I'm not made of euphoria.
Tuesday, 05/14/02 - 3:19 pm.

I'm going to pass language/lit class this month with...10. +A. 100. Whatever you call it. I'm one of four people (out of 54) who had the outstanding, almighty, worshipped, unreachable 10. Clap, clap clap, I know. But on the other hand, I failed math with 5. Booing, I know.

Girls Of Summer has officially hit the airwaves all over the country. Unfortunately, not *my* country, so I'll have to wait. Truth is, North America says it's cool. BUT...it could've been mistaken as a Steven Tyler solo project. And that's just wrong.

*UPDATE*: I downloaded it. Pretty cute, to say the least.

I'm sick and tired of hearing about the drug years and rehab too.. I can't imagine what it's like for them.

Yeah, leave Aerosmith alone. We all know the story. But still....I want a movie based on their story.

When I arrived at school, I had to walk between Veronica and Carmen...one ignored me and the other one said hi. And on my way to the computers room it happened the same, but I just ignored them. I'm really not in the mood for treating them in any other way.

Cel told me that she and Art had gotten to the conclusion that I "have presence". you're impossible to be missed by the eye. I told her that it was nothing further from reality. Well, at least to us then. We always notice when you're around, it's like you have something to draw our attention. Oh, cool. It must be the hair. But fuck, wasn't that so damned sweet.

Hector (the Senior High principal) sat with me on the floor during second recess.
- So, what are you up to? (...) are you going to the trip?
- Nnnnn-no. I decided I'll stay home and draw.
- Stay home...and draw?

Yeah, ok, it was a lame answer ("lame"...I hadn't used that word in ages), but I didn't want to tell him the truth. But eventually, he give me confidence.
- No, it's just that...I won't have anyone to be with. I mean, look at me...I'm all by myself on every recess, let alone in a place like that one...why go to that place and be the same way?
- But the enviroment it's different. You fuck around with the crowd, have a good time with them...
- I know, I know, but I....I don't "fuck around". I'm not made of euphoria. I can't do that.

Blah, blah, blah, you get the point. He said he'd love to see me go to that trip. I'd love to see me go, too. If I went with other kind of people.

He stared at me, very serious. I suppose he thought I had some major teenage depression and I'm socially challenged. I told him I was...but hey, don't look at me that way, I lead a happy life. I thought he'd laugh and see the light side of my situation (he's just the kind of person who sees the good side of everything), but he didn't. He seemed to believe me, but didn't show. He ended up smiling when the conversation was over though.
- Oh, don't worry, I'll be ok...I just happen to have a freaky life.
- No, it's not freaky...just different.

I didn't have time to tell him that it's the same.

I do appreciate his concern. He even almost offered to pay for my ticket, if I wasn't going because of money issues. I believe people (teachers) are starting to notice that lonely, quiet girl that sits all by herself on every recess, staring at the palm tress between the Senior hall and the library hall.

I'm actually staring at the birds, people. Give me some credit.

When I went down to the cafeteria, the guy was putting his shirt back on after playing BKB (I know that drill). I saw him, but I didn't think he'd see me. Heck, he did, stared at me (yeah, ok, I acted as if I hadn't seen him), whistled to me, and smiled while buttoning his shirt. I smiled back. Ok, I have no point on this. It's just that it made me happy. It's what Simeon calls nasal dripping happiness.

My obese girl was supposed to be here, remember? But as things turn out, her parents are sick. I mean, they have Parental Paranoia, in a much higher degree than my parental units. And that's sad. At least my parents will let me study what I want (have I told you she cries *everyday*? she wants to study graphic design, but everyone in her family said "no, you won't. We won't pay for that. Period.").

I want a genetically-altered spider to bite me.

Last night I wished I had a gun. I came up with the fantasy of pulling out a gun in that walkway, the intersection between Senior and Junior hall and library/labs hall, and shoot the floor to call everybody's attention. Then I'd aim to anyone and I'd sing my favorite part of Janie's Got A Gun (she had to take him down easy, and put a bullet in his brain...), and then laugh and say: "run away from the pain" and shoot myself on the forehead.

What a twisted joke.

I'd never do that. But I was pissed off and I couldn't help thinking about it. People would never believe if I did such thing, they'd be in shock. People still think I'm such a nice girl and I can't even say a bad word. Damn you, scumbag, I fuckin' can.

(Dad, out of nothing, just asked me if I want to go out to the Temple of Capitalism and buy something. Wheeee, my self-imprisonment has paid off. But I'm too lazy to go out. It's too hot. And in this moment in particular, I can't stand the heat of human crowds.)

Yes, I was pissed off (so irritated) because like I said, sometimes buried thoughts come back and haunt you. And this time, I was possessed and obsessed. Hey, it was last night's hobby. I had not much to do.

I'm made out of differences.

prev / next