Debutante

PROM. Man. It was fun.

Fun. Fun.

Yo, Brian, I had fun. And thanks for the leg massage. And for the lap dance. And for letting me sit on your lap on the way home. And on the hot chocolate treat. And for carrying me on the city walk. And for the lovely corsage. And for making prom happen for me. I would’ve licked you up (out of gratitude) if you weren’t so sweaty. Haha.. jk.

This week’s been crazy. I’m already on my wit’s end, and it’s only Wednesday. Fudge.

Today was the Achievement Awards ceremony at my school. I was nominated, and I would’ve probably gotten an award only I chose not to show up. All those glitz and glamour of nerd-ness don’t appeal to me anymore, and it seems that it’ll be rather hypocritical for me to go since I’ve regressed to being a C-student.

Tsk.

They don’t count our current grades, so my weighted GPA (from the last sem) was still pretty decent. Like 4.0-decent. But now.. I’ll be lucky if I’ve salvaged my GPA to a 3.0, at least.

Shame on me.

My friends came over at my house so we could “study” for our precalc test tomorrow, and I found myself sitting there, staring blankly on the wall doing abso-fucking-lutely nada.

T and J were all busy solving out the problems and stuff, asking each other questions for the tangent/slope formula and derivative forms of an equation.

“How come I can’t seem to understand what you guys are talking about?” I asked blankly, “I’ve no idea.. at all.”

“Maybe because you aren’t doing anything?” said T.

“And you didn’t do the homework problems,” said J.

“Yeah.. Maybe,” I said. “I’m just done. DONE. As in, I’m DONE with school..”

Man. I need to study for that. But it’s kinda hard to focus when I have a gajillion stuff to worry about. We have a mock campaign thing in my government class - with Angelina Jolie as president. We have a stock exchange project for Economics. I have to do a presentation about phenylethylamine and oxytocin for Chemistry due on Friday. I have a piano recital next Tuesday. My senior speech is next week, too. And I have a student orientation thing on Wednesday next week.

AND prom is Saturday.

Fucking fuck.

Now that I’ve enumerated all of them, I feel more overwhelmed.

I need a breather. I’m no superwoman.

Yea, Pirates of the Caribbean was pretty forgettable. What’s not forgettable, though, is my future husband and father of my kids Orlando “Fucking Hot” Bloom.

Thanks to him, I managed to keep awake for the whole duration of the movie. Three hours aint no joke, man. The movie’s plot was all over the places and there was a big “what the fuck?!” bubble over my head most of the time.

Nevertheless my $10 admission was all worth it. Orlando Bloom can do no wrong.

NH had seen the movie last friday and has been telling people that the PotC kinda sucked.

“Yea? But my future husband is in that film,” I told him.

“Well, you better tell him to make better movies because he’ll be broke by the time you get married,” he said.

“Nah, it’s okay. We can survive with his good looks..”

All I need is rice. I don’t mind licking him off for breakfast.. for lunch.. for dinner..

Shiet, if Orlando Bloom’s food, I’d glaldly fat up myself with his goodness.

Every time he comes up in the movie, I can’t help but purr: “Oh my God. He is so fucking hot..” Well he is..

I used to have a poster of him on my wall, but we’ve moved way too many times I’ve lost it already.. Darn.

A couple of years back, I saw Kate Bosworth (his ex) in LA in one of the events I volunteered in. I wanted to go up to her and tell her to bugger off my man. Haha. *Evil laugh*

But since they’ve broken up.. and Orly’s a free man in the market once again.. maybe I could butt in already..

Yo, Orlando Bloom, marry me.

Two feats I’ve accomplished this weekend:

First, I’ve finally get to clean the pigsty I call my room. It’s been ages since I’ve fully cleaned my room.. and I realized how disgusting it was now that it’s nice and neat. Well, what can I expect, I share it with my very untidy, sloppy little sis (to say the least). I hauled out the dirty laundry. I think, all in all, I’ve washed six fucking batches of dirty clothes.. If you ask me where the hell those clothes came from, well, let’s just say that I’ve discovered other “closets,” dirty-clothes dumpsites, under my bed and in the corners of my room.

I am a slob, yea, but I blame it all on my sister. I’d ask her to clean up a bit and she’ll just give me attitude. She’s the most insensitive, most immune pig to my reverse psychologies.

“Paula, don’t you want our room to be clean? Doesn’t it bother you that everything’s all over the places?”

“Why, does it bother you?” she’d cunningly retort.

“Not really,” I’d bluff. “I couldn’t care less.. I’m just saying.. dont you get tired of all this mess?”

“Well, it doesn’t bother me. I don’t mind. You can clean it if you want though.”

Ugh.. Little sisters..

But hey, at least our room is clean now, and I’m happy.

Second, for the first time, I’ve filled up my car! Woot woot! I came up to the register at the gas station:

“Twenty bucks for number seven please,” I amicably said.

“Twenty-five?” the old man asked holding out the 5-dollar bills in the air. He must’ve miscounted the bills. For a second I wanted to con the old man and just say ‘yea, give me a 25′ but I believe in karma.. And I think I’ve been really [badly] karma-tized for the last 2 weeks.. so I told him I’ve only given him four five-dollar bills. Five times four.. yea, it only comes up to twenty. hehe..

He punches in the sale, and I stood there waiting for him to say something.

“Uhm.. is that it?” I asked.

“What do you say?”

“Is that it? Am I free to go? Sorry this is my first time filling my gas tank.. so do I just leave?”

English seemed to be the cashier’s second language, and he might not have been a big fan of small talks. So after giving him my sorry-to-embarrass-myself-in-front-of-you smile, I quickly exited the store whilst laughing to myself.

BUT the important thing is I’ve done it! And I’m not such a noobie anymore (as Edelyne put it). Haha..

But damn. Gas prices are no joke! I paid for my gas with my own money, and this CANNOT continue. Mom’s gotta reimburse me for it. I’ve no job. No extra income. I only rely on government welfare and I’ve got nothing to spare. Haha.. They’re the brutal truths.. (okay, not the government welfare part, but still!)

That song is stuck in my head.

“I lean like a cholo, side to side.. e-elbows up.. side to side..”

And I’ve been singing it out unconsciously all through out the day. Drove my classmates nuts. It’s so catchy. Though I think, subliminally, it has made me think I’ve got enough cred to sing such song in public. I mean, you know. Me, being a cholo — er, a chola. Haha..

Yeah yeah. People know I’m hardcore.. I’ve got my hoes, I shoot people up., I do drive-bys, I rap. I’m gangsta like that.

Hahaha..

But then right when I got home, right when I parked my Rain on the driveway, one of my aunties pulled over the street. She was practicing for her driver’s license exam tomorrow. Well, having passed my own driving test on my first try (despite the 15 mistakes) people have been asking me for tips (actually, only two have done so.. but hey, at least they turn to me. That’s enough of an ego-booster right there).

Anyway, so she was in her truck with her husband, and I stood on the sidewalk while I spelled out my expertise in driving — or at least anout faking it for the heck of passing — until these three guys, decked in over-sized shirts, baggy shorts, nike cortezes with knee-high white socks walked by.

“Oh shit! Real-life cholos!” I shrieked in my head.

And suddenly I had an urge to sing “I lean like a cholo, side to side.. e-elbows up.. side to side..” and imagined myself leaning onto them and the four of us leaning like true gangsters on the sidewalk. And then people will join us, and we’ll all sing “I lean like a cholo, side to side.. e-elbows up.. side to side..”

It was a funny thought. But I didn’t pursue it lest I get shanked.

And we know that getting shanked by cholos is not really on my priority list right now. Haha.

So I looked at the passers by, quickly averted my eyes, and pretended they were just ordinary people.

I was gonna greet them, and pull a “Hi, how are you guys doin?” like a good citizen as myself.

… but I think that’s pushing it a little too much.

I’ve been getting these weird and rather funny surveys from the school’s statistics class. The most interesting one asks:

Are you still a virgin?

If so, do you plan on losing your virginity after prom?

I sat there, looking at this sheet of paper and thinking if this was a joke. Maybe sex is not too tabooed in our society anymore, but for it to be blatantly implied in school is a little shocking. Of any other equally important or even more relevant things, why the virginity topic?

For 2 seconds, I was like What the fuck? (no pun intended)..

I quickly filled it in.. with big bold, all caps letters.

I would’ve torn my printed name on the top of the paper, so I’d be anonymous. But I didn’t.

I’ll stand firm to my answer. As petty as the survey was, I answered it honestly.

If you know me well enough, you shouldn’t even ask me what I wrote down

I am not a virgin. Maybe.

I am a virgin. Maybe.

Our limo financer backed out. Man. Another prom blow.

I try not to think about it too much, but it’s here, and everything seems to be falling apart.

I’m still sane, so you need not worry, Brian. You know, to make myself laugh, I tell myself: “You only need to be prettier than your date..” Haha. B, don’t beautify yourself too much, okay? Haha.. jk..
Anyways..

I’ve got my Chopin’s simplified Nocturne piece today.. I am such a procrastinator.. The recital is in about 2 weeks and I’ve given up on Barry Manilow’s syncopated Mandy. So I’m gonna try the classic piece and maybe it’ll be better.

Stupid Korean dramas.. Now, I can’t even do much else because freaking Youtube suspended all the Korean drama uploaders. Tsk. Fuck copyright infringement. What the hell.. Right when I’m so hooked and addicted, I can’t find the episodes anymore.

Omygaaa..

I need my kdrama fix.

Times like these, when I’m low on inspiration, I turn to Korean dramas to cheer me up.. Yeah, I figured it’s a less-fattening way of dealing with loneliness, instead of raiding Burger King every 2 hours..

Plus, prom is only 2 weeks away.. I’m fasting.

Patience is a virtue I could honestly say I haven’t mastered yet (nor have the patience itself to work on). I’m not a shameless impatient person.. I’m the kind who holds it in.. the kind who bottles everything up inside.. and the kind who goes schizophrenic after a while. I know, I know. It’s not healthy.. and I should learn how to healthily vent all my frustrations.

And so I resort to writing, a more painless and bloodless ordeal.

Anyway.. Today is a bad day for everything.

Let me count the ways….

I am being charged the out-of-country fee for college. One hundre-fucking-ninety-three dollars per unit. No, I don’t poop greenbacks, nor do my parents, I think. And so I had to establish my residency here.. So I had to drive down there this afternoon with all my legal papers, utility bills, a year-long record or my parents’ mortgage payments, the house papers, and my passport in tow.

By the way, I drove Rain today (MY new car)… And on the way to the student parking lot, there is this curve… and to make the long, painful story short, I hit the curb.. and that left a foot-long, half an inch wide scratch on the sideskirt of my new car.

I was close to tears when I saw the damage..

But then I had to compose myself because I had to talk to the admission lady and sort out my residency status. So I marched in the Admissions office and there were at least 15 people on the line. Just what I needed..

So I stayed on the line for a good 15-minute period - with all the while I was having bouts of anxiety attacks thinking about my car.. And then there came the good part.. I found out that I wasn’t supposed to go on that line.. that I was to go to the other side of the room. To my relief, there were only two people waiting on the window I was supposed to go into. So I waited.. 5 minutes became 10.. and 10 became 20 minutes.. and 20 minutes became 45 minutes.. and no person in the window showed up.

I was going nuts.. Made me think I might have schizophrenia tendencies because I was pissed and I was anxious.

I rang the little counter bell, and the guy who was waiting with me looked as if I made an offense.

“Well, that’s what it’s here for, right?” I remarked.

I guess he understood. We were both in the same line for the longest time without any assistance or assurance whatsoever. I was this close [–] to just saying fuck it.. but then a guy passed by and he was able to accommodate me.

And for this anomaly in the universe and because my day is apparently off to a bad start, I was not able to sort out my papers for the residency thing in the end of all the trouble.

So my sister and I drove home.. and to gratify what’s left of me, I headed to Burger King to get my depression medication. Nothing can do a better job than a hearty Whopper burger, some king-fries, and a tub of ice-cold coke in times like this.

Fuck prom. I dont care if I become a tub of lard by then..

… no not really.

My corolla ran out of gas yesterday and so because of my nouveau-driver status and my ignorance in filling up my own gas tank, I was forced to drive my mom’s beat up, unflattering car to school today. It’s a 2-door Ford Probe. It’s a coupe, alright — a coupe from the Medieval Times, that is. The seat belts don’t even work.. They were so loose, the belt strap was falling off my shoulder..

Man. I know I’m gonna have to use that from now on, because my dad doesn’t trust me (completely) with the new car yet so I’d have to endure driving this Ford Probe aptly named “Honey.” My mom named it. It’s weird, I know. My dad named his Honda Odyssey “Mossey.” We used to have a Nissan Quest, and his name was “Mikey.”

My Corolla’s name is “Rain.” My dad named it. Maybe because it’s like my name all jumbled up.. I actually find it cool. I love Rain — as in the Korean popstar. He’s one hot piece of Korean Bulgogi. What a yummy person.

Anyways.. back to the car issue.. I don’t think that Ford Probe should be let out in the streets anymore. I’m basing this from my own personal (objective) concerns. That car is so old it burns gas inefficiently, thus, it’s a hazard to the ozone, and I care about the ozone. Global warming? I actually wanted to become an environmental scientist before.. but was quickly discouraged by my dad (who incidentally works in the oil/ petroleum industry).

Well…
It shouldn’t really matter, right? At least I could drive and have a car to drive. Argh. Sometimes it pains me to take things for granted. I should be thankful, right? Oh I hate to touch upon this subject this late in the evening.. I don’t want to sit here typing away my sentiments all night. Haha..

And I need to wake up early tomorrow because I’ll be volunteering at the annual Revlon Run/ Walk for Breast Cancer in Los Angeles.. Yihee..