Wednesday is officially my favorite day... that's tentative of course.

The feeling of this specific Wednesday was not an average day.  In fact, I felt so confident that after watching Glee, I felt like it was the zenith of my life where I could do everything, except belting out ridiculous notes (reality gave me a check on that one).

I'm starting to like Wednesdays because of the perfect balance of a brain rotting opportunity while getting my supposedly sufficient amount of education, as I have class for at least five hours, and then an amazing TV lineup, at least to my standards, of Jeopardy, America's Next Top Model, and Glee.

Also, for some reason, this TV lineup makes me very maudlin.

For instance, I feel very smart playing Jeopardy, I'm overly excited when Brittany wins elimination challenges, I feel like singing "Alone" (which I love, by the way), and a mixture of those emotions (sans singing) when watching Top Chef.

Overall, as much as I hate to begin my shifts at 7 in the morning with four hours of prep (four! too much!), it's definitely a great way to end a day knowing that my eyes are about to sink faster than the Titanic, and yes once again, that odd confidence that I can belt out "Alone" to that one girl.

Ahem, ahem.

Usually, holy shit moments are life changing and all that.  Some, however are like hidden gems, except it's of the opposite effect where you say Holy Shit because something holyshitty bad just happened to you. 

A perfect example of a good "Holy Shit" moment is when Ashley Merriman, Top Chef competitor is cooking for Joel Robuchon.  I don't blame her for it since the man is the Chef of the Century after all, and that he's eating her food.

On the other hand, my holy shit moments are nothing equivalent to meeting Robuchon, or even close to a Top Chef competitor.  For instance, I just realized that the hundred dollars haven't gone yet from my bank account for my Intern payment.  This HS moment now puts me in a very unbalanced position between sleepy, motivated to do homework, cranky, worried and all of those other emotions in between.

It's only 10 in the evening, and I'm freaking tired from everything, then all of a sudden one of my friends tells me that she should be studying for her math midterm and "toodles".  Reminds me of my first math test this friday to which I still have to finish the homework for, but have no motivation for it - Great, another holy shit moment.

Anyways, I'm going to end this blog on this note and follow Phil Hellmuth's new poker game advice:  Go with my gut instinct, and go for everything hard.  Sleeping would be a paradoxical way to do it, but it should get me more buzzed than the energizer bunny by tomorrow.

Why do hotdogs come in packages of ten, while hotdog buns come in packages of eight?

This question comes to mind when it comes to today/tonight.

Today, I had my birthday bonfire and I started the day off by waking up at 7:35 in the morning, getting ready.  I woke up, took a shower and when I started packing up stuff in the truck, I slipped in fell in the nasty gunk that was on the stairs from the day before.  My ass hurt, put the first stuff in the truck, and punched my bag in pure frustration.  I solved my problem by getting the gate remote off my mom's car and that solved the problem.

After packing up, my cousin/brother and I went to Carls Jr.  Shades of Youth and Government trips are here when I'd go  to Carl's Jr. and get my usual: Chicken Sandwich, Curly Fries and Onion rings, plus a breakfast sandwich for him.  We stuffed ourselves and on the way to Dockweiler, I had no umbrella.  But when we got there, a guy was selling umbrellas and I gladly took one despite it's flimsiness during the windy period for a least three hours where I had to barricade it with firewood, cooler and a 24-case of water.

For at least six hours, I managed to finish Kitchen Confidential (a book I'm reading for English class for "Pleasure reading" - as my professor says) and get food in return for a few packets of salt.  I guess that a few acts of kindness goes a long way, and it's one of the many reasons why I want to be in the industry, but then that's another blog and another different story.

Some people then came, we talked, had a great time, and another party of too many to count came over, whose father asked if I could share a pit with them in return for firewood (which I needed, because I was foolish enough to think that I would last the whole night with only three bags of wood).  I accepted, and once again I got something back for this random act of kindness:  My successor (D-Man Jr., as I now call him) finally experienced the thrill of setting marshmallows for the first time over an open flame, and to see his culinary boner form was just a sight to behold (Again, no homo.).  Another reward I, or we got for this was dinner theatre:  a seemingly schizophrenic chick who refuses to drink water because she claims that her mother will pick her up and she'll find out that this schizo chick is drunk and that she'll never get to college.  Also in this dinner theatre was another drunk chick who you would say to "You should have seen yourself last night" for plopping on the floor after a simple nudge, and hanging on to people by hugging them so that she wouldn't fall in the sand repeatedly.  As for the final piece of this theatre, there was this one girl who I don't know whether she was drunk or not, but she walked around with her bra on.  To be completely honest as a human being, I would have loved to see someone strip the bra off of her to give the dinner theatre more value than it should.  After all, getting wood wasn't good enough.  It just wasn't.

Two more people came at the near end of the night, and the hour just passed by too quickly as we swapped stories about Westchester and the trash that happened around it, and the scum that stayed there.  Needless to say, as much as I enjoyed their company, I enjoyed their gifts as well.  Though I have yet to remind myself to find about a book about aphrodisiacs.  I guess that's as close to an erotic chef's book as you can get.

The classic answer to the hotdog question above is that "No matter what happens, you always get a hotdog".  Think about it, Ladies and Gents.  I would rather much eat a hotdog rather than a hotdog bun since it is more savory, and I'll be damned if a bum ever preferred to eat a hotdog bun rather than a hotdog.  My point of this message is that I'm thankful for the people who came and made this a good, if not a great night and thatI'm fine with my friends who couldn't go because of certain reasons, which I totally understand.  I have nothing against these people, and I am assuring you, dear reader, that our friendship is still in tact and you're still on the VIP list for Eversoul one of these days. 

And just for a note about hotdogs: Always get Hebrew National.  They didn't pay me to endorse them, but I trust these Hebrew National people despite Hassan telling me to not trust the Jews, that their hotdogs are 100 percent kosher beef.  Put it in a skewer over a fire, on a bun and some good Dijon mustard (I mean, some quality brand Dijon mustard) and some relish and have a meal that should satisfy you for two, if not four hours.

To end this whole thing, note to self: Put Hotdogs on Fridge.

I always felt that there's nothing secure in life.

It feels great to acquire something that's great - in my case, fifty thousand dollars to go to New York in the best, and I emphasize once again, THE BEST culinary school out there.  However, since it is of great value, the cost of its protection or maintenance is really high as well, as I can't screw up in school (3.0 or higher), and deal with an internship here.

As much as I hate to admit it, I've always lived the life of an athlete -  fine, I'm a big guy who's played three sports and somewhat adept at them that I have the ability to name some, if not all teams in any sport of your choice. (minus rugby, soccer, or "football").  I also have the ability to coach in these sports, and play at least three or four of them if I was given the position that I desired.

I've always read these stories of how they became great success stories where some came out of poverty, overcoming adversity, resilience, and for overcoming that kind of struggle, they were rewarded greatly for hard work, perspiration and passion.

But there's always another side to the story:  There are athletes who are out there and take their talent for granted, and it goes to waste, because they don't have what those "success stories" had.  There is some speculation that the people in these side are those rich folks where daddy taught them basketball and sent them to basketball camps and suddenly became great. 

To be completely honest, being a non-believer in a solid reason has hindered me from doing things that I really want to do.

For instance, to be really honest, I really couldn't find any words to say when the CIA essay asked me for what got me in the food industry.  If I said that I watched Top Chef's series premiere on a bored night as an underachieving high school sophomore, it doesn't put off a great impression as these people in the CIA would kill for those who are more passionate than I am.

It's as if that day, I was questioning who I really am and what I could have done now.  My friends are gone to UC's, out of state colleges, struggling in physics or paying for bullshit classes or seminars like Oceanology, and reality's starting to hit me only in this moment (since I know this feeling would be gone after I purge everything out).

At the end of the day, I really don't want my life to change.  I've met good people along the way, and as much as I don't have the Anthony Bourdain material (which I happen to love reading) for the CIA to read, there's a rhyme for every reason.  At the end of the day, as far as my friends are ahead of their college expereinces, I'll catch up to them.

"Describing Degrassi"

I love imagining how things would happen.

I remember blogging about imagining myself on of my dream nights, just eating cheetos and drinking coke while enjoying the ocean breeze until 10 at Dockweiler, since that's when the party ends, I suppose.

This recent thought will be somewhere along the lines of "describing Degrassi" according to Brandon.  Definitely not my intention to piss him off, but it's just a good, if not perfect way to describe it.

I always think about me and the person I like just walking down a straight line, whether it be a forest trail, down by the beach, a grass knoll, or somewhere silent and beautiful that we can talk in a whisper and it still would sound as if we were talking on our normal speaking voice (Youth and Governmentish much?).

I'm imagining that this person and I are just walking and having a good conversation around this silent and beautiful place, and suddenly, I just tell her that I like her, hoping it doesn't turn awkward. 

I don't really know how this thought of an episode ends as to whether or not it goes in the right direction.  There's three ways I could see this ending:  One, she feels the same way about me and we feel good about it.  Two, I feel good about telling her, but she doesn't feel the same way, but I still feel good for knowing it, or three, it goes sour to the point where the friendship rips apart and everything else is gone out into thin air and out of nowhere.  And if there was anything else, then I wouldn't be surprised by it either.

These past few days have been emotionally draining for me.

Yesterday was probably my worst service yet. 

There were super weird tickets, where the runner (who's slowly gradually becoming a good buddy of mine) reads a ticket wrong, a waiter goes in my station, and the lack of communication.  The lack of communication part really frustrates me, since I've already accepted the fact that most of them speak Spanish and I'm very inept at it.  Although I am very frustrated about it, I don't really care if you have a problem and disguise it with something else, but if it concerns me and my station, I don't want asking anyone for a translation of what just happened.  That ruins me, and if I really don't know what's going on then my progress is either stunted or will start going on a downward trend.

I also had thoughts that day that I was God's laughingstock and the reason of him keeping me alive after my accident three days before was that he didn't want people to live my example: An underachiever who almost died getting steamed buns from Carson.

I probably blame my only food intake then either being overstuffed by two wraps and a plate of fries, or the three cookies while I had during service....

This is probably why I wanted to go to the gym in the first place:  I felt good then, and whenever I went back to work, I felt like I could do anything.  Well, almost anything.

I guess this is what happens when I'm waiting for sheets to get done, I start to rant and then everything else doesn't piece together well...

But yes, USC lost today and UCLA won, woohoo!

I am not myself lately, and I think I know why.

I was in an accident yesterday, and I still can't get over it.  It's as if every car moves to the right, I can't help but cringe, brake slowly and go way below the speed limit.

It's almost as if my confidence was shattered in half, and I don't even know if I'm going to get it back.

There's so many thoughts on my head right now from that one day, from the point of impact to my drive home on a car with really bad wheel alignment and screeching wheels from Long Beach to Gardena.

I don't even know to where to start, but I'll fire away.

1.  I've "complained" about a routine life, and I needed something to spice it up.  This was not the way I wanted to do it, especially with my birthday coming up, and all.

2.  My mom keeps reitirating the point that God saved my life.  My aunt died the same way, except I didn't get hit while spinning two lanes into a hazard lane into the grass.

3.  This whole ordeal is affecting me.  My shoulders are always up, I don't know why, but I feel stiff and icy.  I'm still comfortable driving, but again my confidence is just shattered, and I'm still livid from that bastard who bumped me in the side.  As much as I hate to say it, this is how I really feel and nothing can change that, even though my parents have easily forgiven me for it.

4.  I need to rethink life.  It's as if I've been doing it wrong, and there's some really weird and twisted message in this.  I don't know how to redo it, but for starters, I should just appreciate my so called routine life for now, get a PASS in my english class, and get an A in my math class, then head out for New York, start a whole new life over there.

Despite this whole accident, I am in one piece, blogging late once again, as I've been almost falling asleep in work and my legs are getting more tired by the minute, per hour. 

Also, something that greatly balances this out is that I've been accepted as a Youth and Government intern.  I'm really psyched about it, and I'm glad that I'm not the only Westchesterian (not really from Westchester, but my name badge says so) that's interning.

Besides all that emotion, now I have to ask my boss for a dayoff on the sixteenth of October, and knowing that it will fly, Sarah and I are driving to Ontario.  Not sure if it's only her or me, but it's going to be fun either way.

Anyways, time to sleep because I have to work.  One more day, and it's my birthday and a paycheck!

My life seems to be very routine lately.  I blog about my math and english classes, what happens at work everyday and how things are at home.

I have my driving privileges.  I have money (well, I technically don't - I have to hold out for my birthday bonfire on friday), so why shouldn't I do something with my life to spice it up?

Any ideas?

This whole Kanye West craze is ridiculous.  One might say that his interruption of Taylor Swift's acceptance speech was a public stunt, it sure didn't look like it with her face almost somewhat teary-eyed, and a sudden boo from the audience.  Oh well.  Here's another South Park episode dedicated to the Kanye's asshole personality.

I realized that I blog so late at night is that it's the perfect time that I could sift my thoughts in silence.  At this point, I'm not really doing that, but I can live.

I've been doing homework for my Developmental Reading/Writing class, and so far it's just tedious.  I don't know why I forget to do it at the last minute, as if I've forgotten that I spent ten dollars on a planner.  Seriously, ten dollars on a planner?  That's a ripoff.

But going on with the class, I expect my book(s) to arrive tomorrow, so that I can use them in class to review.  All this night though, I've been studying or completing sections that only relate to context clues.  I don't even think I needed a dictionary for some of them.

As for my math, I'm still sticking to my dislike of word problems.  It's not that I don't have the ability to work on them, it's just that I have too many distractions in my life, but so far, I'm coasting through it rather nicely.

I can't believe that this is my birthday week.  I'll be nineteen soon, and all I really have to say is I'm excited about Saturday, though I'm very nervous as to how it will turn out.

The weirdest and most interesting conversations come in between 11 evening until I go to sleep.

I'm having one with Hassan right now who for some reason is giving me the rundown of the people I've liked in the past.  It's funny in a way now that I can laugh at it, since back then it was a stressful period of time just having those people affecting a portion of my thought process.

I've also been trying to come up with a creative way to answer the ten things that I want to tell people.  I only have five people to tell things to at the moment.  That, and as much as I want to be very, very straightforward, I have to keep in mind that my blog is exported in facebook, thus my facebook friends get to read it, and with a portion of them being adults, I respect their opinions of me, plus some so I really do not want to put my grievances out there as a whole.

Since this is the weekend, I don't have anything else to write.  Nothing around me as of this moment stimulates thought... Maybe Arielle's essay, which I should give a second look since she gave me her second draft of it.  Before that though was a day of watching college football games, playing tennis, doing math sections and messing around with my laptop...

If you actually read this, I encourage you to read letlive's blog.  The "food for thought" section is amazing.

My room is not a mecca of cleanliness, as it is in fact the opposite.

I can see without turning my head a couple of plates, cd's, notebooks, wires, and a book that I just recently got.  The book is called Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain where he talks about the secrets of the restaurant business - in a somewhat bad way, however realistic.

I've been dying to read Anthony Bourdain the first time I've ever heard him talk on Top Chef.  This man is very straightforward, brash and good at what he does.  He's an American Gordon Ramsay, if you will. 

I haven't read the book yet - I've just read the introudction and skip a couple of words, then sentence here and there and all of a sudden, the whole thing since my cousin kept humming "Don't Stop Believing" along with the noise of the television during the process.  It's not worth reading or doing anything at all if you're distracted.  That's just my theory.

I also just got done playing Sims 3 for a couple hours and the shit gets boring especially when the family (mine being me, my "wife", and children - two girls) goes crazy.  Funny thing is that I named my twin girls Casey and Ashleigh (really, I did, and the part that's upcoming after will only be comprehended by those who watch Greek).  When they became toddlers (of course, babies all look the same), Casey was brunette and Ashleigh was blonde.  I'm not kidding, and even I had to laugh at it.

But not to over analyze a game, where did the blonde hair come from knowing that me and "my wife" have black hair?

Uh-oh. (Oreo?)

As for other parts of my day, I came down to Westchester High to drop off some strings.  I'm glad that I was welcomed back, and it's so much better being an outsider than being an insider by not experiencing the crappy administration that it has to offer along with many other factors, of course.

At work today, there was a caterpillar on the salad.  It still makes me wonder how it got there considering that every piece of lettuce is washed, spun and all that mumbo jumbo.  Maybe it did fall out of a tree, who knows.  But my boss was pretty livid about it and eventually saw the light that is the logic of it falling off a tree.  Whew.

Birthday's in a week.  I'm psyched.

I don't know if I'll write at this rate of two blogs a night.  I'm not even trying, it's just that so much thought spews out of my brain that I need to actually get it out so I can sleep decently at night.

I wouldn't say that this happened for the first time in my life, but for the first time in a while, someone told me that they missed me.  It actually made my day, and like Mark Twain, I could live off these words (or in his case, compliments) for a month.

My other thought is that taking this English Class would add some vocabulary to my arsenal of words.  I feel like a test subject in Flowers for Algernon, where Charlie, the main character, becomes a test subject for intelligence pills that do actually work.

Although they did work, it worked for a short amount of time.  Side note, Charlie "speled lyk dis" - something not is not really ebonics however resembling the said format.

While I feel that this english class will boost my vocabulary, It'll be lost again sometime until I either memorize it or use it over and over again. 

That's what school is for, right?

I find myself jamming lately to Glee's version of "Gold Digger" despite missing a good portion of it.  Oh well, it's a family show.

But I had a couple of thoughts during work today, one of them being the difference between a punch and a kick and how my "Perfect 20" Youth and Government shirt related to it.

Besides the obvious differences of a punch and a kick with fists for punches and legs for kicks, I realized that we describe our food that has a certain "punch" of flavor, or a "kick" of a certain flavor.

It's not PEMDAS, it's not interchangable.

Punch is the "word" used if you want to describe it as having a lot of flavor. Think about it.  Why do you think fruit punch is so fucking sweet that it can melt your enamel away?

Kick, on the other hand is primarily used for spicy stuff.  As if I ate some uber-spicy ice cream in North Carolina (I've actually read an article over AOL over this) where you have to sign a waiver before you get to eat it.  But yes, a "kick" is spice just goes off in your mouth, like a flame, or something of the sort.

Just thought I'd put that out there.

My second thought is that I wore my "Perfect 20" shirt after a long while.

For those who don't know, 20 is the highest score you can get on your proposal in the National Issues Commission program in Youth and Government.  It needs to have Creativity, Debatability and all that other stuff.  (Maybe this is why I don't deserve to be an intern? lol.)

But yes.  Those two, plus three other unmentioned/forgotten categories add up to a score up to twenty.  For the rest of the synopsis about the program, join Youth and Government and join NIC.

It's fun, and yes I'm promoting the Youth and Government program.

Now, back to my life. ( I know, I'm such an ass.)

My boss told me today that I get to "experience democracy" by being in the Employee's Committee.

Yup.

So basically, this is somewhat Youth and Government for me all over again, but with grown-ups and Managers.  I repeat, managers.  The thoughts in my head are flowing faster than the water in Niagara falls.  I've been working in the club for two months, and I do not know anything that goes around the system!

That's why I'm here for, right?

But after a monologue from my British general manager (yes, he's British, he wants England to win the World Cup, and he's a proud drunk while being an avid English soccer fan), I had a really good time with it and felt very professional.

Also, note to self:  Use proper grammar when blogging.  Partial reason why I have a crappy grade reading level...

I suppose that would be all...

This is going to be my real post for tonight.  You can read the last post that I had if you want to, but my philosophy is that if I put it out there, then it's out there.  It's like food that I make, people consume it and it'll never go back.  Maybe it does, but it all turns out to be fecal matter.

Today is my third day at El Camino.  I'm starting to gain stride as a student again despite my 12.5 + 8.5 = 21.0/2 = 10.5 grade level reading average, or so a test said.

Alex once said something about how tests shouldn't determine our lives.  Then again, Naomi said that it doesn't really determine as to what we are, it just verifies it.

As for a side note, Alex and Naomi are two of my friends, and with all due respect, I won't release their last names.

But going back to the test.  As much as I'm disappointed about my sophomore-reading level, there's a lot of variables that go into this:

1. I hated high school level reading.  I.E - Tess of the D'Urbervilles, Sound and The Fury.  Sorry Mr. Mernin.

2. 2's on both my AP Lit and AP English tests.  I don't really know if that's just a matter of bad test-taking or a lack of reading comprehension or both.  Someone give me a dose of harsh reality.

Going back to the topic of college, it's these two factors, plus some of course that carried me into these class.  After all, old habits die hard, or the domino effect theory.  Pick your poison.

I was sitting in my english class and I can't help but notice the people around me.  There's this one person who keeps nodding his head left to right.  He nods his head enough as if you can put a Jim Carrey voice-over in Yes Man where the scene of the tow truck driver says "NO MAN. NO MAN".  Then I learned he was blind.  I guess it all becomes understandable....

Another person that stands out in my class is this person who sits next to me.  He hasn't brought his supplies for english, and I've been lucky enough to shop in bulk that my manila folders were gone in half and I was two more scantrons short.  However, I'm not going to complain about it (partial lie here), since I was willing to give up some supplies.  "It's like kindergarten again", as Gabriella Montez (High School Musical - shoot me if you may for such an allusion) says.  Give a juice box, gain a friendship.  Something like that, I guess.

Going on with this person, I felt the essence of Westchester again sitting in Kamm's economics/government class where a majority of the people there are academically deprived, and some of them are just there for the credit (myself, for example, but this time, it really counts).  He constantly texts on his phone as I can hear his phone vibrate, and texts while the professor is giving lectures, and cracking jokes right in front of her.  I don't really mind that kinda attitude, but I wouldn't act like an idiot to someone who controls my fate as of the moment.

Going into Math class, I also feel very confident as this is intermediate algebra.  I have said in the past that I have hit roadblocks with my homework, and I'm feeling that roadblock once again, just for a couple sections, of course but a roadblock nonetheless.

My professor reminds me of a Mernin/Alex (Schmiddy) fuse.  He somewhat has Alex's features (but from afar), with a Mernin attitude (he was a guitarist too).  His lectures are easy and simple, and I never get bored with it, considering that solving math problems keeps me busy enough.

I keep looking at the bottom right corner of my laptop and it reads 12:07 and ongoing.  I still have work tomorrow, and I really don't want to look dead on my station.  Also, my back hurts a bit.  I don't know why, and I still have to copy forty pages from a book tomorrow.  That's five dollars, at least.  Blah....

I love college?

I'm stuck as to what to write between my experiences in English class or my oddly weird unknown fetish?

I think I'll go for the first one, since the thought has been marinating too much in my head that Tom Collicchio would tell me it's overkill.

It's my fourth day at El Camino.  Correct me, third day since there was labor day.  I am finally an established student (or I guess I can say that considering I usually get my groove on after the third day).

The thought that lingers most in my mind as of the moment is my reading level, which is why I've decided to write this little piece in the first place:  To disobey my professor's orders and to share the world what I got despite telling us that these scores should be private.

On one test, I got a 12.5 reading level (grade level, go figure) and on some RFU (forgot what it actually was, but go look it up anyway), I'm a high school freshman.

How embarassing?

Whatever.

As for the other part of this blog, you can message me about it because it's not something to be told over facebook.  To tell you the truth, it's an observation, not necessarily a fetish.  So there.

Work tomorrow.  Leaving my station at 12 while short two people will not leave my conscience and I can hear Chef yelling on me a la Ramsay by calling me either a stupid cow or a lazybitch or somewhere along those lines.

But yeah, I hope not.

So far, I am finding my math sets easy except for two sections, and as for another one that's currently work in progress, I just think it's too tedious, but at the same time easy.

I guess this is what I go to school for, huh?

I've said in the past that I was very skeptical going into college because of my lack of academic ability.  So far, I'm proud to say that I'm making progress, except that I'm for some reason worried that I'll need my books tomorrow for english and they won't be in the mail two days until my birthday.

Looks like someone's gonna head out to El Camino early to copy some chapters.

Back to progress.  I said that I was making progress because I find my math homework very do-able so far, but I guess for homeworks, I really do have to hit up the library to really get into it.  Seriously, libraries are like those rehab places to "seclude" you from the real world and it's "evils", kind of like rehab places and the drugs thing.

Speaking of school, I'm glad that my mates (the younger ones, of course) are starting school.  I'm only saying this because they are on their way out, and really... after four years, who wouldn't want to be out in the shit-hole that is high school and the drama that surrounds it?

However though, just because it's a shit-hole it doesn't mean that you can't enjoy the better moments you experience in there.  It's a shit-hole for a reason: Crap goes out of it, then there's that sudden relief then there's things being digested then it turns into crap.

It's just another cycle in our lives, really.

To end in a happy note, it looks like that I'm going to sleep early considering that it felt like I didn't get any today, especially during  rush at work

Note to self:  Prep better, bring two sharpies, cover all your bases.

Goodnight to everyone, school tomorrow.

Why did I even write this?

I hate the feeling when "my heart drops".

I don't even know how to explain it, it's like someone punched inside your heart or something... You have to experience it for yourself.

But yes, I've been playing Sims 3 for hours and this might be a sign that I need a new game.  MLB 2k9, FTW?

I also found out that Sims 3 is having an expansion pack.  Yay for expansion packs, because this one certainly needs it.

The Circle of Life

I don't understand how a relationship works.

There's a lot of stories behind them. Some met at a Starbucks, someone decided to be a jackass on Facebook to see if people had the same name as him (which he did, and they ended up getting married somewhere), or some people meet them doing eHarmony... so on, so forth.

For some reason, I believe that asking every girl/woman (whichever) out is pathetic. Then again, how do you find out if this person's the one?

Then if you do find "the one", you become talk and become friends with them until at some point you decide to ask them out and they decide to tell you that you're at a dead end with a friendship and a friendship only along with "sorry" and a hug. It's insult added to injury, then you're just back to square one.

Pretty much, this whole ordeal can be summed up as....

(See title above)

I've been starting one draft after another, and there's nothing worthy to post about. This is not the AP test where I have to post whatever I write after two hours of reading essays and making bullshit up. I write because I feel like it, and like Eminem, as much as I need a new outlet, I really don't have anything.

Therefore, as much as I mention all my problems with people going out to Colorado, people going to un-hawt Jewish frat parties at Berkeley or people beating me to relationships, I can't really do anything about it except to swallow the damn pill of reality and live with it.

I really think that the source of frustration right now comes with the pressure of me keeping a getting a B in a math class, though I am taking two classes, which one really is a Pass/Fail, but I still have to pass the exit exam, kind of like an evolved CAHSEE of sorts. So really, this math class is an "A or else you're stagnant for the rest of your life". That, and the fact that it's such a long way to go makes it so much harder....

But I picked this route, and now I'm going to deal with it. New York, here I come.