a boy who is a dick moment.

I'd been sketching a guy that I thought was beautiful to me. He was similar to an actual guy that I kept seeing in the hallway and who I felt giddy about.
He's a son of a bitch.
I walk out of the lounge and pass their group. They were clearly having a convo and all look at me as I walk out. This is what I hear as I walk by:
"Oh HELL no!"
"Oh my god, You're so mean."
Two things that bothered me:
1. He apparently considered me scum. Doesn't really bothered me as much as
2. The girl who threw out the "so mean" line...threw out the "so mean" line. This, in case you are unaware, is the pity line.
I despise pity. I hate feeling like a weakling in need of defense from a girl who is only offering it because she feels a bit bad for wanting to or laughing at me.
Humiliating, really.
But the good thing is that it didn't bother me so much. I mean sure, I sat in my next class trying to fight off the tears and knowing that at any second I might burst out in random tears and shaking...
Thankfully the topic for our class was about stress and everything that makes it evident.

1. butterflies
2. shaking
3. mood swings
4. etc.

Our teacher is my reason for not breaking down over one little incident. He told us about his experience during the disaster. It made me feel so much better about what had happened earlier.
Here I was freaking out and wanting to cry because some girl felt bad for me and one really cute guy didn't like me.
My teacher spoke about all his troubles after the disaster and the stresses in his life after, while clearly close to tears...as was I. About to cry with him...FOR him. It wasn't even about me any more. While his story had a general good ending, it was a key element for me to get over my own little crisis.
He said that stress isn't about what causes it: it's how we handle it.
And you know what? I don't need to make a big deal about some gorgeous chick pitying the weird looking girl with big dimples. Pfft. What reason will I GIVE her to pity me? And the guy? Fuck him. I have a line building up of other guys who I already like as friends. All I need is friends right now. That'll keep me happy.

art school, chucks and perfect flirting.

"That feels good," I say as I feel his fingers squeezing my neck and attempt to hold back a flinch.
It does not feel good at all.
My mind attempted to come out of confusion, to understand if what I'm feeling is relaxing me...or causing me pain---
It's causing me pain.
This guy can't give massages worth a shit. But I'll give him an A for effort.
We sit in the lounge which has two drink machines, a candy machine, a hot chocolate/coffee machine, a plasma screen TV with Wii. Our group sits in one of the middle tables, being the loud and perverted art students that we are. I never felt so comfortable with strangers before.
But...they don't really feel like strangers. I love this about art school.Two guys come sit beside me in a strategy that I've learned quickly about..
TICKLE ATTACK.
They do this to the giggly "noobs" and it's fantastic.
There's a lot of laughter, a lot of perverted jokes...a lot of teenage antics which make me laugh. And I mean really laugh. Not fake-painful-laugh that I've had to endure for most of high school pretending something was funny so I wasn't outcast.
No. Not anymore. I'm tired of feeling the need to pretend. I'm pretty much in college, dammit. And the people here actually seem really, really interested in me. And it's not pity interest because I'm so shy...I'm not really all that shy anymore.
It's not clingy-I-need-a-girlfriend-and-you're-the-only-one-nice-to-me-so-imma-stalk-you interest either. It's genuine interest. Hopefully.
Or maybe cause I'm still kinda new.
Kinda.
Point is: people seem much more accepting. Much more nice. Much more like able than others. And I love it.
-Bzzzzzzz-My phone kept vibrating during class. One text was from Jesi. The other from Bonnie.
I don't know what to do with Bonnie. She's been my friend for six years now and I have absolutely no reason to dislike her...Heck, she was one of the reasons for why I started to leave my shell during high school.
But... her text...her asking me to go get drunk at a party and try weed for the first time is not something I find enjoyable. It's not something I want to do. It's something I've told her I want to do...SOME DAY. As a freaking life experience and not something I want to do just to get it over and done with. I. Don't. Want. That.
And frankly, I just don't want to hang with her anymore.
It's not that I think I'm better than her all of sudden because I have new friends---oh hells to the nah. It's just...we have nothing in common, to be honest.
I always feel like I'm pretending somehow when we hang. Like I'm pretending to be someone else.
And I don't want to anymore. I want to be myself, my own kid. Not a leech in need of care.
She's part of my past. Part of something that I don't want to think about anymore. Part of something that I just want to tie to a balloon someday and let it fly.I don't want to dis her. I just want to move on.

inception: HOLY SHIT!

I don't want to make this a blog about reviewing books and movies... even though I've gotten close to making it so....I hope that Inception is the only movie I review on here. [i really don't want to make it a review blog.] How can I explain the dream scape that Inception threw me in after watching it? I was in my own "Limbo" for a while, feeling once again like the ground had just been snatched out from under my feet.
My mind is easily influenced, that's for sure. Yet, it's not easily convinced. Does that make sense?
I'm the biggest believer...yet I'm my own biggest skeptic.
The movie suggests [or "incepts"into our minds] that the world we live in may be all just a dream. Who is to say it's not? Who is to declare it reality? What IS reality?
Too many questions arise. Too many doubts.
It really is an interesting movie to watch. So interesting that I felt the need to come on here and tell you all to go watch it. Because I'm lame and I have nothing else I want to talk about.
There are things going in on art school, though. :]
But that shall be a blog for later.

And Mimi: thank you for your response. It means a lot to know that you've thought about this as much as I have. And Mily: Lol. Yeah, your comment confused me a bit but it did make me laugh.

dora the explora shouldn't be driving.

For more reasons than one. For example, she's like what, ten...eight? What would ten year olds need to be driving a car for? Also, if she were in situation in which it were alright for her to drive and it actually be legal, another problem would arise:

I'm not even sure how to describe this picture. At first glance, it's humorous to me. At second glance it breaks my heart to little pieces, then shreds those little pieces and pounds those remains until they become chewable and are then chewed, then spit out and pounded some more 'till they become power and are sprinkled on the ground where they're dampened and wet with urine...
So, I grew up in a community which had more white people than any other race until recent years. We've had an American flag held up on our porch until recently (its so old, torn and the color is washed out so it needs to be replaced) and my father has had his citizenship for a few years now and considers himself an American, as he should.
Thing is, I...I can't bring myself to say that I've grown up knowing and living the life of an illegal immigrant because

1. I was born here (This country)
2. I was raised surrounded by southern
white culture

But my parents are your typical story of the struggles of living in this country illegally...something that I am IMMENSELY proud of admitting (I'm so thankful at how far they've gotten and what they've accomplished).
However, I suppose that I can only feel empathy for that side of my heritage seeing as I have been granted the gift of living here without fear of deportation. Yet, that does not keep me from shedding tears along with my mom when the news comes up with more stories about struggling, poverty, discrimination and utter helplessness that comes with living here illegally. Who wouldn't?
I do feel ashamed to say that although I've always wanted to be some sort of activist in getting the world to understand what it's like to risk everything for a country that supposedly offers everything, I've never known how or what to do. This is also because of a couple of reasons:

1. I don't know how to do this effectively
2. I'm not even sure where I stand
in my own beliefs when it comes to the question, "Should we be doing more to
keep them out of the country or be doing more to get them out?"

But now that the Dreaded-Arizona-Law is getting so much closer to us, I reflect on my race and what I think I should be feeling.
I feel dread, for sure. But also confused about why I feel dread. It's not going to affect me and my family...yet it will all the same. It seems to me like stopping someone for their appearance/race is discrimination joining forces with the law, don't you think?
And then I start thinking. And my thinking usually revolves around these kinds of thoughts:

Apparently there are people who think of illegal immigrants as an unwanted
infestation of roaches and ants. It's just a notch above being a Jew. Hmm. Maybe
they should just combine the two and get it over an done with?...Yes, yes.
Get it over and done with. Off to the gas chambers!....oh, wait! No, no,
don't send them to the gas chambers, we're above that. How about
just chaining them up and keeping them as dogs? Yes, that's the more
human thing to do.

Yeah. I have very dry/sarcastic/douche-baggy humor. I suck.

Sigh. Then again, I might not really know what I'm talking about. I'm terribly dense when it comes to these matters. I like to lay in wait until something happens and I'm finally sure about what I've decided.
Unfortunately that takes a while to happen. A while to understand. A while to decide on something.
At least I know one thing, though.

Next time I have poison ready to kill an infestation of bugs, Imma hesitate a bit.

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.