my college geometry teacher is boho. [first day of art school]

[Disclaimer: no pictures are mine.]

It's amusing as I walk in to see that my teacher must be around his late twenties/early thirties and has an absolute boho look. I can tell you that from the second I saw him, I knew he'd be one of my favorites.
He wore a light blue polo that FIT, plaid skinny jeans, he had curly sandy hair and a braid headband on.
Freakin' awesome.His physical appearance is not really close to this, but his personality seems to be able to relate to this...kinda. Only without the suit underneath. Replace it with a polo and imagine him as a guy that has to have done weed at some point in his life.
Our geometry class consists of eight people today. Incredibly weird...especially after twelve years of being in a crammed class room and extra students trying to find empty chairs and bring in new desks from other rooms.I've already committed my first "Freshman" crime in which I went to the bookstore to ask where my class was...No one showed me the other side of the building before! D:
Oh wells. I liked my awkwardness. It's quirky, I guess---- and I tend to get on people's good side with it...most of the time.
So, after that: the two hours to blow off between classes began. Thing is, my friend Danielle and I live forty five minutes away from school and since we're not complete idiots, we decide to save our gas and sit outside and eat.
Our Geo Teach came out to have a smoke, attempted to make small talk, [I believe] and then continued to smoke his cigarette in silence. And after that he left.
I should have said something. I should have not been silent... but, oh well. For some reason this doesn't bother me as much as it would of a few months ago. (I think I'm progressing?? :D)
Danielle came back from the bookstore with a sketch pad like a total art nerd that she is and lent me a piece of paper for me to begin as well.
It was nice. I liked it.
Only a couple of minutes later, however, we moved into the student lounge after we realize we're going to melt in the heat. [stupid hot, dense, over-bearing weather]
And then came the disappointment.
Our teacher for our next class was MIA [nerd-speak for missing-in-action].
With nowhere to be found, Danielle and I resorted to our quiet selves and doodled away, listening in as a loud group of kids talked about everything that I hate about the Internet.
Example? E n c y c l o p e d i a d r a m a t i c a.
*Cringe*.
Needless to say that this class lacked the enthusiasm and warmth I felt in my geometry class. And the teacher. Who never showed.
Sooooo, after waiting for about forty-five minutes someone finally came in and took roll. After that we were allowed to leave early.
Jesus Christ. I hope my first impression of this class is wrong. I hope it is soooooooo wrong.
Tomorrow more classes await me, more people to meet. I really hope I DON'T meet people that remind me of the ones I left behind in high school.
I meant technically my school is more of an art school than a college.
But still. It's not supposed to be high school all over again.
Pretty sure I'd die if it was.

cringing at their disgusting cuteness.

I try to hold back the cringe as I become aware that my best friend's boyfriend has his arm around her and she's leaning on his shoulder and----what's this? Oh my god. I heard a kiss.


Alright. So let me be honest with myself: I cringed because it's my best friend. Yeah, I was aware that she'd been in previous relationships before this guy but, she's never ever introduced me to any of them. Something I don't really mind.
And to be honest, I don't mind being the third wheel as couples. You know...if they didn't ACT like couples. Cause I have. I adore those couples who let me feel comfortable with them.

This was something that I was hoping she would hold her word to. He didn't get the memo.
So halfway through Toy Story 3, I'm sliding down on my chair feeling slightly uncomfortable.
Here's the thing: my best friend is my best friend because we might as well be telepathic, have far too many things in common and should have just been born as twins...but when it comes to personal situations...we don't ever tell each other shit.
And I like that relationship. I keep my experiences to myself; as does she. We could talk about just about anything and have almost no real barriers.
But once again: we don't tell each other shit.
I like to refer to her as an "emotional robot", even though it's totally clear to me that she's not---no matter how much she tries to convey that to me.
I just see it as really strange to actually be confronted with what I've known for a while. It just feels like it's something I know she doesn't want me to see and I suddenly feel like there's a giant elephant in the room that I'm trying to ignore.
But there's that other emotion running through me [other than the very real tears through Toy Story 3, which you should definitely see]. Yes, other than embarrassment for my sad third-wheely-self and disgust as his over-willingness to display public affection...
I was jealous.
So, her guy isn't going to be the winner of "Most-Attractive-Boyfriend-of-the-Year" but he's obviously very...uh...."sprung" on her...
I didn't even know how sprung he was until we snuck into Eclipse.
Oh my god. I was seriously considering standing up and leaving if they started making out. Not only because it would be embarrassing, but I'd also be feeling far too jealous and lonely for it...especially while watching ECLIPSE of all fucking movies.
Sigh. It makes me feel so sorry about myself. I would have wallowed even more in my own self pity...
Had it not been for one thing, I probably would have died in bitterness.
I think I have a new love. And his name is Art.


Art School* that is.
Just got done with orientation and I already know I'm gonna love it. I've also spotted some eye candy. Nothing too exciting happened yesterday [orientation], unless you want to hear the ramblings about how I can't wait to get it started.
All I know for sure, however, is that I'm more inclined to WANT to hang out with the friends I make at this school than the ones I had in high school.
And did I mention that there's definitely plenty of eye candy?
:D

life's restart button, yo.

"If you two don't get boyfriends by time you're freshman at college, I swear..." Jesi trailed off when saying this and Mady and I laugh at it.
We saw it as a joke. But I knew there was some truth to the tone she had used. It's true, Mady has never had a boyfriend. It's true. Neither have I.
The difference is, Mady doesn't seem to have much experience with boys.
And I, pfft. I only beat her by a grain of salt. I have almost little to nothing of experience when it comes to relationship.
Now, let's take flirting. It's definitely different from the word "relationship". When it comes to flirting...I still don't have all that much experience.
But I have some. Unfortunately, flirting doesn't go to far thanks to my immediate frigidness.
Now, why am I frigid? Why am I so cold?
J is always telling me this. Prom night, when I let it slip that I've never had a boyfriend [i was too tired to care and hoped the others were too buzzed to remember...doubt it] he pointed out how he'd come on to me before and I did nothing about it.
And I admitted it with a simple, "Yeah, I know."
Because I did know. I do know.
"Actually, I've hit on you a few times."
"Yeah, I know."
J is honest. I like that about him. And I like him. A lot. I like that he's a black skater who's totally passionate about skating [and like it or not, race plays a factor in this. He said so himself.] His personality is terribly close to mine. We could be movie critiques together. We might share similar beliefs. It's all too easy to talk to him. It's all too easy to have a hilarious time with him. He's a hopeless romantic. As am I. I could probably attempt to deal with him and his heavy emotional baggage if we were in a relationship. Thing is...I don't want to be in a relationship with J.
I'm just...not attracted. It's not even about race as most people would think. I like his personality, he makes me smile and is so sweet and romantic.
"Oh my god, I love your dimples! I love seeing you smile! I could die happy right now just by seeing you smile!" he says to me in the car.
I know I should have responded with something just as sweet. But I couldn't bring myself to.
All I said was, "Awwww. Thanks."
LAME.
Then there was the time where he admitted to falling so low at the beginning of high school that he planned a shooting in his mind. He looked at my horrified face and said, "BUT I'D NEVER HURT YOU! I LOVE YOU!" and kissed my cheek. I went and made fun of how sudden that was.
I feel horrible. I know he's sweet. I know he's nice.
[And before you get the wrong idea, he doesn't like me like that. He's a natural flirt like that.]
What bothers me is that he's just one example. When other boys say similar flattering things, I don't know how to respond. I mean, I love the idea of being complemented and flattered, but I don't. know. how. to. handle. it.
I only just started acted like a semi-normal teenager about a year and a half ago. I came from a secluded, shut off from the social world and on lock down in my own house because of political/parental oppression! And suddenly I seem to have fallen in a world with drinking and pot and people who've had at least three relationships already, hooked up, had sex...have done so much.
And here I am. Trying to make sense of it all.
My parents are separated and my mom is asking for divorce. My dad is starting a new life with a new family. My sister is growing up. I'm heading off to college.
And I'm terribly inexperienced when it comes to what my niche of "friends" have done.
I'm a late fucking bloomer.
Where do I stand? What do I do next? Where do I go?
So far I'm trying to detach myself from certain friends. I'm trying to start over.
My way.
I just kind of wish I knew what my way was.

prom night.

I told Bonnie that I would have preferred having weed than alcohol. This is simply because I didn't want to risk drinking one too many and blacking out. I was actually very scared, very frightened about what might happen on that night. Now that I look back at it, I can understand where my fear came from. But thankfully, it wasn't as crazy or scary at all.
There was no weed. Only Vodka, Red Bull and cranberry juice. I didn't get drunk, just tipsy. It was actually quite relaxing and helped me loosen up a tad bit. But tipsy is as far as I was allowed to go. In the hotel room there were six people in all. Bonnie, Ray, Alisa, J, Mac, Melony, Diego, and I. Melony and Diego left around one in the morning. Melony was Diego's girlfriend/freshman/Christian chick who I saw and immediately thought, "What is she doing up here??? She's just a baby!!!" But they left before Bonnie pulled the alcohol out.
I have to say that the wildest thing that happened was Ray slamming his head on the table trying to break dance and everyone fearing that Bonnie would jump off the balcony. Mac drank three cups and was already ready to pass out. It was a nice balance, I think. J, Alisa, and I were the three sober babysitters, kinda. The other three were just completely drunk.
We spent the night pretty much chillin' in the hotel room. Confessions were made. Small ones. But there were made. Bonding kinda happened. But in the end there was no actual sex or wild college party-esque thing that went on. Except Ray banging his head on the table, though.
Haha. I thought it was funny.
But then again, something MIGHT have happened. I'm not sure. Alisa's mom picked us up around five. As far as I know the rest woke up and Mac had a slight hang over while Ray's head hurt from the table. Honestly, it was an interesting night. Pretty chill compared to all the "What-Ifs" that popped up in my mind.
And being tipsy? Not too bad, not to bad.
Yet, I can't bring myself to say that I underestimated the responsibility of the others. I can't say so because even though it was incredibly chill, I know that anything could have easily gone wrong. There's always that variable you have to watch out for. That variable called reality. Something you have to hold on to, or else. Something that can keep you from creating the biggest mistake of your life.
Now, I'm not big on actual body contact, be it hand touch, hugging or kissing. But being tipsy and tired from the prom dancing made it far too easy to cuddle up with someone. Course, that was actually when everyone was near falling asleep, haha. But who knows? Had we all been more drunk and more pumped, what would we have done? Hmm...
Once again, though, it was cool. I enjoyed it.
As for the followers who answered to my last blog: THANK YOU! I READ WHAT YOU SAID AND BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY THAT I TOOK EVERYTHING YOU SAID INTO CONSIDERATION. I really appreciate your input and hope to get more at some point in time. :]

i'm cute. but i still relate to lesley lane.

Every morning since freshman year, I wake up with the same thought in my head: this is THE day. The day I will meet or at least begin my relationship with my first boyfriend ever.
Every afternoon since freshman year, I come home and think: maybe next time. Tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow. I'm getting some vibes about it.
Every Friday since freshman year I've thought: some girlfrand will call, we'll hang with her and her friends...I'll meet him there.
Every end of the month since freshman year: This next month is the month. I fucking feel it. Much attraction in the air. Much. Lots. Yep. Flirtyness? Yes?....No?....Look away? Oh... in shame? I agree. Look away in shame.
I'm pretty sure my flirt-gears didn't activate until my junior year, though. And they're still pretty premature. Don't get me wrong, I can be flirty, but I don't seem to find the gist of it. Like, I'm either flirting with someone already taken or someone I have no real interest at all. And what's the point in that, right?
At least I'm no longer a Lesley Lane. Lesley Lane is a girl who comes to school wearing the same Gryffendor jacket, shoes with "I love vampires" on the laces [her pants too short so you always see her white socks raised up a little over her ankle], Naruto book bag, sweats, bushy-tied-in-a-low-ponytail hair and glasses.
Well, OK. To be honest, I love this about her. It makes her terribly interesting to me because she has the guts to show off things she's a fan of and/or has a passion for. Not to mention, she reminds me of....me.
At one point I was like her. The socially inept part, I mean. I never was quite as bad as having a face full of acne with glasses and lack of variety in my closet [i totally had red, green AND blue old yard sale t-shirts to choose from in my closet in those days]. But yes. At one point [mostly my middle school and part of my freshman year] I was the quietest kid in class and would totally freak out when someone showed some vague interest in interaction with me.
This is probably why I began to draw and obtained school wide [well maybe not SCHOOL WIDE...maybe just my art class] fame for my abilities in art. I had only a couple a friends, plenty of free time and a pen and paper sitting beside me. Yes. I became and art freak/dork.
Then it slowly progressed to the point where I decided that I couldn't continue life so terribly alone. I had to form a plan. A plan to do something. To have friends. To hang out like a regular teenager. To ACT like a regular teenager, not an awkward skinny girl who looked to be Asian. That was terrible!
Bonnie was my main savior. Of course that was only last summer. The summer after my junior year [which i spent gradually improving my social behavior] in which I finally got a taste of what it's like to just CHILL with teenagers. I finally got a taste of what I'd been missing and yearning and just...CRAVING for so long. And so, yeah, Bonnie [the equally as quiet girl whom I met and became great friends in the sixth grade] became my savior.
Thanks to Bonnie's push into socializing, I know that there are people out there who care about me and are actually INTERESTED in the kind of person that I am. I can now freely make jokes without stuttering so much and worrying about people not getting my jokes. Who cares if they don't get it? I sure don't! Not anymore. I can now speak loud enough for the people around me to hear because I know they can't possibly be beckoning on my every word to turn around, point fingers and judge me...they don't care about that! Why should they? I can now smile and giggle and wink and throw my hair back while I'm talking to someone cute. I can now sort of kind of not freak out with physical contact such as hugs, hand touching, hip bumping and just silly, playful gestures [well, i'm working on that, anyway]. I can now not cry of happy emotions just because someone complemented on something I said or did that wasn't even that significant.
I think back to Lesley. I wonder if people make her week if they compliment her and tell her she looked cute in the prom show [she was in it! :D] and that she's really nice or sweet or maybe just a "thanks for the pencil" or "paper" comment. I know I did. Maybe if I just got ONE compliment, it made my week. It made me smile. It made me a tiny bit more confident.
Unfortunately, being human you can never be completely satisfied.
Today, I know that I can be cute. Actually, I AM cute. I'm not being conceited, but people tell me ALL the time that I'm cute or that my dimples are so cute or that my style of clothing is cute or that my hair is cute or that my overall bubbliness is just...cute.
But I'm tired of cute. Cute hasn't gotten me very far. Sure, it's gotten me more friends on facebook and sure I can now post almost anything and almost always there will be one or more persons commenting of liking them. But that's not enough.
Yeah, I've been called hot.
Yeah, I've been called sexy.
Yeah, I've had guys ask me out.
Yeah, I've been hit on.
But I'm never content--------------------------------------------------------------------
EERRRRRR. INTERMISSION.
*don't get the idea that i'm miss popular princess, here. i'm not. i'm most definitely still a...partially shy person. i'm not like a a goddess or anything. i'm just normal. think...cute asian chick everyone gets along with...just, you know, not asian, but hispanic.*
Anyway. As far as getting hit on: yeah, I've had some attractive guys hit on me. But then again, I don't see that as much because I'm pretty sure they only consider me "moderate" material. Which really means= they hit on me cause they can; maybe just to get a little flirting done, but other than that, there's no more.
And then I've been asked out. A couple [I know] were just as jokes. I played along. So did they---- Yeah. Joke.
The other guys are guys I'm not interested in. Or that I guess I'm too stuck up for. Does it make me horrible not to want to be seen with them? I think so.
I think it's true what some people say about me. I think I might have become snobby.
Am I really hiding behind the excuse that I'm still majorly insecure, or do I just think I'm too good for people?
Oorrrr maybe I just really don't wanna go to the movies with the chubby kid who has the overall character of Peter Griffin. I mean, he can be sweet but... Or maybe I don't want to talk to the equally chubby guy that reminds me of Yogi Bear...who is also sweet but....or maybe I'd like to avoid the short kid who annoys the heck out of me just because he's STALKING me...or maybe that almost decent guy but who won't leave me alone on facebook...AND. SO. FREAKIN. ON.
They're all nice! They can all be terribly sweet! They all have values and morals and things like that. They have personalities that I could definitely be cool, nerdy and dorky with...
Ok. Let's put it this way: had I enough security or confidence in myself [and if i weren't afraid to be seen in public hanging with these guys], I could see me as a type of Sydney White [much less attractive than Amanda Bynes, thank you] and them as my seven dorks [if you've seen Sydney White, you know what i mean about "dorks"].
But I lack that. I still have that part of Lesley Lane left in me.

























UUUUGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!
I just really hope that part leaves before I enter college.

"you have chubby cheeks."

"What do ya got in thur? Walnuts?"
"Ohhhhhh!" cries a junkie. He's right. It was an offense. A great a offense. Strong enough to make me cry.
In fact, I distinctly remember fighting off the urge to cry.
Robert doesn't understand how bad his countrified accented words hit me. He, Bill and Terrance all brought me to the point of tears while they weren't looking. All because of a god damn Kit-Kat bar.
So, I didn't wanna share. What was the problem?
"Huy! I been nice to ya. Why wont you gimme a piece? I haven't called ya Chubby Cheeks in a while."
Bill snickers. Fuck him.
"That's true. But I don't wanna share."
And so he proceeds to insult me. Bill and Terrance kick in.
I sit there and do the same thing that I always do. "I hate you!" I say and bury my face in my arms only look up every once in a while, laughing a little. I'm trying to play along with their jokes like it's nothing. After all, that's what they've done all year. Just teased me.
And I've teased back. A little. Not too much, really. At least I don't think so.
It's just that I seem to talk to these boys easily when they're not being assholes. But when they turn on me and begin to tease...I never know what to do. I don't dare tease them any more. These guys are used to being around rough girls with backbones who will swing their insults away.
I have no backbone. I have no smart ass comments. Not for them anyway. They'd easily swing down anything I say and throw even worse stuff at me.
I'm not used to that. I hate to say that I'm really fucking sensitive...but I am. I really am. Especially about my face and my cheeks.
Yeah, I have big dimples and chubby cheeks, thanks for noticing. Why do you have to be such a dumb ass mother fucking asshole about it?
It hurts. It hurts a lot for someone to point out what you consider one of your WORST imperfections. Especially for someone barely transitioning from UBER SHY INSECURE teen to almost normal.
God, it hurts to be ridiculed and mocked. And feeling so pathetically defenseless when it happens. I think that hurts even worse.

i iz da aim stalkah. beware!

-ENTER AIM USER NAME HERE- has blocked you. She will not receive your message.
For a moment, I'm appalled. Why would Mady block me? Of course, I wouldn't exactly blame her because I am an obsessive AIMer who probably sends her 20 bajillion [its a word cause i said it is!] messages in two hours:

Myusernamehere: hey.
Myusernamehere: sup?
Myusernamehere: are you there or
on invisible?
Myusernamehere: gah. you talk to me more on facebook than on
here.
Myusernamehere: lol.
[5 minutes later]
Myusernamehere: mmmmmmmaaadddddyyyyyyyyyyy?
Myusernamehere: where you at? stop obsessing over
the freakin jonas brothers and talk to me!
Myusernamehere: D:
[35 minutes later]
Myusernamehere: hullo?
Myusernamehere:
imboredimboredimboredimboredimboredimboredimboredimboredimboredimboredimboredimboredimboredandijusttypedallthatwithoutlookingatthekeyboardorusingspaces
Myusernamehere: must i resort to talking to myself again?
Myusernamehere: gosh, you are always saying how you don't have a life, why won't you answerrrr?
[3 hours later]
Myusernamehere: OK, so you talk to me more on facebook than on here,
because? oh yes. i always want lengthy conversations about possible meaningful
stuff, but can't really have these kinds of convos with you when the
meaningfulness varies between your definition and mine. sigh. when will i learn to accept that our convos will always be "hey!" "hi!" "sup" "nm u?" "same." "ah. OK." "yep."

And that's when I got that message that might as well have said this:
She's blocked you. Go away.
And THEN, when I take a second look at her screen name in disbelief, I realize that the letters in the screen name are right---but the capitalization aren't.
Shit. I have been spamming a poor innocent stranger with all my crazy typing... Dammit!

In the end I just send the last message to Mady before exiting out of the AIM box in shame.

Oh, please, don't judge me too harshly.
Here's the thing: I need someone to talk to. Naturally I pick Mady because she's the closest friend I have. My best friend. UNFORTUNATELY, we're polar opposites. The most polar of the most. fucking. opposites. that you can get. So, when I try to converse with her and try to share problems I'm going through... they just seem to fly over her head. As well as her problems with me. The frustration level is extremely high and we tend to bud heads a lot. So why do I keep bugging her on aim?
Because.
Even though I seldom tell her what really bothers me, she's still my closest friend. And sometimes the company-----or even the feeling of company makes me feel better when I'm a little wired up.
This is why I don't care when she dismisses my attempts to get into a conversation about teenage girl problems. I mean, at least I have someone to ALLMMMOSSSTTT converse deeply with.
Sadly, that's good enough for me right now.
.
.
.
.
.
.
AND that's why I have this blog thing. To write about other internal conflict. And also why I love you. :]