Frustratedly happy.

I don't think I've ever felt so happy in my seventeen years and some-odd months of existence. Source? Hah, who knows? There's so just many things- so many people that make me feel like I'm lying in an endless mound of fluffy snow. You could say it's the holiday spirit; you could also say I'm crazy. But at the end of the day, who gives a damn? This. This is what I enjoy the most. Not money, not driving (though that is a plus), not good grades, not failing tests, not gifts, not giving, but this. Friends. In a way, they're all like giant, glowing lights- stars, even- and I'm just a mirror. They shine bright, so do I. If one were to ever believe in magic, this would be it. Everyone- all their significance- each person's impact on another's life, vice versa, their dog, their cat, their pinkie toe- all muy importante. Impact, that's what it is. It's all relative. Sometimes you look at a person and you say: "Well, they're not important at all," but then you've gone and lied to yourself because you've said that thing and that's what makes them important. You think you'll forget people, their faces, the sound of their beating heart, but you can't. It's there. Engrained. Like a scratch in your cornea, as some people theorize. Every image. Every sound. It's a fingerprint. A footprint. A strand of DNA and a key to a lock. Unique. Existent.

Fiction. That's what I'm good at. So who's to say that this isn't fiction? Oh, what a tragedy that would be! If this were all a figment, but again, who gives a damn? The price is nothing; the result is everything.

Job hunting sucks. Especially when you live in Cerritos because some Chinese and Korean people really fail at handling themselves like professionals. Instead of a "Sorry, I don't believe any positions are available at the moment," you get a resounding, "Oh, no no no no, we not hiring right now. Go away." It's difficult like this. No money; just juggling whatever I get. I wish I could find a damn job already. My car's broken. Again. That'd be priority #8; fix my damn car or get a new one. Priorities 1-7? College. PS3. Laptop. Computer. Movies. Games. Food. Okay, yeah, I fail with money, but my entire family does, so bite me.

Sometimes you wish you had everything. Sometimes you wish you had nothing.

And now for a short rant on some phrases I think are stupid.

1) "The value of a dollar" is a dollar.
2) "A penny saved is a penny earned." No, a penny saved is one that I found on the ground that happened to be facing heads side up. Then and only then will I pick one up and throw it in the pile of "change that I will not touch until the day far in the future when I go to a CoinStar."
3) "Don't judge a book by its cover." The cover has the title on it, and if the title is "Wuthering Heights," I'm not buying the damn thing.
4) "The short end of the stick." or "The short end of the deal." One, I didn't know one end of a stick could be longer than the other. In fact, I didn't know that the end of a stick could be measured. I didn't know deals had ends either, for that matter, and if they did, they can be measured?
5) "Cleanliness is close to Godliness." So... if I take a shower, I'm kind of like Jesus?

Hyperbole. Blegh.

Hypocrites. (School policy rant included, free of charge.)

My mom's a real jerk sometimes. Not just to me, but to my FRIENDS. That's just jacked up. I deal with all of her idiotic friends that butt in on our Thanksgiving. Everytime I ask her to give someone else a ride, her first response is "NO." Like "NO!!!" Like "NO WHAT THE HELL SHUT UP WHY YOU WASTE GAS MONEY?!" It's silly. People always give me rides everywhere. I've been asked for rides for the majority of high school, for Christ's sake! And SHE complains about giving other people rides like once every two months? That's like complaining about there not being any ketchup when there's a bottle labeled "tomato sauce" on the table.

Except today I busted out the "Sarah's dad picked me up and took me to get a new bike when mine got crushed under the evil force of a giant black SUV." That shut her right up.

Hypocrites in general are ridiculous. And I don't mean hypocrites that know they're hypocrites and feel bad, because that makes them a lot less of a hypocrite. I mean hypocrites that do it and don't give a damn.

Peterson, for instance, is probably a blazing hypocrite. I bet she's happy in her quaint little office with her personal refridgerator snacking on celery sticks or Nutter Butters or whatever it is that people snack on these days. I bet she's happy when the other staff members present a cake to her on her birthday. It's not WE that matter to her, but how the school looks. The district must love a principal who enforces law in an otherwise liberal campus. It's not like we were engulfed in the chaos of a 16th century fiefdom. Student and administration conflicts were at an all-time low on all fronts, and the only overwhelming problem we had was a bunch of seagulls.

Don't you just hate people who think they're solving a problem when they're actually causing or furthering it? Then you tell them that they're making it worse, and they call you a rebel or naive or immature or whatever it is that we young'uns get called these days. There are always ways to resolve this issue. Let's review the facts:

1) Spread Alka Seltzer pills all over campus. Seagulls will be exploding in midair in no time and will be swept away in the winter rains. Easy as that. Okay, maybe a little gory... But fun, nonetheless.
2) Get clubs to clean up the campus. ASB seems to have no problem getting clubs to go to football games using club points. So why not campus cleaning? Key Club does it. Why can't everyone else? It's not that hard. I've done it.
3) Have SIAs do their jobs. This applies to the hall pass thing, too. If SIAs WATCHED people leave their trash on tables and all over campus, you'd think that they'd stop them or tell them to pick it the heck up. But no. They sit in their golf carts or in their office doing... nothing. Looking vigilant but in fact thinking about the programs they should watch when they go home. If you're going to hire new SIAs, you should probably use them. Get your money's worth.
4) If someone throws a cake and someone uninvolved gets owned, get the cake-thrower in trouble. Not us. If all isolated events were applied to an entire population, then America would live in holding cells wearing uniforms and having daily announcements from Our Great Leader telling us to Obey, obey, we must obey. We'd all be serial killers, rapists, burglars, larsons, felons, you get the picture. So apparently here we're all troublemakers, up-to-no-good, sinners, rebels, all that jazz. Well, I'll tell you what admin is. Unjust, unfair, overreacting, overreaching, and silly.

Positively silly.

Innocent until proven guilty, and not all of us are guilty. Punish those who have done wrong, and let those who have done naught be.

Washing, packing, packed, gone.

I'm going to miss Cerritos! I always claim that I don't get homesick, but this time, since not everyone will be with me, I'm supar sadz.

Thanks and love to Sarah and Melody for buying me the most bomb Christmas gift-in-preparation-for-the-frigid-trip-that-I-am-going-on-tomorrow ever. Now I'll only be REALLY cold instead of frozen on the ground like a hairy caveman in his loincloth.

I'll miss everyone, yes, everyone, especially Amy Chen. Wish you were coming with us so that I could hit on you and watch in delighted horror as you prance around your bedroom in underwear or a towel.

Still sick. Taking meds. Lots of 'em. Seems to be helping.

Love, love.

Ridiculosity.

Admin, thou hast gone too far!

Kay, agendas as hall passes? Stupid as that is, I don't even care that much. What really irks me is the whole "no birthdays" thing. I mean, really, you might as well cancel Christmas, New Year's, and Lincoln's birthday in the process. Cake is distracting. So are balloons. Well, no shit. So is a birthday. Do we no longer exist? Is the quintessential anniversary of our very being insignificant, not to be hallowed as it has been for the past umpteen years?

Nope.

Yes, we are no longer allowed to bring food to school anymore. Food is distracting. Eating in class is a mortal sin! So are pieces of rubber stretched out by internal force. Wait...

I won't go there. Really, I sometimes like to bring random confections to school as lunch, didn't you know that? I bake entire batches of brownies for a mid-day meal... of course, I eventually get full, so I hand out dozens of pieces to my friends and teachers. In plastic wrap. Individually. With ribbons and bows. Is there something wrong with that?

As for balloons, well, some balloons piss me off anyway. The really pretentious bunches of balloons that fly in everyone's faces no matter where you are and scream, "Hey, bitch, it's my birthday! Celebrate me." Those are stupid. Singing balloons are lame, too. Still, balloons are sometimes considered gifts in their very nature, or at least a part of a gift. *gasp* Are we not allowed to give gifts? Gifts are distracting. Shit. We should ban those, too. And they contribute to littering! All that gift wrap sucking up space in our trash cans... goodness gracious. Them seagulls must love shiny gift wrap.

Admin has turned into a mass of Puritans. The office might as well be a nunnery, and Peterson is Mother Superior. Or rather, Mother Superiority Complex. I've never seen anyone more power crazy than this. Behold! As CHS turns into a clump of silent, dismal hallways and equally as silent, dismal students. The days of celebration with cake and balloons and glory alike are gone, replaced by the docile nature of our implicit Vow of Silence. Old Celebration was a tall chap, his slightly crooked glasses perched atop the bridge of his nose as we shaved his head bald and then shipped him off to the War. How he enjoyed freedom, and how Freedom enjoyed him.

Someone can kiss my asymptote.

A Duet

I keep hearing strange things in my room when I'm on that rift between consciousness and sleep. I think there might be a ghost in here. *shrug* It's honestly kind of creepy, but I'm so tired by that time that I don't care. Then there's the dreams. Weird dreams, too. If I believed in God, I'd say that he or she is trying to tell me something. Then again, if I believed in God, I'd also be more likely to have voted for John McCain and for Prop 8, so... nah.

There's something that I really have to criticize today. Welfare, health care, the like. So I'm sitting in the car, discussing le recent situation con mi madre (see previous post), and she says, "I'm getting on MediCal soon. You should get a new pair of glasses; they're completely covered." And for a minute I consider and nod in affirmation, feeling that it'd be nice... until I realize that I have a pair sitting on the bridge of my nose, and they already feel so a part of me that I can hardly see without them. So I ask myself... "What the hell?" A new pair of glasses could cost 200 dollars, and that's if I'm being picky about the price. Why the hell would I get a new pair, regardless of who's paying for it? "It comes out of the tax money I've been paying for 20 years." Screw your tax money; you evaded paying it for three years of my life, remember?

That money wouldn't be coming from my mother's taxes for the past twenty years; it'd be coming out of every person in America's tax money for the past year. The past botched up year. The past year that she keeps complaining about when it really wasn't that damn bad for us. I don't care what she says. I don't care if the freakin' glasses are bloody covered. Those 200 dollars don't belong to me. They belong to somebody else. Somebody who needs it more. THIS is part of why America's in the hole right now. THIS is what people meant by taking advantage of insurance. I don't care how much the government rips us off; when we try to take back, we don't take from THEM, we take from someone else. Sure, that someone else might be taking advantage just the same, or they might not even need it, but even the most infinitesimal percentile of what you don't use goes somewhere good.

Goodness gracious.

My fellow blogger who has spurred me into this spree of blogging has me thinking again. About the past. About the present. About what could be different. The pain that I felt was derived from hope- the hope that things could be right again. I haven't felt that pain in six months, but it's here again like a hangnail.

I went to my happy place today, as I sometimes do when my brain is clouded in a mist of negativity. Allow me to describe it, in detail. More than often, I am laying somewhere- a beach or a meadow of tall grass. There's always a light breeze; the kind that I enjoy. Sun's out, but it's not hot at all. Today it was the meadow, and the grass was greener than it had ever been. The tree kept fading in and out, but that didn't matter. I wasn't alone this time, and I didn't suddenly imagine myself chasing after someone but getting nowhere. That was nice. I'd like to find a real place like that someday, where I could just lay about all day half-asleep, as I am when my personal version of Beloved comes creeping about.

Stupid ghost.