The freshman/sophomore semi-formal is coming up.

This isn't some ordinary, private-school-kids-think-they're-in-some-form-of-racy-club, boring wall-flowerish semi-formal. Oh no, our co-presidents made sure of that.

This semi-formal has a theme, and it is not "semi-formal" as it should be.

No, this theme is much worse, much more risqué.

Bling-bling.

I'm serious. Someone actually thought this was a good idea. Giving a semi-formal dance a theme is like telling an elephant it is no longer allowed to wear those Arabic blanket things it so favors, but instead squeeze into Moroccan slippers, an a-line circle skirt and a silk bolero. Oh, and you cannot forget the fact that now elephants must walk on two legs and two legs only, no more of that four-legged prowl shit.

It doesn't go over to well, though this way you will not get trampled by a raging hormonal elephant, just look like an absolute moron when you show up with your medallions and the like.

I wasn't planning on going, but it will be an easy way to get that Fetching bolero I've been lusting after, along with some new jewelry (I'm thinking coral, lot's of coral, and gold) and a new dress (black a-line perhaps?) .

It's sensational, isn't it? How I can turn ever menial event into a way to buy new clothing. I suppose it's bad for me, and I'll either need to marry a very rich man (of aristocrat caliber of course) or start some form of international franchise while prostituting and trafficking drugs (a la heroine, crack, X) on the side. I vote for number one, although number two would make me a powerful, independent (fugitive) woman.

No, I still want number one.

Dammit. I have a boat load of work to do (re-write out line, five bagillion math problems, read Macbeth, read for history, do chem homework not finished from yesterday oh, and tonights chem homework, math test corrections...Fuck), not to mention I need to write a 300 word essay for the summer program in Grenada (or Costa Rica or Brazil) and get teacher recs. Did I divulge that I am absolutely exhausted? I suppose I'll have to break my no-soda-diet because I'm in dire need of caffine.

There was a snow day yesterday. Somehow, I ended up at Loehmans where I managed to snag a pair of Yanük's for $48. Good deal, they were nearly $100 off. I'm not so sure about them, but for that price, I don't really think at matters. This is my cheap side, just in case you were wondering.

Had a bonding session with Chris today, we discussed politics, chicken fingers (the whole barbecue vs. honey-mustard debate), and how the freshman are such sluts. It was a good time.

My plans for the weekend are currently non-existent, other then going to the library tomorrow to work on my history paper. Alone. Goodness, I'm such a nerd. I supposed it's okay to delve into my nerdy side occasionally, at least it means I have a nerdy side.

Another choppy post.

Hope your Friday is more rivetingly enjoyable than mine.

I suppose it's time for a new layout, but I really cannot be bothered to figure out what the hell happened to Photoshop. It disappeared. Quite randomly I might add. One day it's there, the next POOF! it's lost in the abyss of deleted programs. I may wear black tomorrow to signify my loss, hell, maybe I'll even have a funeral of sorts. I'll flush a ceremonial piece of paper with "ADOBE PHOTOSHOP 6.0" drawn on it in melancholy black letters and I'll wear a veil and black skirt-suit. I'll carry a bouquet of white lilies and cry as the piece of paper gets whisked away into the realm of the contaminated.

Maybe I can start a support group of sorts. The ILMFGPST, 'I Lost My Favorite Graphic Program Support Team'. Ah yes, I'm sure I'll gain innumerable members and become world renowned as the best loss-of-graphic-program-support-group leader.

I suppose I've taken that a bit to far, but hey, it took my mind off of my incredibly stupid lack of intelligence. I left my chem notebook at school. Now, normally this wouldn't be an issue. If only I didn't have a ridiculously important formal lab report due tomorrow. Yes, that’s right, I left all of my notes at school. Because I am the most ingenious person in the world.

School. It's come back to bite me in the butt. One day and I'm already buckling under the pressure. Socratic seminars, quizzes, graded exams and, you guessed it, formal lab reports. I'm already losing sleep, my throat is becoming scratchy (a sure sign of illness, beautiful) my hair is misbehaving (if only I could give it a time out) and I have nothing to wear. Critique my ditziness at your will, but ditzy I am and ditzy I shall remain.

I get distracted easily. A good example is during my English exam. I do believe I was creating my future husband and staring at the brightly colored Latin posters which said something along the lines of "Don't join the vulgar crowd, take Latin!” I don't get it. They're supposed to be some form of joke, but it makes no sense. None at all.

I really should be getting back to my FLR. I don't want to. Please don't make me. Pleaaseee. (Previous three "sentences" were whined. Like a four year old.)

I'll wish you a Happy New Year and remind you to make your resolutions before heading off into the realm of nonessential psychobabble.

To me, 2005 seems like it will be better than 2004. Who knows, maybe something extraordinary will happen? But I say that every year, and that marvelous event has yet to occur. I can feel the ball of the unknown forming in my chest. It's one of those things I'm constantly worrying about. What will happen next? Not like anything exciting ever happens, just an extraneous sense of foreboding which comes with the territory of insecure teenager. Maybe I'll make a few resolutions this year. Hell, maybe I'll even stick to them. Maybe I won't because I get bored far too easily, but it's a nice thought, no?

I've managed to dig myself into the black hole of an imaginary future. Not a good thing. It's perfect, my imaginary future, but I've obviously already set the expectation bar a bit too high. It'll lead to inevitable disappointment. It always does. I would share it with you, but it feels a bit too personal. Sharing my dream. I can't tell you why, I've blurted it out to some friends... just too personal. Even if I like personal. I like knowing what people are thinking and how they perceive things. How they picture they're future. Just... I can't do it myself. I suppose that's a bit hypocritical, but what can I say? I'm a hypocrite.

I'm constantly seeking approval, I can't seem too get over it. I want compliments. Lot's of compliments. Just to make me feel accepted. I've always wanted to stand out. Have everyone know me. But somehow, I managed to close myself off from reality. I don't stand out...as far as I know. People don't seek my approval, though I wish they would. I suppose I'm wallowing now, but it feels good to get a few things out of the way. It's just...there is nothing special about me. I'm not extremely beautiful, I'm not awfully smart, I'm not terribly funny, and I tend to be at a loss for words. I suppose one would call me average, and no matter how hard I try I'm stuck there. In that gray area with all of the other average people. There's nothing wrong with average, I've just always wanted more. I want to be exceptional, distinguished, memorable. In fact, I strive to be those things. But no one will ever look back on my life and say, "Well that is one to remember...that girl was something special." I know I'll end up at some dead end job, sitting in an office I really don't want to be in. Yeah, maybe I'll make a lot of money, but money means nothing if no one knows your name. I'll be another faceless, nameless snooty old lady with a closet full of Prada. There's nothing wrong with Prada, in fact, I quite admire Miuccia, it's just not what I want.

Nobody likes wallowing. It's pathetic, ridiculous, and worst of all, it's useless. Wallowing has yet to make me feel better, it just makes me play the part of unhappy-fifteen-year-old. Nothing special.

I'm done immersing in unhappiness, it's time for fun.

Okay, not fun, just some recent buys.

Went thrifting, if you can call it that (I suppose you can), at Charitable Heart. Tiny place, incredible crowded, it was hard to look through things the racks were so packed. Bought a gorgeous braided belt. Black with faux pearls and gold. Hard too explain, but lovely, oh so lovely. Also got a baby-doll-esque dress. Red with cream colored polka dots. Fitted - bodice ends just above my natural waist, and then flows into billowing skirt supported by one old petticoat. I'm assuming it's from the 70's. A bit Gilligan’s Island.

Then I went into Wellesley and bought the bag I've been lusting after for weeks. Gold knit with oversized sequins... a very slouchy hobo.

I've already decided a few outfits for the dress. Now all I need are two pairs of pumps - one gold, one black.

I'll delve into the extremely boring world of my current outfit. Nothing special at all, but with a good pair of sunglasses (preferably Oliver Peoples which I have yet to acquire) and some Chucks (again, which I still need) or some cute sandals (ooh, maybe those Antik Batiks which are on sale at La Redoute...), it would the perfect flight outfit. Too bad I'm not doing any traveling anytime soon. Back on topic. Old Weathervane jeans (ripped, paint splashes on them, I really should throw these out...), school athletic tee-shirt (I'm not sure what size it is, but it's too big, tunic length), black 3/4 sleeved cardigan (bottom button fell off... I really should fix that). Tra-la! Beautiful, no?

Sarcasm, dearies, sarcasm. It's a lovely thing.

I have a family party tomorrow. Not so sure about my outfit yet. Maybe I'll wear the red dress with my current cardigan (I will fix that button), leggings and my mocc boots? Or maybe my flat Marc Jacobs and no leggings? Or maybe my Citizens with a plain tee, my belt and my current or a cream colored cardigan? Oh the decisions are much too hard to make on my own.

It's time for bed kiddos. 'Night.

(Title lyrics by Dream Theater... I've never actually heard their music, but I like they're lyrics. No matter how depressing)

Spent the past few days basking in unsanitary bliss. Only showered if I had to go out, I'm sure I smell like a homeless person right now. It's okay. I'm over it.

Currently wallowing in the fact that my life is not up to par. I yearn for a packed to the point of explosion schedule, the daily shopping excursions, the many people trying to catch my attention. The creative cafe's, the art shows, the fashion events, the formal parties, the charity affairs. All of it.

The braces came off on Monday. Like my life, my teeth are not up to par. There are a couple of gaps which this retainer will supposedly fix. I'm tired of my mouth being under constant siege. I want it to be over and done with, God dammit. My teeth need to be liberated.

I've come to the conclusion that I am decidedly uncool. I need to shop. Spend hundreds of dollars on nonessential albeit wonderful pieces of clothing. Thrift. Scavenge. Gah, I need to persuade my parents into giving me more money. I'm a selfish little wench.

I would go into detail about my outfit and past week and bore you to tears but I'm tired.

Exams are over and I am officially on winter break. Huzzah!

I spent the last week procrastinating like you've never seen and basically screwing myself over. It's okay though 'cause I wasn't stressed out and therefore will not develop wrinkles and gray hair by the time I am twenty-five. It's true that stress causes aging. Doc told us.

Went to Wellesley Center yesterday with Hannah, Xanny (I really am trying) and Seray. Had fun dawdling around in Trappings and E.A. Davis. So much Lily Pulitzer I nearly passed out. We spent about an hour in Starbucks discussing disturbing urban legends, true suicide stories, freakishly scary horror tales and ponies. Hannah and Seray insisted on playing with their new My Little Pony's. They sang too. I wanted to through a puerile fit out of embarrassment. Maybe I should work on that.

Then we traveled back to Hannah's in order to watch the OC. Tellement drame, I love it. After a thoroughly enjoyable dose of Chrismukkah, we headed on over to the Holiday Tournament to watch the boys basketball team win fantastically. Score: 55 to 36 or something relatively close to that.

I am a bit too excited for Christmas. Clothes. That’s all I want, the lovely, fantastic, beautiful clothes which I asked for and more. And then my boots. My black suede incredible, amazing, gorgeous boots. I'll finally be allowed to wear them.

Some hot chocolate-mocha and some form of movie sounds good right about now. I think I'll go do that.

Today is World AIDS Day, thank you Google. I just thought I would share that with you. And I do realize that the title is basically longer then this entry.

I am currently pondering on the pros and cons of applying to boarding school. Maybe I'll make a list...

Pros:
-I'll be away from home, not like my home is bad, I just wont have my parents breathing down my neck. I do love them though.
- A whole new world of people
- Living at school, you will never forget a book/homework. Okay, so that one is minimal, but still!
- I think it would be fun. A good environment for me.

Cons:
-I'll be away from my friends, some of whom I have seen at least once a week for ten years, it used to be every day...
- I'll be away from my mom.
- No random plans a la "Hey want to do something?" "Yeah sure"
- Generally, a stricter dress code.

Hmm...they're about equal.

I'm considering Suffield, St. Paul’s, Pomfret and maybe Kent School.

I think I'll apply just to see if I get in, if I don't then it won't matter. If I do... then I'll have a big decision to make.

I am currently munching on some ministrone and bread while waiting for the Chinese food to arrive. It's my pre-dinner, my apetizer if you will. I am the epitome of school pride. Oh yes, sitting here in my school sweatpants and althetic tee-shirt... oh yes I am secretly cheering on the boys and girls soccer teams. Okay, thats bull, I was just working out.

Harry Potter comes out on Tuesday, me and Tess are going to have a Harry Potter marathon. That wasn't completely random, I swear, there was a commercial on TV.

I've been poking around the Teen Vogue forums recently. It has come to my attention that a lot of people want to be impossibly skinny. By this I mean they're 5'9" and want to weigh 95 pounds. Is that even possible? I don't think so.

Bah.

I haven't posted in a while so I suppose maybe I should. I was sick yesterday. So maybe I wasn't really sick, maybe it was stress-induced, but I felt ill all the same.

Today I was wearing a red gap sweater-tee-shirt with mesh like holes, a plain white beater underneath, my white blazer from Italy ( I just found out today the pockets were sewn shut. Typical), boring Abercrombie khakis, my moms old wool clogs and a big fake pearl and crystal necklace which I took from my great aunt (she's dead so it's okay). I'm not really sure why I decided it would be appropriate to tell you this, just thought it would be fun I guess.

I have no incredibly-funny-will-have-you-rolling-on-the-floor-convulsing-in-laughter-stories, but Hannah did meet my awkward-tall-cute-in-a-not-so-cute-way freshman. She says he's a sweetie, I think I knew that, but I'm not really sure.

I guess I don't know anything, and maybe that's why I'm so enticing. Oh who am I kidding? I know everything; you bow to my incredible wit.