Bought XXX (a shitty Vin Diesel movie) because I heard that it had an extended version of the sex scene. Here I am picturing more naked Vin, but nooo it's just more of the girl stripping and dancing for him--great. Obviously, the DVD was made by a guy, and a heterosexual guy at that. A waste of $21.00. I just re-read what I wrote, how pathetic do I sound?: "bought XXX because I heard that it had an extended version of the sex scene." How sad.

School's going good--not to mention I'm officially on Spring Break. I'm doing pretty good in all my classes--as far as I know--and I'm actually enjoying learning for the first time in my life. Or maybe it's that for the first time I actually feel like I'm learning from school.

So, it's official, I'll be able to go to Paris for four days after my study abroad program in Madrid ends. I can't even begin to explain how excited I am. I'll be in Paris for four days all by myself! Get to see the real Moulin Rouge, the Eiffel Tower, all the art museums...etc. I'm really excited, for some reason, to be doing this all by myself. Just the idea of being in Paris alone...no friends, no family, nothing...is so exciting to me. I want to prove to myself that I'm capable of going to another country and surviving by myself. It's something I've never done before: being alone. And I'm oddly really excited about it.

This whole development in the Amy Smart case is making me really happy that I've chosen the career path that I have. I get to be a detective, without having to be a police officer, and get to be a writer--what I've always known I would be--at the same time! How perfect. It's just weird, I think I'm a journalist/reporter at heart. I always have 20 questions about why and how something happened, I'm always looking for the details. It may drive my family and friends crazy, but it'll make me damn good at my job. Not to mention I'm persistent and stubborn as hell when it comes to something I believe in. If the reporter life becomes too crazy and hectic I can always go into magazine writing (hopefully not to write a "How To" or beauty advice column!). When I'm older, I could always write for more serious publications, like Time, Newsweek...etc. I can make a difference in my own little way, whether it's exposing certain issues, uncovering important facts in a case, or writing opinion columns and getting my opinion out there. I'm just happy with my choice...

Last night I hung out with a new friend from school. So far she seems fairly cool. We share a plenitude of irrational paranoias that pretty much run our life. Ha, ha. She's a lot more girly than I am. (All I have to say is: her bed is p-i-n-k. Nothing but pink.) I'm just too used to hanging out with guys. I have to say though, she's a very intelligent person. It's not like she's a fluff brain at all. And it was kinda nice having a girl's night. We watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding, ate endless amounts of candy, drank some beers and took some shots. I ended up sleeping over on her miniature pink bed. I must say though, despite her girliness, she still found my obsession with cute Japanese stationary to be somewhat psychotic. Damnit! Only Meggy understands.

It was nice to have a life and actually do something with someone other than my boyfriend for once. I drove home real early (real early meaning 9 am for me), it was starting to become a beautiful day, the sun was out, I had the music blasting, sun roof open--despite the California cliche--I really felt alive for the first time in so long. And I don't know why, but I did. I got home, climbed in bed with my boyfriend, and felt so content. Then he woke up and we went out to breakfast. I was truly enjoying his presence, and I was acting so much more like myself. I don't know what it was...but shit, I'll enjoy it while it lasts.

Maybe it's that I'm finally making friends?

Whatever the fuck it is, doesn't matter. I feel happy for the first time in...forever. On top of having homework to do today non-stop. And, none of that matters. I just feel content.

I had to update, I got tired of coming to my webpage and seeing that negative, "I'm gonna kick your ass!" crap. Not that any of that isn't true. That guy did deserve to get his ass kicked--and I could have (yea, tough guy), but it's just depressing and no one (not even me) wants to read that.

I've decided that I'm going to try--try being the opperative word here--to transfer to CAL after my sophmore year. So basically my life from now on is going to consist of school. Not that I had a life before anyways. And shit, if I don't get in, I'll still have gotten more out of school than I would have otherwise...and I'll be all, you know, smart. Yeah.

I just finished Henry James' "Daisy Miller" and surprisingly, really liked it. I think I'm officially becoming a nerd. Not a dork, but a nerd. I'm actually starting to be passionate about literature. And I thought the day would never come. I was the person in high school that wrote essays on books that I'd never read and still somehow managed to get A's. Hopefully it won't work in reverse and now that I'm actually reading the books, I'll start getting F's.

Meggy's coming home in a week! Sushi for everyone! California Rolls, Unagi, Gyoza, Tempura, Rice! All the things I love in this world. Yes. Not to mention it'll be nice to see her and all.

Ok, time to go STUDY! (On a Friday night! Ooh yeah, I'm cool)

BLECK. I'm ready to kick someone's ass...

Went shopping, got spied on in the dressing room by this nasty fuck. Argh! Pissed the fuck out of me! What is wrong with people?! I wanted to kick his fucking ass. I'm in the dressing room --which consists of curtains on all four sides--and out of no where, in the reflection of the mirror I see this guy looking over at me through the gap between the curtain and the wall. It creeped me out but I figured it could have been a mistake, or that he might have just been checking if there was anyone in there (neither of which make sense anyway). So a minute later I see his little sneakers scooting over towards the wall and I'm like, "This fucker's gonna try it again." Sure enough, his little head pops over and as soon as he sees me he quickly moves away. By then it had become clear what he was doing so I was like, "Excuse me!" and he goes, "Oh, uh sorry," in this little pathetic voice and I go, "What are you doing?!" and he goes, "Trying on a jacket. I'm sorry, I'll take it outside." THE STORE ONLY CARRIES WOMEN'S CLOTHING.

This dude came in there with the purpose of spying on someone. Fuck, it grosses me out beyond belief that this filthy ass pathetic excuse for a human being peice of shit stood in the same vicinity of me. Did he think I was just going to be passive and not say anything? That he could just get away with it because I'd be too intimidated to say anything? He must have been fucking psychotic. How can someone do that, knowing that I can see them looking at me. It just felt so gross, disgusting and violating. Luckily, neither of the times did he catch me with my clothes off--probably why he tried it that second time--but I felt all violated. Like I was the target of some perversion. I want to kill people sometimes. There really are those nasty ass fuckers out there. It's easy to forget it, but there are more of them in the world than I'd like to admit. And he's at the better spectrum of it. Sometimes I just want to scream. He looked like a fucking rapist or something. Why do so many men think that they are entitled to touch you, leer at you, talk to you...etc.? Like what's up with random guys trying to start conversation with you, asking you personal ass shit like your dreams and goals in life, when you know they don't give a shit and are just trying to pick up on you?!

Meggy, I'm stealing your idea of writing out the things that I love because I'm having a hard time remembering anything...

My family, my boyfriend, my few close friends, falling asleep to the sound of rain, sushi (unagi, rock and roll, california roll), miso soup, edamame, gyoza (but I have to have Meggy pronounce it for me or else I get laughed at), cuddling, hugs (real hugs, not fake "I'm just doing this to be polite" ones), backrubs, footrubs, hand rubs, Disney Princess Gummy Snacks, Puppies!, nightime in the city, nightime in the city while it's raining (from the comfort of a car), depressive druggie novels, stupid movies that end happily (like How to Loose A Guy In 10 Days--I can't believe I just admitted that), being inspired, being admired for something real (my writing, talent, personality...etc.), those little red comments that teachers leave on something you spent forever writing that say things like, "brilliant" "amazing" "wonderful!," making perdy jewelry, laughing, making someone else laugh, being there for someone, someone else being there for me (esp. when you don't expect it), reading all these books for school that make me feel all scholarly and smart (feel being the key word), crying in front of someone and feeling surprisingly comfortable doing it, having someone else trust me enough to cry infront of me, feeling listened to (that's a big one), feeling cared for and special, connecting with people, meeting cool new people, growing up and liking who you are becoming, being a fucking girl, strong, intelligent, powerful yet sexy women, falling in love (not repeatedly, but just the true experience of it once is enough), falling asleep in my boyfriends arms in public with him stroking my face and hair (sorry, try not to gag. Like on BART, the bus...etc. after a play in the city, or early in the morning after staying up all night), Sex In The City Marathons!!!!, watching tv and eating microwaveable dinners with Meggy at my house (aw, I miss that!), getting letters from Meggy on painfully cute stationary, being retardedly myself with Margaret and talking about theories on life, people, issues in our lives...etc. (even though she hasn't talked to me in months, those have been some of my happiest times :( Ah well), my boyfriend telling me that I look like his favorite supermodel (even if he's totally exagerating), sleeping in!!!!, watching people do kind things, New York City I Love You!!!!(I think I was meant to live in NY.), New Mexico!!!!!!!, Indian Rock at nighttime with friends, watching my Dad groove on his skateboard with his kite listening to Rap/Pop, strangers smiling at you for no apparent reason, standing up for my beliefs, being respected for standing up for my beliefs, going out wearing the shitiest outfit with no makeup and not giving a SHIT what anyone thinks (along with my boyfriend that wears the same thing everday), driving by myself with some crazy upbeat dance music blasting, talking to myself, singing in my room for hours on end, dancing in my room for hours on end, those rare mornings where you wake up early and actually feel refreshed, happy and ready to conquer the day (let's hope for that tomorrow), being cozy, talking to my Mom about deep shit (so articulate sometimes!), being able to be gross around my boyfriend, passionate people (well, passionate about possitive things), people that aren't completely self-involved, nice people, compassionate people, funny people, sarcastic/cynical people, PMSing like crazy on my boyfriend and him being completely understanding and making me laugh about it, my boyfriend climbing into bed while I'm asleep and waking me up to tell me he loves me. And that's a good note to end on.

Wow, it's nice to remember some of the small things. Made me feel slightly better. Well I'm tired as hell, and it'll only be worse in the morning when I'm trying to stay awake in my classes. Bleh.

P.S. Thanks to Meggy for letting me steal her ideas!

Ha, it's official, I am the perfect girlfriend:

Well, I am alive, contrary to my lack of entries. Not that anyone minded much, or at all. Who knows, maybe there's someone out there that avidly reads this and checks my site everyday hoping for the update that will make their day complete. Actually I think that the only people that read this are my friends...and that's probably out of pitty.

I wanna do something with my life. Everyone says that, but I really mean it. I don't want to have a job that I just enjoy. I want a job that I love and that matters. That isn't just an insincere and meaningless way to waste time. I want to make a difference--but doesn't everyone? How many people actually do? How many of us, when we're young with no real obligations, say that we want to change the world and make a difference? And how many of us really pursue it in the end? I don't want to be another one of the millions that don't follow their dreams.

Maybe I'm young, naive, unrealistic and have a somewhat romanticized picture of what my life will be like and what I am capable of. Personally, I believe that I am here once. After this I'm dead, gone, never to have a second chance at anything. I don't want to waste it. I am absolutely terrified that I won't strive to reach my goals. (Damnit, why can't I be religious so that I believed I had a second chance? ha ha) I don't want to become lazy and settle for the norm. Isn't that what almost everyone does? And what's so wrong with that? Life is hard enough as it is, without trying to make a difference. I just don't think I can be happy living that life. I don't want to end up in some office filing papers going, "I should have done this...I should have strived for that..."

Well, I'm off to the bead store--for the hundredth time this week--to go buy this thingamajig which you can use to bend wire into nifty little patterns. Screw making a difference in the world! I'm going to make jewelry! Making jewelry has become my new pathetic money-draining hobby. My life is just so god damned exciting, I can't believe it sometimes!

By the way, if Meggy is reading this, I'd like to thank you for being a good friend lately. Some people are there for you...and others just aren't. You have been and I genuinely appreciate it.

Annnd The Picture of The Day is...

Happy Belated Valentine's Day! Mine was fabulous. For any bitter single people: I heard that 700,000 Americans spend the holiday alone each year...so you're not alone.

Picture of The Day:

I don't know if I should laugh or cry...

What can I say? The site needed some testosterone. So I stay up 'till 3 AM making my site look like some Vin Diesel fan page made by a drooling 13 year old. Well, hey, I'm happy now, so it's all good. The girls will be happy with the change. The guys won't be able to look without questioning their sexuality. My work here is done.

"When you loose something you used to have, you feel like you've lost yourself."

--quote from preview for random movie.