I'm at the library. And I'm hungry. What do I have on me? Bottled water, three prep books, and discomfort. What can I eat? Didactic lessons about grammar, including topics like ambiguity and comparisons. I suck at geometry, critical reading, and ratios. DO YOU SEE THE LACK OF COHERENCY RISING FROM MY HUNGR?

stand in the rain

I think my mom may be going through menopause or something. She's been so irritable at everything lately, and it's really annoying me. Need an example? My eyebrows aren't perfect because I don't have eyebrow plucking skills. And now, every five minutes, she brings up the fact that I look like a 'tute and how my reputation is absolutely demolished now. Thanks for the self-esteem boost, Mom. I shouldn't really care, but it's getting on my nerves. I mean, God, in the society we live in, personality IS pretty important compared to looks. I mean, fuck, a boy looks at some girl and thinks that she's pretty. She'll just be the hot chick to him and nothing more if she can't talk to him. I digress. But I'm so irritated by her irritability because I really need to study for the SAT and she's going all Amazon Rage on me now.

"You failed last time. You'll just fail again. So what?" A 1930 may not be satisfactory for me, but it's NOT failure.

For the past few years, I've just pretty much rolled everything my mother said off my chest. "You're too fat. Your face is too big. You're dumb. You're not pretty enough. You're irrational. " I am not YOUR expectations, mother. I am my OWN expectations. I am a young, intelligent, independent-minded woman trying to make something of herself in the world, so back off!

I'm going to stay in the library until 8 in order to study for the SAT. Same schedule for tomorrow. Same for Thursday. Whoop-de-freaking doo.

Subject Test Scores
Math II (I hate you, math): 710
Biology E: 720
US History: 730

Not Pomona College scores, but they're decent.

For You I'd Bleed Myself Dry

School's over.

I really have to thank Thienson, Debbie, Kevin, and Andy for being the greatest friends to me when I was having an emotionally rough time. 

Wacky Wednesday (GOD JULIE, I AM EMULATING YOU NOW)

Wednesday ended on a fantastic note. After taking a heinous French exam, I made ice cream and crepes in chemistry. After I went to the restroom during chemistry, I dropped by Ms. Bailey's class to pick up my materials for AP Chem. I emailed Ms. Bailey my information, and when I opened my email, I found out that I was a nominee for the Incentive Awards Program at UC Berkeley, which, if I won, would give me a ton of scholarship money.

I was so happy. My chemistry class was extremely sweet about it, but I only told Kevin and Duy in Bailey's class. So fucking happy. After three months of failure and rejections, something good finally happened. 

Afterschool, I went to Factory 2-U and bought 4 hipster t-shirts at extremely low prices. They're pretty nice, with designs of Snoopy, Starry Starry Night, the Beatles, and greco-roman stuff. 

Thrilling Thursday

On Thursday, I forced my Daddy to drive me downtown to the huge Martin Luther King Jr. Library. Short story? I borrowed a ton of books, bought a book, traveled all the way up to the 7th floor, found a cool women's suffrage exhibit on the 5th floor, drank a mango smoothie, finished Asterios Polyp and Y: The Last man, and sat outside relaxing. Really a great way to start vacation. At night, I talked a bit to Jenny, my awesome friend who goes to Vassar, and she got me into watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer!

Funtastic Friday

I spent most of today arranging my Video Yearbook for Junior year. At around 1, I went to the library. I saw a lot of people studying in there, which sort of made me feel guilty because I haven't began studying for my SAT yet. To my surprise, I saw Brian in there studying for his subject test. He excitedly showed me some books. I hope I didn't come off as rude, but I just nonchalantly nodded (again, the alliteration!) at his boyish zeal for some of the books he showed me. (And Still We Rise, 1984, so on.) I guess I always felt bad for emotionally depending on him throughout the year, and being overly friendly with him. Well, so it goes. And now, I go shopping!

i'm coming home

so, you probably found this blog on facebook, which i plan to stop using over the span of the summer. check for updates!

edit: I lied. I'll be using Facebook every two weeks or so just to keep in touch with Debbie and Amy and them pplz.

I'm With You

I think my worse fear ever is to live a life where everything is set up for me, to live a life with no problems, to live in complacency. You know, to live like a Stepford wife and just smile to fight the fear of diminishing and the burning loneliness. That would scare me a lot.

I really want a major change to occur this summer. To change from awkward Stacey to cultured and sophisticated Stacey, confident Stacey. For the past two to three years of my life, I've tried to emulate  hardass feminists, but the thing is, they don't need to be spoonfed confidence. 

I've changed so much this past year. I've gained a lot more wit, but I've also become pretty reserved and standoffish. Comparing myself from last year, I am pretty much a fucking hipster right now. Minus the ridiculously expensive indie clothes, I am somewhat of a charlatan and pseudointellectual who listens to ah, indie music and watches movies like Little Miss Sunshine and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and Juno. My hobbies are writing and reading. I suck. 

Still, a part of me deep down inside knows that I'm this independent-minded, intelligent young woman who's suffocating in an ordinary world. Got to put myself out there. Change this summer!

Anyway, here's sort of a bucket list of what I want to (or am obliged to) do this summer:

1) College crap

2) Go to Canada with the family

3) Learn fauxtography

4) Read those comics Jenny recommended to me

5) Read a lot. I have to compile a list.

6) Volunteer at the library! :D

7) Interact events

8) AP homework (oh the joys of taking four AP classes)

MORE2COME.

Okay, I'm going to avoid all social networking sites for the first month of summer vacation just to get AP homework done. Canada, Interact, library, AP homework. What a fun summer.

Laughable:

• The naked scene in A Room With a View.

-Kevin, "That's the most action you'll get in ten years."
-Brian, "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

• In French

-Kiet: Want some? The deformed jelly beans are cheaper.

-Calvin: Wait, why are you filming me? STOP FILMING ME. 

• Shooting Zaw with a Nerf Gun and laughing evilly with him 

• When my parents saw the cuts on my wrists and arms, they came to 2 conclusions

A) Someone scratched me and I was going to die of Hep. B.
B) I joined a masochistic, Satanic cult.

• BSing through my math binder like a BOSS. 

Surrounding myself with people.

To Write Love On Her Arms.

What have I been doing for the last 4 days? Crying a lot. Alternating between sad indie music and Plath and Neruda poetry. (And Ginsberg. Lots and lots of that disillusioned Beat Generation poetry.) Going back to cutting, though now that I confess it, I feel obligated not to do it. You know how they say pain releases endorphins? I adhere to that belief. My life has been this cycle of depression, numbness, and then ephemeral happiness. And truth be told, it fucking sucks. And cutting? It distracts me. It renders me weak and numbs my emotional pain for a while. And I become scared as hell of myself. 

I've just been so tired. And even worse, I've become a cesspool for people to dump their vents into whereas I can't even deal with my own personal issues. Today was a test of fortitude. APUSH left me feeling guilty beyond hell and I felt terribly awkward around (let's call him) Harry Potter. I cut and cried, and no one even suspected me of doing anything, except for Andy. Yep. You know how horrible your day is going when the highlight of your day occurs when David Lam threatens to throw your flashlight in the garbage. 

But there were a lot of positive things about today that I've neglected to talk about. For example, Mrs. Clark, the obdurate, overly nosy German substitute was kind to me at lunch. She offered me her umbrella when she saw me sitting in the rain (crying). Though a slaughterer of French literature, Mrs. Clark has been kind to me. In class, she even talked about the importance of self-confidence (she goes on digressions like this, dear Lord). Also, talking to David after school really did make me feel better. I absolutely abhorred him in freshman year, perceiving him as cocky and a little self-righteous, but I find myself a little touched by his ability to listen. Well, our conversations always seem to turn out with empty threats, but whatever.  Oh yeah, and the board celebration was after seventh period. I really have to thank Tina, John, Julie, and Helen for their words of inspiration. Even though I didn't make Interact office, I felt really touched by their messages regarding self-confidence and personal growth. I couldn't have met a kinder, more dedicated group of individuals. I hope them all the best. 

I told Debbie and Thienson everything a few hours ago. Debbie's right. I distance myself from people and wait for magical fixes, which is against my inherently personable nature. I shouldn't do that, honestly because Debbie will always be there for me. So will Kevin, Andy, and Thienson. I do have friends, and I don't need to sink myself into the quicksand of solitude. I have Andy to talk about quirky, light-hearted subjects. I have Kevin to nurture my intellectual side. I have Thienson to talk about my feelings and aspirations. I have my people. I just need self-confidence.

Today, Thienson told me that I would make a great older sister, and that really touched me. It's really strange how our friendship grew from unrequited crushes. He always talks about that beautiful, energetic, optimistic girl and I always talk about that curt, literate, wry, kindhearted boy. I love the unconventionality of our friendship. The junior and the freshman. The devout Catholic and the iconoclastic atheist. Two minutes into our friendship, Pearl Buck Guy (he had a copy of The Good Earth) told me that I was going to die in Hell. I can't help but smile.

And speaking of that curt, literate, wry, kindhearted boy? Aren't relationships so much better when you don't consciously realize you like a person. Three months ago, he was just the guy I could share a dirty joke with or complain with. We were just standoffish kids who both had a few good friends, a penchant for books, and a wry sense of humor. Hell, three years ago, I found him to be a little too smug. But things change so quickly, don't they?

I never believed in God, but I sure as hell believe in miracles. I hope I can return back to impartial, awkward as phuque, realistic Stacey, though if I do retain tenderness, that would be great. Things will get better. Try not to be neurotic. Stay calm. 

/rant.

Oh, this is irrelevant, but hilarity ensued (to me) in PE today when Mr. Barr cited the Equal Rights Amendment. Sorry dude, it doesn't exist  yet thanks to asshats like Phyllis Schlafly. 

And Julie? Thanks for reading this. To know that another living being is reading this just makes me feel so relieved and safe. :)

Hey.

Dear someone listening in the shadows,

I am alone, and I'm afraid of what I might do to myself. Please talk to me. I've been living the past few weeks in utter depression, yet inable to communicate with anyone. I've been keeping myself alive with sad music and sad poetry. I've been doing really bad things to myself. Please give me one ounce of faith in the world and in myself. Please help me. I am really afraid of myself right now. I've never believed in God, but if anything exists above, give me one sign that things are headed towards the goodness. And please don't let me die. 

7053.

a fuck you very much, world.

Lately, everything has been tiring me. The past two weeks have taken their toll on me, and the only person who tried to cheer me up was Thienson.

Well, yes. AP testing slaughtered my morale and pretty much sucked the life out of me, but that's expected. Other little, agitating things sum up. Ridiculous thoughts which I can't control sum up. People's ignorance sum up.

Taking my SAT II's a few days ago, I experienced this literally, heartbreaking feeling of estrangement. Filing to get into my room for the tests, I saw so many of my classmates from middle school, some of whom I have known for over 9 years. It really hurt me when no one remembered who I was, whereas deep inside of me, I knew every single bit of their idiosyncrasies. It made me upset, but rationally, time changes everything. People move on. I am just so addicted to the past that I forget how terrible most of it really was. I am so addicted to having long talks with Cindy about culture and life and so engrossed with remembering how giggly and stupid I used to be with Ampy that I completely neglected the fact that Cindy resents me now and that Ampy has a girlfriend now. I used to me impervious to the allure of the past, but recently, the issue has just fuckin' reignited. The last time the issue of crumbling middle school friendships affected me was, ha, 7 months ago when I saw Cindy at an Interact event. She literally ignored me and failed to acknowledge me as a known person, even if she has been the person who ushered me into my love for creative writing and even if she was my first true close friend. I remember crying so much that day. But I am a fucking wetbag.

My view on human nature is inherently positive. I believe that everyone has a good heart, and if they don't, that there's always an underlying reason for their rough exterior. Although I keep most friendships at a comfortable distance, I am pretty good at befriending people because of my personable nature. I don't think much (or maybe I think too much) about doing small, kind favors. I relate to The Great Gatsby's Nick, an inherent listener. People generally enjoy my company because although I am painfully awkward, I do listen to them 90% of the time. These past few weeks, I have just felt like a sponge, listening to everyone's worries. Days after days, people tell me their personal stories. The stress accumulates for me. And this accumulation makes me reconsider the value and functionality of my friendships. All of my friendships are polar. I am the listener. I wonder if anyone actually listens when I have something to say because sometimes, passionate, inextinguishable conflicts (vague and inconcrete subject, I knowww) take place in my head. I am so ridiculously sensitive.

A few days ago, Kevin and I argued over the impact of humanities in the world. Kevin, the obdurate scientist he is, believed that the humanities have a very indirect impact on the world we live in. Although I have a similar fascination for science, I disagreed. The world thrives upon the humanities. They help us keep, communicate, assess, and strengthen our ideas. I believe our world would benefit from more people who took an interest in the arts and humanities. And even when that happened, our world would not fail to stimulate us with problems. Our conversation bitterly ended with Kevin replying, "I would not like to live in a world where our only problem is deciding which shirt to wear."

I stopped feeling upset the day after because of my forgiving nature, but going back to the point, arguments burst into flames over the silliest of things and people are just so stubborn, preferring an argument over conceding to preserve a friendship. I am guilty as well.

Also, I hate authority.Yesterday at Gear Up, Mr. Dobrenz yelled at me twice for helping a girl with a variable problem in a method which did not fit his style of teaching, though still yielding the same result and following similar steps. People can be so annoyingly demanding and incredibly narrow-minded. I stood up for myself, but he was too much of an oafish, self-righteous prick to listen, so I decided to stop helping her.

Today in calculus, Jason read out loud the handbook I grabbed a few days earlier about loneliness. The subject became a travesty, and its satire, to be honest, was funny as hell. (The booklet turned out to be come-to-Jesus propaganda.) But there are some people who are truly lonely. Personally, although there are times at which I would prefer solitude, I do feel trapped by my own means, and I wonder if anyone can see or hear me. I have spent three years failing to fit into a social mosaic, and that is truly disheartening sometimes. Because of these failure-provoked feelings, there have been several times, in this year alone, in which I have truly considered suicide. I have also tried self-mutilation. Not true cutting, but I have purposely hurt myself, clouded by the belief that immediate pain would help me repress my unpleasant experiences. (Pain releases endorphins, but I digress.)

A fuck you very much to the world. I am just so tired.

STACEY

PS Just let me die alone, you fucking anthropomorphic entity everyone believes in. I do not even like anyone right now.

i feel like a failure.

Brave New World, Aldous Huxley, p. 47

"Mother, monogamy, romance. High spurts the fountain; fierce and foamy the wild jet. The urge has but a single outlet. My love, my baby. No wonder those poor pre-moderns were mad and wicked and miserable. Their world didn’t allow them to take things easily, didn’t allow them to be sane, virtuous, happy. What with mothers and lovers, what with the prohibitions they were not conditioned to obey, what with the temptations and the lonely remorses, what with all the diseases and the endless isolating pain, what with the uncertainties and the poverty—they were forced to feel strongly. And feeling strongly (and strongly, what was more, in solitude, in hopelessly individual isolation), how could they be stable?" 

there's a fire burning in my soul

So today, I took my subject tests for history and math. Math, in particular, was difficult to finish on time. I skipped too many problems and guessed on a handful :I

I saw a lot of my old friends from middle school, but maybe one or two people remembered me. Junior year has this sickly stench of middle school nostalgia, which is probably the reason why I am by myself most of the time. I don't really belong in the past or the present, so I go all Thoreau--the transcendentalist dude who spent 2 years living by himself at Walden Pond. I was a little hurt, but what could I do about it? The past is the past.

APUSH.

I have done every single study guide, podcast, and DKMAH assignment on my own. I have read the study guides once or twice each. I have gotten 5's on all of my midterms since the beginning of the school year. I study very hard before each essay. Now why am I so nervous? Because I don't know anything about the 20th century. 

I have to believe in myself. 

breathe, just breathe

I didn't sleep last night. I couldn't sleep. Now, I'm so tired and it feels like knives are going through my chest. Listen to Sylvia Plath poetry at 3 in the morning. Like doing that very much. No one seems to appreciate Plath as much as I do. 

Hell Week has officially begun. 

Today was very tiring. My essays for APUSH sucked. I didn't do so well on my last chemistry test. Calculus pretty much ripped my morale apart even though I studied like hell. But in English today, Mr. Brandt gave me a little thank you post card for my inspirational message for him. Best part of my day. 

I didn't talk to people much today. I have come to a realization that I even though I choose to separate myself from people most of the time, I think people are attracted to me for some reason. I am quiet. I listen. I comfort. 

Adieu. Time to study. Must make it until 10PM.