked them if they got the ball, then they're like, we have to get that? My irritated response, "Yes, you have to get the freakin' ball, Sherlock. I'm so not running laps Monday because of you." But they were was too lazy to do anything so I went looking for it, but it was in this closed off area that I couldn't get into unless I climb over the fence and it was bell was going to ring soon, my teacher left with the cart of rackets and calls already, so I ran off to the locker room. Hopefully the teacher doesn't count how many tennis balls she has.
Then in fifth period, English, apparently, I didn't do more then half the homework assignment. We're reading Romeo and Juliet and we have to summarize the stuff that's happening. So I thought the homework was to summarize Act II Scene iv, v, vi and do Act II study questions. Well when I got into the classroom and the television with our agenda on it, said our teacher was stamping Act III Scene i, ii, ii, and iv, also. I was just like, no freakin' way. Of course, my teacher has no mercy and won't allow late assignments (sometimes I wish teachers wouldn't prep us for college life). Hopefully the summaries are too many points. I was so happy that I finally got an 'A' in that class. Anyhow, continuing with my bad day, we got a bunch of homework, also. Act II and IV study questions, Act IV Scene i, ii, iii, iv, and v summaries. It's not that hard to do any of that stuff, but it's still quite a bit of work.
Lunch was bleak, the friend I'm purposely ignoring really gets on my nerves without even having to talk to me. I still heard and see what he does once in a while and they annoy me to no end, so I left to go eat somewhere else.
Finally, it was sixth period. It killed me. It was Spanish and we had our written finals today. As always, I disappoint my writer and student-self. I just hope I don't get an 'F' on it. The topic wasn't hard or anything. Write an email to your friend about what you did last week. Then ask your friend specific questions about what they did last week. Finally, end your emails by inviting them somewhere. I think my vocabulary usage was pretty good, I felt like I used words that others may have not thought of using. I was starting to grow cocky because I remembered how to say "I invite you" in Spanish. It's not even that impressive now that I think about it. Anyhow, my brain was probably reduced to a peanut after that, I couldn't even think of words to say when people talked to me. But you know what? I have Chinese finals tomorrow, and I'm volunteering at Gonsalves Elementary School tonight from 7-8PM. So it's not like I have that much time to study afterwords because I'll probably be wasted. I have 56 vocabulary words, how to write it, how to use it in context, know what they mean, and how to say it. There's probably going to be a listening portion, fill in the blanks, and make sentences on the test. Out of the 56 I probably know 5 so far. My friend claimed she was taking Chinese over the summer and I just laughed at her. I can't even begin to understand why anyone would want to take Chinese classes over the summer. I don't even have Chinese school over the summer. I would go crazy if we had to keep going through the summer, just absolutely crazy. You don't even understand how much I hate Chinese and how insanely hard it is for me. If I studied everyday for about four hours, maybe I'd get it, but of course, my irresponsible self loves to procrastinate and I probably end up cramming the last minute and fail the class.