When I see you, I really see you upside down.

If you feel discouraged, and there's a lack of color here, please don't worry, lover. It's really bursting at the seams from absorbing everything - the spectrum's A to Z.

Now that I've finished my story, I suddenly can't write ANYTHING. I haven't even written a short story since, like, December. OR a song. I came up with a really nice melody on the guitar the other day, and I couldn't come up with any words. It's depressing.

AND, last night all night (or as much as I can remember, anyway) I dreamt that there were spiders everywhere in my room, and no matter how many my dad squished, there were always more springing up. One was descending from the ceiling towards my head (in the dream) when I woke up. Don't you hate those dreams where you're paralyzed? It's as bad as the dreams where you try to scream at something but you can't. Did you know that only 5 to 10 percent of adults have nightmares once a month? The others don't even HAVE nightmares. I guess I'm not an adult yet... I have at least one bad dream every night.

ps. Is it weird that I like windy gray miserable weather?

I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad.

I have such weird dreams.

Last night I dreamt that I woke up in the morning and realized that it was my French test that day, and I hadn't studied. The night before, a cartoon Kate and a cartoon Me were kidnapped by some foxes and held hostage in the Gutierrez's house, until I decided to escape on a beanbag chair by jumping out the window.

When I was little, I had reoccurring dreams that I was running up a spiral staircase, chasing someone and being chased by another someone.

Recently, my reoccurring dreams have to do with tsunamis and watching myself drown. In fact, Columbo (Peter Falk) was in one of those drowning dreams. We were trying to catch a murderer in this small town below a dam, and the wretched man (the murderer, not Columbo) let all the water out so the town was flooded and everyone died.

I certainly hope dreams aren't prophetic...

Iced tea.

I don't really have any interesting news to write about, but I figured I'd better write and say hello before anyone thought I'd become too obsessed with French to care. Actually that's not the case. I doubt anyone would think that, because I doubt I could ever become that obsessed with French. It IS a lovely language, and I do wish I could speak it fluently... however. Reality must be reckoned with.

I've been drinking the Suttle's iced tea all day. Mr. Suttle makes wonderful iced tea, because he uses buckets and buckets of sugar. Speaking of drinking. I've never felt effected by alcohol in my entire life (not that I DRINK drink, silly, but often with dinner my dad will give me a glass along with it, and for special occasions, and such.). But last night, when I got home for dinner, I hadn't eaten in 12 hours and I had a glass of red wine.... MAN. That is not a good idea, let me tell you. I don't get hyper when that happens, I just kind of crash and become dizzy and melancholy. Lesson learned: never have any (ANY) sort of alcoholic beverage when you haven't eaten a meal all day.

Now that that's off my chest.

Yesterday was a crazy day. I went to our church, of course, and then Laura and I dashed off to Camarillo for Amelia's baptism. I've never seen that kind of baptism before, actually. Our church does infant baptisms. I was proud of Amelia though. Her testimony was wonderful. And she's just so cute, we can't help but love her. ;) Then I went to the Mitchell's at 2 to watch "1776", which is the play we're doing this summer... not the most exciting thing in the world, but hey, a play's a play. They're fun.

Today I slept in until ridiculous hours, made wonderful pancakes, practiced guitar for ages, and went to my last guitar lesson. I liked lessons, but it IS nice to have one less thing on my plate for this semester.

OH, and I called Gabe from MHP (the camp I worked at last summer) and since I'm going to Prague, I can't work at MHP this summer... but. I do get to go and help out for a week or so, which is nice. I'd be kind of sad if I didn't go at all.

They're making dinner without me. Better go before I get assigned for cleanup. Ta.

Et vous verrez comme tout change...

Je ne sais pas combien de fois j'ai lu Le Petit Prince. Je le sais avant et en arrière, mais à chaque fois je le lit encore, je trouve quelque chose de nouveau. Et oui, chaque fois je le lit, je pleure. C'est incroyable comment un homme pouvait créer quelque chose de si beau. Je suis si triste quand je pense de la tristesse du narrateur, même si elle EST fictive. Il doit avoir vraiment senti comme ça. Parfois, je me sens comme ça, aussi. Ses pensées sont familiers; comme je l'ai pensé, moi-même, et je viens de les rappeler. Je souhaite Antoine était toujours ici; je pense nous pourrions être de très bons amis. S'il a tracé une image pour moi, je voudrais toujours savoir ce que c'était. S'il regarda les étoiles, je pourrais comprendre pourquoi il riait, ou pourquoi il a pleuré.

Voilà ce qu'est l'amour, n'est-ce pas?


ps. Je suis désolé pour tout le monde qui parle français, parce que j'ai probablement tué votre langue. Je continue à apprendre. Prends patience avec moi. Je vais aller mieux. :)

At the latter I was informal, at the former I wore my suit.

I am simply incandescently happy. Actually, more like jumping around the house singing "We are the champions" and barking at Alfie. When I stepped out of class today at 4, the feeling began: Spring break, I love you.

I've become a fan of a few different songs of late. They're not my normal style, but they make me really happy. Which, I suppose, makes them my style. "Alright" by Five For Fighting, and two songs by The Guggenheim Grotto, "I Think I Love You" and "Told you so." Then of course, "Short People" by Randy Newman is always a winner... though, I think my favorite happy smile song ever is "The Swimming Song" by Loudon Wainwright. Seriously. How can you not be happy when there are songs like that in the world?

Which, by the way, is a far cry from last night. For the story (which I am now editing) I decided to research suicide letters and see how people tend to phrase things, etc. Man. I would not recommend doing that...

There's this horrible little sparrow that's taken to terrorizing our cars. I thought it was cute the first time I saw it, sitting on the side of the windows and flapping its' wings at its' reflection in the side-mirror, but then it started leaving its crap all over our cars (mine included, and this is the main problem). Now it's not cute. Now I want to kick it. Whenever I come out to get in the car, there it sits, looking at me like, "Yes, what?" I chase it off and all it does is sit on the roof of the garage and wait for me to leave. Hateful thing.

In the back of my mind, I know that spring break is only one week and there's so much I need to accomplish in it... studying french, mostly, and teaching myself this last chapter before our text next Monday. But right now I don't care. I'll start worrying about that in a few days.

I feel like running miles, or baking something, or something crazy like that.

Good things.

- The way blankets feel when they've just come out of the dryer.
- The perfect cup of coffee.
- The Little Prince and how the end will always make me cry.
- The feeling of finishing a huge project that includes actual manual labor, like building something or tearing something apart.
- Yellow flowers.
- The quick flash of white reflecting off of a seagull's wings, when it flies just under the moon.
- Whistling.
- The Grasshopper and the Bell-Cricket
- Being far enough from city lights that you can see the stars.
- Having the right words at the right second.
- Hearing the right words at the right second.
- Playing a song perfectly.
- The feeling of having a baby fall asleep on you.
- The song "sister suffragette" from Mary Poppins.
- The hour building up to the sunrise.
- Clean socks.
- When you wake up and it's raining.
- Waltzing and talking.
- Finding something you've been looking for in a store for a cheap price.
- The smell of Christmas trees.
- Sitting next to someone whose shoulder you can lean your head on.
- Black and white photographs.
- Soft hands.
- Receiving a letter in the mail.
- A good laugh.
- Throwing popcorn at the person in front of you in the movie theater.
- This picture.

- Genuine compliments.
- That song that will always make you smile.
- Red telephone booths.
- Teaching a kid to fly a kite, and then running alongside them, cheering them on.
- Musicals.
- A quiet walk with an old friend.
- Randomly finding the perfect Bible passage for a given time.
- Licking the whisks that were used to make brownies or cake.
- Being able to think of the things that make you happy, when you need to feel happy.

Julie Andrews, je t'adore.

I decided last night to chill at home today and not go to school (not like I'm ditching a class - it's a lab class, which means ABOUT five hours a week... so I'm fine.). Then I lost my ride to piano lessons so I don't think I'll even step out of the house today. Which is a lovely thought. Although, I have lots of homework to do, especially for French, so I don't feel as lost tomorrow as I have the last week. But it's nice not to have to go anywhere... I'm drinking coffee, listening to songs from Mary Poppins, and only woke up like an hour ago. I feel incredibly lazy, but incredibly content. Sort of like a cat.

Okay. By the way. I never really used to watch tv much (that was always Mom and Kate with their detective shows) but now I've got a few that I watch, and they've got my undying loyalty. Castle is one of them, as well as The Mentalist. (They're essentially the same, and I think The Mentalist is better, but the girl in Castle is amazing. She makes me want to be a cop.) Dancing with the Stars, which I usually hate, is also now one of these shows. But this is really because of Evan Lysacek. Plus, the Russian dancer fellow is pretty spectacular... but yeah, the main reason is Evan.

I'll just say here and now, I will vote for the man regardless of whether or not he does well.

(People who do things like that, the biased people like me, drive me crazy. Gah. Morons.)

Hm, quoi d'autre? Whoa, I just found out that American Idol is asking Miley Cyrus to be a mentor? What is Simon doing? Things like this depress me. Miley Cyrus depresses me. I used to feel annoyed that she's so famous when she's only a bit older than I, but now I don't really care. I wouldn't be her if you paid me. Be in her PLACE, sure. But not be her. Enough of these rants. Funny how riled up people (yes, I'm included) get over things like this.

Man. Tout ce que je veux faire, c'est écrire. C'est dommage. You know what's REALLY too bad, I'm still a bit sick. Je suis malade et fatigué d'être malade et fatigué. Alright, Capitaine Français. Go call your teacher.

A Milestone

I have no idea how long I worked on it for, but I do know that it was in it's early stages in the winter of 2008. So at least a year and a half. As of last night, I finished it! 86 pages. Longest thing I've ever written. The only thing that came close was the story I titled after Eliot's The Hollow Men, which was 78 pages and about 4 or 5 thousand less words, but that was kind of crappy and basically "Red Eye" on a train. I have no idea if this one's any better, and I know that even if it IS, I'll be revising it for forever... but I don't care.

I FINISHED something. I finished 86 PAGES of something.

I feel amazing.

Like forgetting the words to your favorite song.

Do you ever feel like you don't know exactly who you are anymore? I don't mean an identity crisis, at least not the simple, general, overused kind. I mean when you've sort of stopped on your walk down the regular route for a minute and looked in a mirror, and found that your face doesn't look like yours anymore. In fact, you're not even sure how you got on that particular part of the sidewalk or even where it is. That's been happening to me recently. I keep pushing the feeling off and moving on, but it keeps coming back. I feel like I was more sure of myself when I was fourteen or fifteen - not that that was all that long ago, but still. I've realized that I've acquired a large amount of habits and personality traits that I never really would have wanted to find in myself. I don't know where they came from or how long I've had them, and the worst part is that generally I don't have a problem with them. I've always been good at justifying me to myself. I think I suddenly got a bit too good.

I've got no excuse to be so prone to depression as I am. Nobody likes depressed people; I don't even like depressed people. But there I am - whenever I'm alone, these gloomily insightful thoughts flock around me and I don't bother to shake them off, because I'd rather drive myself crazy with too many thoughts than force myself to feel something I don't.

I've found that I disregard people. Not everyone, but most. I guess some people can get along with all kinds or at least pretend to - I was never really that way, though, and I hate pretending with people almost more than I hate anything. If a person and I mutually dislike each other, I'd rather never see them again than pretend to be polite and chummy in public. I think most people probably feel that way, but I also think that most people can get past it. I can't seem to. I've realized that I have a close circle of people I love, and an even closer circle of people I respect. I realized, also, that I tend to completely look over the people who don't belong to either of these circles. Who gave me the right to be so full of myself? But then, just when I think that, I come back with a line about the worth of being superficial for the sake of being polite - and there I have me. I honestly think I'd rather be how I am now, than someone who claims to love everybody and wreaks of superficiality. What I want to know is, isn't there some middle-ground?

Hello, Peter.

I'm now writing to you from a brand new computer, appropriately titled Peter PC. As in the commercials you see with French people... but called Peter. It's more personal. I've been going around since yesterday saying, "Moi, je suis PC, et Windows Sept c'était mon idée."

I also have brand new glasses. Well, sort of. They're old frames but new lenses. And, a new case that looks like a watermelon. I look funny with glasses, I've always thought, even though these ones are pretty fashionable. The nice thing is that I only have to wear them when I'm doing up-close things, like reading or doing things on the computer. I had contacts and I liked them better - but apparently my vision isn't bad enough to merit contacts. Which is slightly depressing.

You know, there are weeds just outside my window that are taller than Alfie. For an ant, I imagine it's like walking in the Rockefeller Forest amongst the sequoias.

It's ridiculous how much homework I should have done already, and should be doing now. Actually, I've had far worse. Still, there's no excuse for my being on the internet right now. Aside from the fact that I'm hungry, and when I'm hungry I can't do school. I suppose I could eat. But then I wouldn't be able to write. Plus... I don't know that we have any food. I should look into that.

ps. Waking Ned Devine is still one of the most hilarious movies of all time. That song they play at the end is one of my favorites ever. There's something about Irish music. It just fills you up with this triumphant but sad feeling until you feel like you'll explode from it. I wonder if it just does that to people of Irish heritage?

How rabbits do travel.

My computer is suffering! I've been on Mom's for the past few days, because for a few weeks mine has been freezing up beyond assistance until it finally won't turn on at all. Which is bad - seeing as how I've kept everything I've written on there since I was eight years old. Yesterday, though, we managed to keep it alive just long enough to transfer my file to a flashdrive. Most of my stories (a few short ones aside) have been trash, but there's one I've been working on (on and off) over about three years. At 72 pages so far (and near the end, too), it's actually the longest thing I've ever written. So I'm glad it's safe.

Without writing to do, about the only thing I've been doing on the computer is playing solitaire. By the by, solitaire = horrible game. Addicting, deceptive, horrible game. I've played 118 games and only won 18. Do you know what that means? I've lost 100 times.

Sometimes I think I fail at things.

Along this rabbit trail, I got an 82% on my French Midterm. The one I starved and struggled and died over - not to mention studied for. I know an 82 is supposedly respectable, but I can't help being a little bummed - in two consecutive semesters, this is my first B. Granted, it DOES put me in the higher-grade half of the class.

But still... a B.

Amelia makes fun of me for being an over-achiever and a teacher's pet. I have to admit I am an over-achiever (the teacher's pet thing is strictly not my fault)... but it's not because I want to impress other people. I just can't stand thinking, "I wish I had done better." I stress me out. And this is difficult - if it were anyone else, I could just avoid them... but I don't think it's so easy to avoid your own psychotic self. Rats.

On a totally different rabbit trail that's not even on the same plot of land as that one...

I realized recently that I absolutely hate the phrase, "I'm considering liking so-and-so." Not only does it sound slightly snobby, but it's just downright silly. People keep trying to make things matter more than they do. Who says you have to come up with an answer right then and there? If you don't like so-and-so, don't consider. If you do, great, have at it and leave the rest of us alone.

Of course, this might just be a bitter statement from a girl with currently no interest in anyone. Which makes life quite dull, but nicely free from drama. And, it gives me a bit of a platform from which to mock others. Heh.

Can you believe it's 6:46? It's still light and I'm not even hungry. Ridiculous.

ps.

The other day I was writing an essay on Conrad's "Heart of Darkness", and I was aware that, as I was a bit feverish, I was probably making lots of grammatical errors. I asked mom to proof-read it, and when she caught one, I told her what I had meant and added, "I knew I made a lot of typos - but I thought I catched them all."

Good Lord.

On vampires, birthdays, and logarithms.

My mother is so strange. Not a member of my family is good at math, including her... and yet, when I come home from school confused and asking for help with logarithms and graphs and linear equations, SHE'S the one who gets excited - whether she ends up getting it right or not. It makes me strangely happy - there is always comfort in camaraderie - that is, unless she suddenly understands the concept that I've been struggling and dying over. Then I become bitter.

After a horrible murderous week last week, during which I lost (quite literally) an inch of my already-short-hair, I have done absolutely nothing in the last three days. (The hair loss, by the way, was actually due to a haircut I gave myself yesterday morning. It is a dangerous thing to cut one's own hair, when said hair is already as short as Audrey's Roman Holiday look... but it looks alright. Better than the job the women at Fantastic Sam's did, anyway, and this way it was free of $15 and a battle of the languages.) Anyway. I suppose I could have worked on school and various projects this weekend, to lessen my load for this next week so I don't have another horrible 5 days...

But no. I slept. Not only slept, but did completely useless things. Yesterday I googled "Where is Transylvania?" because I was curious (it's in Romania, by the way), and then of course I got wrapped up in researching vampires and their origins, which led me on a fascinating trip around eastern europe and several names I couldn't pronounce; also, in the 1400's there was a fellow called Vlad the Impaler and for good reason, because he's apparently famous for impaling (his favorite means of murder) somewhere between 40,000 and 100,000 people. Apparently, Bram Stoker's character Dracula seems to based off of him, however historically incorrect the writing was. AND, in a village in Transylvania whose name escapes me, within a decade there were like 20 people killed, allegedly, by vampires. This resulted in the bodies being exhumed, stabbed with stakes, decapitated and burned - when in fact, the strange state their bodies seemed to be in was all part of the normal cycle of decomposition.

Yes. My knowledge and I will be the biggest hit at the next party.

Also, I have 16 days left of French class. It doesn't end until mid-May, but it's only twice a week. There should be 17, but one class is on my birthday. I've already got SAT's on my birthday - I'm NOT going to SAT's and French. I do need to think of something to do after SAT's though, for my birthday... hm. The last two years have been James Dean pilgrimages, but I'm running out of places. Well, we'll work on it. In any case, midterms were last week, which means there is now LESS than half a semester to go. I am psyched.

I can't wait for summer. I can't wait for Prague. I can't wait for the feeling to sink in that I'm GOING to Prague.

Maybe I'll meet a vampire.

.... I really shouldn't say things like that when it's getting dark...

Eight hours.

THAT, my friends, is how long I have been awake as of noon today. It's been a lovely day but I'm a bit murdered after this week altogether. French test, math test, and French midterm in three consecutive days. That, and my throat is hurting almost as bad as before, and my ears too. I think at the beginning of this year, the health demons made a pact to keep me sick as often as possible. There's no other way to explain it. Mom's dragging me to the doctor again later today. Oy. Anyway - today.

I spent the night at Taylor's house because there was a scheme to get some people together (Taylor, Andrew, one of their friends and me) and go watch the sunrise today. I've never seen the sunrise, officially (watching it through a car window, or noticing the sky simply changing colors, doesn't count.). So we woke up at 4:25, and the four of us met at the pier at just before 5. I've been awake at that time before, obviously, but never walked about at it. It's unbelievably gorgeous at the beach when it's still pitch black. It reminded me of some paintings that I saw at the museum a few weeks ago; the moon was just a little sliver, but it made a sort of pathway of white streaks across the water, leading away towards the horizon line as far as you could see. The lamps on the pier were on and reflected in the water, but aside from that, everything was black. I love streetlamps - I love the concept of people lighting them, like they used to do before everything got smart and electronic. From the pier, the ocean looked oddly dark and milky. It's so quiet there, before anyone else is awake.

In particular, it made me think of a painting by Jean-Francois Millet, called The Sheepfold, Moonlight. About that painting, he said, "Oh, how I wish I could make those who see my work feel the splendors and terrors of the night! One ought to be able to make people hear the songs, the silences and murmurings of the air. They should feel the infinite." When I was at the museum, I stared at that painting for forever. There weren't sheep on the pier, obviously, but somehow it seemed just right.

When we walked back from the beach and finally managed to cross the street (there was a ridiculous train that took an eternity), we walked through town and towards the foothills. It was a long walk to the top (lots of twists and turns, though I prefer that to the shorter, and more cactus-infested way). Every once in a while we'd come to a curve on the road where you could look back and see the ocean and the city, with all its' empty roads and twinkling streetlamps. Somehow it made me get "Feed the birds" stuck in my head. The ocean was like a deep blue satin cloth, with just a few wrinkles that never seemed to go anywhere. When we finally reached the top of the hill, we sat on a brick platform and had been there, watching the sky slowly change colors, for about ten minutes when the sun popped up from behind the mountains. It's interesting that it takes so long to get there, but once it does, it happens quite quickly. Sunrises remind me of the last scene of "Rebel without a cause", which always makes me sort of sad. I don't know why everything that I see reminds me of a song or a book or a movie, but it almost always seems to.

By the by, I'm pretty sure it was colder up on that hill than it's ever been in Truckee, in all it's snowy glory. Maybe it's because I was only wearing a long-sleeved shirt and a light sweater. But it was about 40 degrees DOWN the hill, and ON the hill there was a ridiculous wind that seemed to lower the temperature about the same number of degrees. My bones are still thawing.

A little after 7 we headed back down, and Mom picked me up at the beach about an hour later. I've done pretty much nothing since then, except eat breakfast and win a few games of solitaire, and I'm pretty much wanting to go to sleep. I do have to read some Kafka, though, and then (joy) go to the doctors. I was supposed to go stay with Jon this weekend, but it didn't work out for him so I plan on simply sleeping the whole time. Which, at this point, sounds absolutely lovely.

Maybe if I age backwards?

I wonder how many people across America spend the day after the Oscars thinking about what they'd say for their acceptance speech. I was thinking about it this morning, as a matter of fact. Oddly enough the first thing that came to mind was when my mom told Papa that I was going to be in my second musical last summer, and he looked at her and said, "Y'know, ONE of your kids has to get a real job..."

As far as Oscars went, last night's was pretty awful. Not to mention slightly odd for me because I hadn't seen any of the movies (except Transformers 2 [which I regret], which was nominated for sound. Riveting.) I have to say the only funny part was Tina Fey and Robert Downey Jr. Of course, I think I just got spoiled after last year. I'm now pretty certain that no one, no host or joke or presentation, can beat Hugh Jackman's opening. I've had it stuck in my head all day, because after I finished watching last night (and before I started working on homework) I looked it up on youtube. I mean, look at this and tell me it's not incredible.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Terhj8mjPwY

(The reader! I haven't seen the reader!)

I need to find this man and marry him.

Fact:

1. When I was six years old (or so), I shook Wayne Gretzky's hand.

2. I have been drinking coffee since I was four.

3. The more homework I have to do (like today, for example), the longer I will do something else. (Like this, for example.)

4. When I'm home alone, I play the piano and sing opera for kicks.

5. Back in the summer (after performing in two musicals) when my voice was really warmed up, I could sing "Point of No Return" from Phantom of the Opera. And sing it relatively well, too.

6. In fact, Phantom of the Opera is my favorite musical (along with Singing in the Rain and Mary Poppins... strange mixture, I know.) and my ultimate dream is to perform in it someday as Christine. Of course, this will never happen, but it's a nice thought.

7. If I'm alone and reading a book (especially a boring one), I'll often read it out loud in creepy voices.

8. Also. I talk to myself out loud.

9. I'm not at all boy-crazy in the normal sense, but I'm willing to bet money that I've got more celebrity future-husbands than anyone. (These include: Marlon Brando, James Dean, Gregory Peck, Peter O'Toole, Lee Pace, Colin Firth in P&P, Cillian Murphy [yes, I'm aware of the creepiness], Gerard Butler in PTO, Paul Newman, Clark Gable in It Happened One Night, Hugh Jackman, Christian Bale, and Evan Lysacek.) And yes, I'm aware that many of these are dead or very very old. It complicates things greatly.

10. When I was young I wanted to be an astronaut and waitress, on the side.

11. Mostly, now I want to be a writer and an actress. The bummer is that to really make it big in either of those fields, you've got to commit to solely that. I suppose I could be both and settle for being mediocre, but that's boring.

12. I have an incredible memory when it comes to movies and books, but not when it comes to things people tell me.

13. I have a lot of inane fears, but the biggest one is definitely my fear of bugs. Spiders, mainly. I also fear lightening, jellyfish, and bicycles.

14. When I watch sports movies (which isn't often), I get upset and all angsty about how I need to work out more.

15. My first memory is telling my mom that I had corn stuck in my nose at the dinner table.

16. I have broken my left arm twice in my lifetime, sprained a toe (how lame is that?) and have cracked a rib or two. Also, I've slammed my hand in more doors than I can count. (This was especially awkward when I was having an argument and tried to slam the door in the person's face... and my hand got in the way.)

17. I once convinced someone that "Farewell to Arms" was about amputee victims.

18. I'm not a feminist according to today's standards, but in some circles I am considered as thus. And it makes me happy.

19. I get incredibly irritable when someone contradicts me and I know I'm right. The worst part is that I will fight to the death to prove that I'm right. This used to work out alright, until my best friend suddenly got just as bad as I am. We now take turns allowing each other to think they're right.

20. Speaking of friends, I've got the best one in the world.

21. I do quirky things when I'm alone, like making dinner and eating it by candlelight, and somehow I always end up depressing myself.

22. In my junior year I took kickboxing at the community college, and one day I was feeling particularly angsty. I punched the leather paddles for so long and so hard that my knuckles bled, and it made me feel like Rocky. It was wonderful.

23. I amuse myself, and I hate it, because I'll be sitting there in a boring situation listening to other people talk, and I think of something that completely cracks me up - and I can't stop laughing once I start.

24. I don't really like eggs, and I will not eat chicken off a bone.

25. I'm incredibly OCD, but only about certain things. My room being one of them. If so much as a picture frame is tilted the wrong way, I can't do anything else until it's right.

26. Accents = automatically amazing people.

27. I rarely delete voicemails. When I'm depressed and missing people, I listen through the messages to hear their voices.

28. Julie Andrews' voice makes me happier than anything.

29. Sometimes I'm caught completely offguard by beautiful things like the moon and stars. There aren't words to describe the feeling of standing in a secluded place away from city lights, and looking up.

30. One night on vacation, Kate and I went out on the snowy driveway with Jon and Dad, who let us smoke cigars with them. Jon got a picture of the us; while I'm concentrating on blowing smoke rings (or trying to), Kate is choking on smoke and looking remarkably like Bela Lugosi. How I do love my family.

Not that I'm bitter.

This evening I realized how hideously unfair life is. Did you know Emmy Rossum was 16 when she was in Phantom of the Opera? Something is wrong here. I'M 16, and I'VE never kissed Gerard Butler. All I can say is that the next few years have some serious making up to do...

On Prague and scarlet fever.

I love how suspicious everyone is in a doctor's waiting room. Yesterday morning I noticed some little red dots on my hands, arms and shoulders. Soon they were everywhere. Mom called the pharmacist and had her interview me about this evil sickness that hasn't gone away for weeks, and when all was said and done, the woman was determined that I might have scarlet fever and that I should get to a doctor as soon as possible. I had to go to school first, though, so I made my best effort to stay away from people. About the time the rash had spread to my face, Mom and I pulled in in front of the doctors. We walked into the crowded waiting room and - surprise - waited. I hate waiting rooms, they're almost as bad as hospitals themselves. Everyone looks incredibly grossed out about everyone else's problems. ("Ew, you're sick! *cough cough hack*") The woman sitting across from me kept looking me over and then looking away quickly, as if making eye contact with me would spread the rash.

Anyway, you'll be pleased to know (hopefully) that I do not have scarlet fever. As undramatic as it is, I'm apparently allergic to penicillin, which was in the antibiotics they gave me last week at the ER. So now I'm off of those, which means that my sore throat and ear infection came back. I'm a mess. As if feeling this sick wasn't bad enough, I now have a completely red and bumpy body to go along with it. They took some of my blood away to do some tests on it. And worst of all, when Mom took me to McDonalds afterwards to get a sundae, they weren't serving ice cream. I think somebody has it out for me.

In other news....

I got an email today. I was chosen to be on the team going to Prague! I'm so excited. Slightly worried, too, though, because I still have no idea where the money will come from. But I've been praying that, if I wouldn't be able to pay for it, that God wouldn't have them pick me this year. And they picked me. So that must mean that God's looking out for me. Guess I'll just have to see what I can do and wait on the rest.

Though I'm not going anywhere today (which is nice, because I look like a victim of chicken-pox) I still have a boat load of homework to do. Annnnd, I need to write letters asking people for money. Fun fun fun...