I am proud to admit that I am in love with taking three hour naps everyday after school, and wake up to the smell of the steaming rice. 

Anyway, today, instead of pressing my snooze button on my phone, I accidentally turned off my alarm.  So instead of waking up at 6:45 and taking the 7:15 (or is it 7:20) bus, I ended up waking up at 7:15 and taking the 7:30 bus.  Upon waking up and seeing that it was 7:15, the first word the came to me was, “shit.”  I actually said it out loud, starting my day off with a curse.  The day came out pretty nice, actually.  Who would’ve thunk.

After brushing my teeth, putting my face on (hey, today was my turn for taking the senior photo, alright?), grabbing my water bottle from my fridge, and forgetting to put on my watch, I managed to rush out JUST in time to jump on the bus.  Quite literally jump on, actually.  I even didn’t have time to grab the stupid AM New York thing while I was rushing there.  

Once I got on the bus, my feeling of relief started to fade as I realized that there was a strange odor in the bus.  Looking around for a while, I realized that this huge lady in front of me was the source of this strange and sour odor.  I was disgusted.  Beyond disgusted, actually.  I seriously tried to avoid her stench by sitting in various seats in the bus.  However, to my dismay, no matter where I sat on the bus, I just could not avoid her stench.  I had so wanted to hurl.  I think even the other people were disgusted, because I saw many of them (at least on my side) starting to open the windows.

Sadly, two stops later, the lady decided to come closer to me, sitting only (approximately) five feet away.  The stench was horrid.  I was trapped in the seat where the two windows met, and was thus devoid of fresh air that would come through the windows.  I tried not to breathe, but, well, oxygen is my friend.  

You have no idea how glad I was when she finally got off the bus.  Her stench lingered for a few minutes, but afterwards, it was all good.  

Moral of this bus ride: Good hygiene – seriously, it’s really important.

Oh!  And I almost forgot to mention: that lady was such a bum towrads her kids! When she moved to the back (where I was sitting to avoid her), she yelled at her two cute little kids, telling them to sit in the effing middle.  I’m 96-98% sure she cursed at them.  But I’m over 100% sure that she was yelling at them so loud, that I cringed.  

• I like ballroom dancing – but when my hand gets clammy, I get self-concious.  Also, the guys’ hands get hot, and thus the area on my back where the guy puts their right hand also gets hot.  And thus I start sweating.  And it’s the same song.  Over, and over, and over, and over again.  
• I sort of feel bad for not dancing with my stand partner today
• Sort of cut AP chem today… took senior photo instead 
• Should’ve cut orchestra too
• Life’s good 

OH, and money is such a huge concern for me right now.  So despite the fact that we’re in a huge debt from buying the new house and from renovating it (pretty much building the damned thing over again), they decided to go against my brothers and my decision to NOT work on the… hmm… parking space.  Jeez, there goes $3,000 something dollars.  It’s not like we can’t use it now – who needs to parking space to be sparkling new? As long as it holds a car, I think that it’ll be spanking okay.  So, I swear I will freak out and get so pissed off if my mom starts whining (well, complaining) to me about how we owe a lot of money from the bank, and how my dad’s worried.  Yo, we could’ve left the damn parking space be and have less troubles on our mind.  What kind of thinking is this: “We’re already renovating the place, so why not?”  MONEY! That’s why not! They should know better than me that money doesn’t grow out of trees.  My dad works, not me.  So why is it that I’m more worried about our financial standings than he is?  Ugh, stop asking me mom, just close my stupid bank account already.

Heh, lately I’ve been taking naps after school every single day (except yesterday).  See, instead of fretting over my not being able to concentrate while my grandma is watching TV, I just sleep and wake up to eat dinner, THEN do my homework.  This way, I can (somewhat) concentrate with a full stomach.  Smiles all around for my brilliant plan.

Lately, I’ve also been bringing a bottle of cold water to school every day.  I need to pee more often, but HEY! I’m hydrated and happy.  However, when my water runs out, I get a little disappointed.  Just a little.  Today I even resorted to filling up my bottle halfway with the school fountain water.  After filling it up, however, I was a whee bit concerned about how clean the fountain water actually was.  I had to make sure the water was clean by holding the bottle up to see if there were any things floating around before I could actually drink it.  Oh, the thrill of not knowing whether or not I will be poisoned by school fountain water is… thrilling.

SCRABBLE! Today would be the first day that I have officially played this game (as far as I can remember).  I’ve decided I love whispering like crazy in the first floor hidden hallway so that the teacher would not hear us and kick us out, gasping when realizing that I have a word worth 16 points (hey, it’s a lot for me, okay), complaining about how there are too many E’s in the bag, and being confused about how to spell words (assure has two S’s??).  Why, I officially declare 9th period as the Board Game Period.  Trust me, I have the authority.

Okay little piggy, time to study for economics!

            It’s going to be a long walk – a really long walk, actually, especially since I have no idea where I am headed.  All the years that I had attended this school, never had I once opted to walk home instead of taking the subway.  Despite knowing that my thighs might burn by the time I get home, despite knowing that my back might be drenched in sweat, I really needed to walk home this one time, and give myself some time to think things over.

            I remember that day that my teacher offered me that scholarship; letting me take private violin lessons in this music school that I had never heard of.  I was psyched, though, and oh-so-proud that she offered me this chance.  I was practically jumping up and down when my mom came to pick me up from school that day.  I had to keep quiet though, since I had promised my teacher that I would not tell other students about the scholarship.  Of course, when I got home that day after school, I could not wait to tell my mom about how smart I was. 

            The first time that I stepped into the music school, my heart was beating like a drum.  The tiled floor, the soft yellow walls, the brochures pinned up on the announcement board in the waiting room – did I really belong here?  When the time came for me to go to my first class, I walked up the stairs to the third floor as slowly as possible.  Posters of old music events were framed and hung up on every landing, everything seemed so professional – was I really going to take classes here? 

            I remember knocking on the dark wooden door – room 36 – and I remember my teacher opening the two doors to the room and greeting me with a smile.  The room was small – an old piano on one side, a mirror on the other, and a stand right in front of the mirror.  Almost immediately after my teacher finished tuning the violin that I had borrowed from the school, we started to work.  She gave me a new piece to work on, a waltz, and upon seeing it, I began to worry.  All these eighth-notes and sixteenth-notes, just who could play that fast?  And such high notes!  For the next few weeks, we worked on this piece over and over again, and I was trying desperately to learn how to play it.  Despite everything however, I just could not seem to play it the way my teacher wanted.  Perhaps I really did not belong there. 

            One day, twenty minutes into the lesson, my teacher played this piece on her violin and told me to envision something while she played.  She told me to play this piece while imagining the one thing that this waltz made me think of.  Baby-blue – that soft tinge of blue that the sky shows when it’s not crying – that was the one and only thing that popped up in my mind.  Hesitantly, I picked up my bow, and started to play, letting the notes, letting my heart, pour out.  After I finished, my teacher was smiling and praising me.  Well, I guess imagination really does help.

            Still trying to find my way home, my eyes still red from crying earlier on, I decided that I shouldn’t give up.  Maybe it will take me a lot more time to learn this technique, maybe this wouldn’t be the last time I would cry over my failure to play the notes that certain way, but this sure isn’t the first time that I am frustrated with class.  Despite the fact that my shoulders ache from walking for so long while carrying around this somewhat heavy violin case, I will not put it down in the middle of the streets and just walk away.  For literally half my life, I have been carrying around a violin, playing music on it, proud to own it, frustrated while learning it, and I do not plan on giving it up ever; or at least right now.  Even if people doubt that I belong in that school, I will try my best to prove that I really do belong there.

*Andante – a musical term for “at a walking pace”

Right, but anyway, here’s the entry that I will one day read again and start to feel like horrible about:

I don’t know why it bugs me so much, it actually shouldn’t, but it really really does.  Everything about her bugs me.  Every little thing.  I’m quite sure I’ve told multiple people that I don’t really want to be her friend anymore, and I really do rant to a lot of people about her (three in total), but they all seem to defend her.  

I don’t like how she’s obsessed with so many things.  I mean, I’m really glad that she loves track, practically everything on her facebook information is “racewalking,” but why the hell does she change every so often?  I actually get so annoyed when I hear her say “I hate track.”  Hate is a strong word… don’t use it so lightly.  Hypocritical little me uses that phrase every so often, but really, I do chastise myself for it afterwards.  I try to cheer her up and stuff, but I don’t think I’m going to do it anymore if she tells me that she hates track again.

I hate how she says that she loves math, though.  Honestly, in this context, I do not think that the word “hate” is misused.  I swear, if I hear her profess her love for math one more time, I will run away from her.  And I will run like the wind.  Loving math is okay, I mean, I think I love math too.  If I didn’t, I probably wouldn’t have taken all those stupid AP classes and now this dumb elective.  But math makes me cry – literally.  I remember these two times (sophmore year and junior year) when I seriously started to weep when I couldn’t solve these simple math problems that my classmates made seem so easy.  Thank goodness my mom didn’t see me, or else she would’ve probably sent me to the asylum/doctor/put me out of my misery.  Heh… it’s a love hate relationship.  But the main reason why I think that my blood surges every single time she tells me that she loves math is that I get this feeling that she’s being snobbish and selfish.  Problems that I find challenging and confusing she finds fun?  I don’t get it, is she trying to rub it in my face?  I ask her to stop, but why doesn’t she??

Oh, and how she sometimes criticizes my friends in front of my face, that really really bugs me.  They’re my friends – what makes you think that your criticizing them in front of my face is okay with me?  I’m loyal to my friends, you know?  I do get angry when people talk about them negatively.  

And how she changes her mind so often!  She could act so passionate one second, then so nonchalant the next.  So was that passion she felt earlier fake?  I don’t mind arguing with people over different opinions, but I really do hate it when they are trying to back up something they don’t really believe in, or people who just give up on their thoughts just because they find it too tiring to care/argue.  

I hate how she used to criticize Christians.  What’s so bad about believing?  If I could, I would love to believe.  Damn it, why does she put such a huge grudge against the crusades in the past?  Okay, so maybe the Christians caused many to lose their lives in the past, because they believed too much, but wasn’t it because they were mislead?  Just because you believe in God doesn’t mean that you will one day set out to kill thousands of people because they have different beliefs.  How come I don’t see you holding a grudge against Germans for the holocaust or Americans for… being American?  It was extremely disrespectful of you when you said that God didn’t exist or Christians suck that time we passed by the Seekers meeting.  Really, I was apalled… I didn’t think that even you would do something like that.  Honestly, at that moment, I wanted to slap you.  For my friends who are Christian, for so many members of my family that believe in Jesus, for everyone in the world who has the heart to believe in God.  

I dislike so many of her friends – they act so high and mighty.  They intimidate me.  A lot. I have a feeling that if they were to ever find out about my grades, the would be shocked at how low they are (hey, I’m happy about them, alright? And that’s sort of all that matters).  And when I worked with them in class (they had no idea who I was), they ignored me.  Even when I tried to talk.  High and mighty bitches.  

Why does she curse so much?  Just out of nowhere, the slew of curses just flow out of her mouth.  Maybe I’m just super sensitive, but I really hate it when people curse in front of kids.  Children nowadays are just horrid, at least most of them.  Do their parents not teach them any manners?  Seriously, she doesn’t need to curse in front of them the add to the bad influence that the world has to offer.  And dissing me in Chinese too? Okay first off – your Chinese sucks.  I’m sorry, but, seriously, get your accent straight.  It’s not a Taishanese accent – I would know, I had to interact with so many Taishanese people over the summer.  And why do you know all these bad  words?  Why do you have to teach them to other people? Knowing how to call other people “fucker” in Chinese is nothing to be proud of.  And I do feel highly offended when you speak to me like that.  Really highly offended.  

Also, it bugs the living hell out of me how you worry your mom so much.  If you’re going out for dinner, you should honestly let her know – not scare the crap out of her when she comes back from work to find the house empty.  You’re all grown up now, yes, I understand that, but that doesn’t mean that you’re free to worry the heck out of your family members.  It’s a little something called manners – you really have to learn it.  It helps you in society, it helps you in the future.  Even if your mom will yell at you a little, and complain about how you’re never home, you should let her know. I don’t blame her for yelling at you. If I was in her place, I’d smack you.

Grades… ugh, I don’t even want to think about it.  She had Francis for English yet she was upset over a B+/-.  Yes, of course whining about how it ruined your “A” streak will not make us normal people feel horribly stupid, worthless, and angry.  Of course.  Of course we didn’t try as hard as you.  Of course we didn’t put as much heart into it as you.  Of course we weren’t as serious about it as much as you.  Of course we didn’t spend hours upon hours writing the damned thing.  Of course we didn’t worry about it, lose sleep over it, freak out about it when our printers ran out of ink.  Of course you’re the only one who worked so hard and deserved a good grade.  Of course.  I swear, if i were to ever slit my wrists over my grades, you would be the main reason.  The only reason. 

Those last few sentences sounded extremely emo.  Hah, I swear, I’m really actually a really happy kid.