A Week In Pictures

Here are little windows into my past week.
This was me on Monday. I needed sleep.

Tuesday, I was isolated and indifferent. Also very, very busy procrastinating.

Wednesday. My nerves were shot and I was bitchy.

On Thursday, I stopped lusting after Cherub and went back to idolizing myself.

And finally...Friday. Today, I was, well....I mean, it's Friday!

The F Bomb

Presenting to you the oh-so-coveted Fendi B. Bag...

Some predicted the rise of the Fendi B. Bag as the next big thing and they are not disappointed. This beautifully designed bag came out on eluxury and, as monumental moment in fashion, was sold out within minutes. Named as this season's new 'it' bag by iVillage, and described as making it "B-I-G" on the Purse Blog, this is truly a bag worth your drool and daydreams. I can almost go as far as to say that this is worth its retail price. Almost.

The Fendi B Bag comes in diverse fabrics and styles--creamy, tan calfskin trimmed boldly with patent leather, white linen contrasted with black trimming that hints at mod, glamorous bitch-black leather, and so, so many more--all which comes with its signature oversized buckles.

Its price is dear ($1,200 to $5,000+) and competition fierce. To order it now on eluxury, you will receive it some time in the middle of June. Good luck with that.

However, don't let that stop your daydreams. Stare at it all you want. Pictures are posted all over the internet, and if it's too expensive to possess, at least there's no fee to ogle at it.

*sigh*

Grammy Material

In light of current trends and some...erm...interesting music choices on my ipod, C and I formed a band so we too can jump into this new, threatening tsunami of 'emo kids'. We had some trouble on coming up with a band name, but in the end, we decided on something original and sincere. We really wanted our name to represent us as musicians, and more importantly, as people other kids can relate to. In a spark of inspiration, the next 'it' band was born.

We are The Bleedmyheartdrys.

Quickly following the success of our name, the lyrics for our first song was conceived. Now, I must admit that the lyrics had been in the works for some time now, but it was never completed. In the slightly overheated environment of our schoolbus, C and I put our heads together and really worked on this. Finally, we produced something that we both agree is profoundly deep.

Since neither of us really play an instrument, we're having some trouble getting represented by labels. However, I really feel that our music needs to be shared and not hoarded. Thus, I will now post the lyrics our first ever song, My Dark Abyss.

*When performed, the lyrics are to be sung in what we call our very own creative way. However, if you insist we explain our genius, then I will say that the lyrics, when put in song, is a cross between Silverstein and...um... a pissed-off basketball coach.

My Dark Abyss

but The Bleedmyheartdrys

*Guitars*

*Drums*

Life is a piece of shit!

My life's drenched with my dark tears of despair!

This isn't gonna be a hit!

Because my broken heart needs repair!

*guitar solo*

Chorus:

Pick up your razors,

let's slit our writs!

YEAH YEAH YEAH

Because my life is a dark abyss!

YEAH YEAH YEA-

DIE!!!

I hope you guys enjoyed that. Comments are welcome.

FAQ

Are you guys touring?!?!?

No. Sorry.

Omg, I love you guys. Do you have an album out, yet?

No. Our album is still in progress.

In progress? What sort of songs should we be expecting?

That's a secret. Wouldn't want to ruin the surprise. ;)

M's Favorite Things

So, I got shoes last weekend with K when we went bargain-shopping. Since the weather is plotting against me by raining and being unpredictable, I decided to wear my shoes at home and take pictures. Shutup.

P.S. Just look at them!!! *drool*

Oh, and by the way... Cowboys are the next hottest thing. They're gorgeous and talented. The following clip will confirm my statement:

[Do not watch if prone to heart attacks]

http://youtube.com/watch?v=nkp9OXAVD88

Thoughtfulness

There are a few kinds of people out there that I don't like.
1. Arrogant people. I know what you're thinking...I'm arrogant, and almost everyone I know is arrogant. What I mean is the kind of arrogant that's blind to criticism.
2. This leads me to my next one. I don't like ignorant people--the ones who look about the world with eyes wide shut. They can travel the world, tread every road, and look upon every phenomenon, but still manage to gain no wisdom whatsoever.
3. I don't like people who look down on others, but those types sometimes amuse me because their faces turn pale when you send back retorts. It surprises them so much that other people can actually...gasp...Challenge their power.

Okay, whatever. The above really isn't what this entry is about. I'm just trying to make a point here. There are a lot of irritating types of people here on earth, but do you know which type I hate most out of all those kinds?

This kind of person is a little hard to explain. He's arrogant, but impishly so. He's ignorant. He's also condescending, but in a way that suggests he's actually out there to help you...a philanthropist of sorts.

He's manipulative.

You can attack him. He lashes you back. But here...here is the essence of it all: Once you're licking your wounds...once you've backed off...this person will then go back and turn the other cheek, letting you hit him.

Now, how do you fight someone who turns the other cheek? You can't. You feel guilty. You start to reprimand yourself for attacking a poor, helpless person who really doesn't mean harm. But you know what? It's all bullshit. A facade. This person is far from helpless.

This person is like the vine that wraps around a strong tree. He doesn't give back. He takes what he wants and wraps his arms around you like he's trying to be good and keep you warm.

He's the kind of enemy you can't fight. He will break your defense lines, and once he's there, you can't get him out.

You won't be able to detect him until it's too late. But once you recognize him, keep him around. Don't get rid of him. Let him be the magician at a little kid's birthday party. You'll be the adult in the back, rolling your eyes at all his tricks, but outwardly acting fooled and impressed. Observe his habits. It's actually quite interesting.

Down With Procrastination!

This is an attempt to be organized. I will make a schedule for myself.

-Science Lab Writeup 6:00-6:20 pm
*Break
-Math Hw #64 6:30-6:45 pm
*Break
-Spanish Workbook pg. 109,110 6:55-7:15 pm
*Break
-English Extra Credit 7:20-7:40 pm
*~*~Dinner~*~*
-Print App. 8:02
-Sign Response 8:05
-Guided Reading 8:05-8:25 pm
-Study for Spanish Test (aka Doom!) 8:25-8:45 pm
-Clean Room 8:45-8:50 pm
-Shower 8:50-9:10 pm
-Write 9:13-10:30 pm

Alright, I'm crossing my fingers that this schedule will help me.

Crash, goes my sky.

I hate this. Sometimes, I'm so frustrated I want to tear my hair out and cry. I wish I never discovered the joys of writing. Where's the future in it? Where is the fucking future in Ambition? Even, if by some obscure chance, I finish this novel, who would publish it? It's about a cold, avaricious bitch who goes to extreme means to obtain the crown of some made up country in some made up time period. It's just so stupid. No one would want to read it just by that summary, and certainly no publisher would be interested.

I should stop wasting my time with Ambition and start a new, sensible historical fiction. But I'm so close to completing it. I can see a glimmer of the finishline off in the horizon. If I don't finish it, I would be wasting two fucking years of material. Two years of staying up nights, tossing and turning while structuring the story inside my mind. Two years of continuous typing, competing in a race against time. Two years of tears and frustration and writer's blocks. Do I just want to throw that away and start afresh?

This story is sucking out my energy. It's clouding my mind like a drug, stopping me from concentrating on anything else. There's a life past writing, you know? There's a life without worries and writer's blocks and Ambition.

Now, I'm starting to think that even after the labor of writing is over, I'll be faced with nothing but bleak failure. I'm just a fucking failure at everything. I can't even write that well. Everything I write is just dreadful. There are people out there with true talent. How the hell am I supposed to compete against them?

I want talent. Is there a pill to take? A God to pray to? Tell me because I think I'm going to go insane. I'm pouring my soul into this book with no comfort to patch the void. Everything I believe in is contructed of paper. All the characters, the setting, the plot...all ink on paper. They're not true. They're just my imagination. Why do I bother with them? They're...nothing.

My work is crap, all of it. All of it is fucking crap! Astrophel, Amantius, Callistus...Just get the fuck out of my mind. I hate you. I hate all of you. You're not real. You're just wisps of my overactive imagination.

God..god...god, why do you torture me like this? Death is better than this delirium of pain. You give me thoughts, but no talent. You give me words, but no poetry. You give me lips, but no voice.

I'm insignificant, small, and worthless. Why should I have such an unquenchable desire for success if the reality is that I'll never achieve it?

Ambition should burn in hell for being the leech that slowly sucks away my life. In the end, I'll be nothing but a empty shell with the pages of my novel scattered around me, inked with failure.

"Look," they'll say, pointing, "there's the girl who put everything in her work, and was wrecked by her own Ambition."

Productivity

I finished the twenty-first chapter.

Finally.

I'm probably going to have to kill myself to meet my self made April 7th deadline. There are a few more chapters needed to tie up Part II, then I have to write an entire Part III. Kill me. Kill me, now.


In other news! B is officially the female power figure of the moment. I deduced this after seeing the following comment she left on her ex's blog-

"It's not rationalizing, it's me being angry at you. There's a major difference, you clueless asshole."
Note: B, I swear I'm not stalking you and everyone you know online. I found his blog through a comment he left.

And as for me, no current boyfriends at the moment, though everyone thinks I like S. These are the facts at the moment.

-People think I like S.
-I like fantasizing about S, but not actually carrying a conversation with him.
-S expressed he wanted to see my hands inside my pants.

This concludes my lonely, pathetic love life. And this post.

I'm a Rake. Yea-ah.

Your Seduction Style: Sex Pot

Tradionally known as a "siren", "rake", or "femme fatale." You exude sensuality.And while your sexiness is part of what makes you an incredible seducer...Your ability to make others feel sexy is what really makes your seduction skills shine. Most people don't feel attractive or desired enough - a need which you tap into.You have the ultimate sex appeal, and getting attention from you is a total self esteem boost.Your confidence is contagious, and you help others unleash their own sexuality. Your sex pot seduction skills are so intoxicating that you can get away with... well, almost murder.Lovers feel like your sensuality is in your blood, so it's only natural if you flirt a little.And if you stray, that might be okay as well - as long as you make your lover still feel hot.

Okay, so I think the personality test [below] is pretty close to how I see myself.

Your Five Factor Personality Profile

Extroversion: You have high extroversion.You are outgoing and engaging, with both strangers and friends.You truly enjoy being with people and bring energy into any situation.Enthusiastic and fun, you're the first to say "let's go!" Conscientiousness: You have low conscientiousness.Impulsive and off the wall, you don't take life too seriously.Unfortunately, you sometimes end up regretting your snap decisions.Overall, you tend to lack focus, and it's difficult for you to get important things done. Agreeableness: You have medium agreeableness.You're generally a friendly and trusting person.But you also have a healthy dose of cynicism.You get along well with others, as long as they play fair. Neuroticism: You have medium neuroticism.You're generally cool and collected, but sometimes you do panic.Little worries or problems can consume you, draining your energy.Your life is pretty smooth, but there's a few emotional bumps you'd like to get rid of. Openness to experience: Your openness to new experiences is high.In life, you tend to be an early adopter of all new things and ideas.You'll try almost anything interesting, and you're constantly pushing your own limits.A great connoisseir of art and beauty, you can find the positive side of almost anything.

Don't Burst My Bubble

I wish I had my own bubble of space that I can crawl into, and escape.

No, that wouldn't be escaping. That'd be hiding.

Beside the point.

The point is, I'm finally getting inspiration, but I don't have a place to work in peace. My ideal novel completion date is April 7th. I have to write ten-twelve chapters. That means (from the time I started calculating, which was last week), I have to write one chapter about every three days. It been 7 days since I made this promise. What do I have done? Half a chapter. Four pages. Twelve point font.

I'll never finish this book. Sometimes, I'm just so sick of it, you know? I've been working on this for more than a year. I've written twenty-one chapters. The first fifteen chapters still need to be revised. That's going to take another few months. Just thinking about this gives me a headache. I want to be rid of all this. This book started as my jewel and my pride, but now it's become a heavy iron clasp around my neck.

I need to finish it. I need to finish it. I need to finish it.

I chant those words unconsciously, every second I'm awake. It gets annoying after awhile.

Unsent Letter

I have a picture of you in my mind. There, you are still perfect, not the tired Caesar you’ve become. Your hair hasn’t grayed yet in this make believe photograph. Your face isn’t swollen. Your eyes are bright, and young.

This image is your apogee. It’s how I see you when you’re not there. So, when I saw you latest, I stood there shocked and speechless. The foundations of my belief collapsed. I never knew gods aged. Now that you’re not in front of me anymore, I try to rebuild these crumbled remains, piecing together my deep devotion for you, a nonpareil.

To me, you’re the man whose words everyone follows as law. You’re the man who makes everyone laugh. You paint everyone’s gray canvasses with careless strokes of your brush. I love you so incredibly much because you represent the very core of what I want to be. You’re the image of my future, as well as the source of my beginning. I love you as a friend loves a friend, as a man loves an idol, as a girl loves her first crush. I’m not sure you know this—that you’re the epitome of masculine beauty to me, that I love you, that no one will ever measure up to you. I never tell you this, and you never ask. Sometimes, I want to spill it all out to you, this river of love, so badly that I ache. But I’m not vocal when it comes to true love. You aren’t either, so don’t blame me. In fact, I probably got this fear from you.

Maybe it’s because of all these things that I forgive you for everything you’ve done. Sometimes, I wonder why I was even born if you never wanted me. Wait, no, don’t answer that. It’s because of Mom, isn’t it? Without her, the words I’m writing wouldn’t exist; neither would the trembling hand that holds this pen.

Even after I was born, in all my naked glory, you didn’t love me. It wasn’t until you saw I had Grandmother’s long fingers that you smiled. I was so close to becoming garbage, the second daughter that’s nothing but bulk. That misfortune was so closely avoided that I shudder, and thank God for my fingers, how they look like your mother’s.

I send you the pencil sketches I draw, the pictures I take, and try to translate the things I write. Once, I emailed these things to you. Then, I waited with bated breath for your verdict on these endeavors. Good, you wrote back to me. Period

Good. Four letters with a punctuation mark at the end. What is good? How long did it take you to come up with those four letters? Maybe one day, I’ll draw a picture with all your ugliness. I’ll write a story with all your sins. Maybe then, I’ll get a reaction.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not unappreciative. I know you haven’t gotten a paycheck in years and years. I know you put Yuan into my bank account, ten thousand at a time. I know that, to do this, you conserve everything you can. You wear worn socks and tatty shirts. You lead an austere life for me. But don’t you understand that I don’t want money? I want you. I tried to tell you this before, but your cell phone vibrated.

“I have to take this call. It’s important.”

I smiled, nodded, and bit back my words, letting opportunity shut its window.

All of this doesn’t fix all the mistakes you made. Scars will always be scars, and they don’t go away. Though, I do wonder sometimes if I don’t understand your pain. I wonder if it really just kills you to stay home. Perhaps there’s some secret, logical explanation why you’re not there for me everyday, but just for those bimonthly phone calls.

I don’t know why I bother to write this. These words will never get to you. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not next year. I’m just too cowardly to send it. But then maybe it’s because I already know the reply.

G-O-O-D

Period.

Will This Vicious Cycle Never End?

Okay, so my post isn't going to be as dramatic as the title makes it sound.

I'm writing this so I can escape my math homework. My procrastination is really becoming a chronic problem. I probably get all the white hairs I do because of the constant stress I'm in. I'm always straining to finish my homework. I stay up really late every day so I can try to finish my homework. On the days that I'm fortunate enough to go bed by eleven, I lay in my bed, exhausted, but unable to fall asleep. And my memory isn't as it used to be. It takes me a lot longer to remember things now, and most things just slip away entirely.

I'm procrastinating even as I write this. How sad is that? I'm gonna get back to my math, now. I wanna be able to squeeze in seven hours of sleep. Ah, that might be too much to hope for.

Are you gonna be my girl?

Jumping for Joy

So, I won the Student Recognition Project for Creative Writing.
WHOO!
And, the thing is, I beat out a lot of writers that I deem amazing..

And, to the left of us is a self portrait I drew. My super artistic friend said it was good, so I think it must be. Okay, so it's not really a self portrait. It's a portrait of moi after undergoing cheek surgery. Smaller cheeks=Yay!

Girl's Best Friend (Part I)

Since this blog is called Diamonds and Dior, I decided...

Name: The Dazzling Miss De Young Red
Weight: 5.03 carats
Status: Taken. Hoarded by Smithsonian Museum.
Delectability: Third Largest Red Diamond in the world.

OooOooOooh!

My Spanish classroom is really, really hot.

I mean, it has to be tipping into the ninety degree border sometimes. It's hot to the point that when I have to peel off every layer of clothes I can without appearing indecent.

So here I was in the middle of class one day, fanning myself with my Spanish workbook and lulled by the voice of my Spanish teacher when suddenly, my eyes started roaming the outline of the guy sitting in front of me. My mind started to work itself in a frenzy. I mentally traced the hard outline of his jaw, the surprisingly graceful curve of his neck, the lazy 'u' that sloped onto his broad shoulders. The temperature in the room seemed to rise by a few degrees. The freckled expanse of his skin seemed soft and powdery. I had an uncontrollable urge to touch him.

In my mind's eye, I was touching him. I was placing my lips on his neck, skimming the silky skin, gently nipping his earlobes.

The temperature of the room rose again.

My hands were slipped under his shirt and possessively touched his chest, the hard muscles of his abs, and traveled to the band of his cotton boxers.

It was here that I came to a mental barrier. My fantasy wasn't going any further. Ew, stop, I told myself. Am I so desperate to get laid that I'm fantasizing about him? And in the middle of Spanish? Have some decency.

I considered this voice meditatively. Then, I thought about the unbearable heat of the room, the hypnotic voice of my teacher, and the lump of pure want stuck in my throat, so thick I couldn't swallow. Fuck off, I told the voice in my head.

Now, I can claim that I've had sex in my Spanish classroom. At least mentally.

A Case of Champagne (or Just a Bottle)

I've been having a pretty bad week. Contributing to this is the fact that I'm having problems with all my friends, I'm making bad grades for the first time in my entire life, I'm mad at myself for my lack of creative juices, and--most important of all--I'm pmsing. Some people get cramps before their period. I PMS like there's no tomorrow. My philosophy during these difficult times? Scream at as many people as possible.

Actually, I lie. My PMS officially ended this morning, sooo I've been feeling a lot more sane. Thank God. Anyways, getting back on topic, I've just been feeling depressed lately. Not as depressed as I once was, mind you, but unhappy all the same. Being unhappy makes me want to drink. Yesterday, I emptied out a bottle of champagne. It gave me the blissful high I needed, and the sleep that I craved.

But, of course, I have to wake up at three in the morning. So, basically, I slept like a log for...hmm...five hours? Bloody brilliant. And now I've turned British.

Here's what I really want to do. I want to scream. I can't do this in real life, but I'll do it here.



FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

God, it felt good to get it out of my system.

Disclaimer: If this somehow gets out, I deny everything. I'm just a lunatic, after all.

A Case of Absolute Shit

Have you let it all out, and then feel like complete shit afterwards?

I feel like complete shit.

One of my best friends has been bothering me with an attitude I would label as ''selfish''. The only thing is that she honestly doesn't do it on purpose. At least, that is what I believe. I really love her with all my heart, but sometimes when I'm with her, I want to hold her still and tell her solemnly, "Can you stop thinking about yourself for a moment?"

The fact that she does it unconsciously makes me bear this taciturn resentment. Things that happen with her would keep me awake at night, and I would toss and turn, imagining different scenarios were I can tell her off. I never do it. I'm not into confrontations. And, the fact is, I'm not a patient person. If I start with a confrontation nicely, it usually doesn't end that way. So, I nursed this little demon of annoyance inside me until tonight where I attacked her completely over a miniscule disagreement.

I feel horrible, because this is not at all how I imagined I would finally talk to her about her conduct. I never meant to hurt her feelings so completely. I never meant to, but things never really happen the way you want them to in life, do they?

She apologized to me, but the problem is that she doesn't see what I'm exactly mad at her about. It's so exasperating I want to cry. I wish I can videotape her, and then show her the tape, pausing at places to show her and tell her that I'm not a complete bitch that likes to pick fights over nothing at all. She doesn't see herself like I see her.

I think she's beautiful. I think she's creative. I think she's arrogant. I think she's incredibly funny. I think she's insecure. I think she's selfish.

But, God, why can't she understand what I'm talking about? Communication is the most important thing in relationships, aren't they? I guess, in a way, I understand why she doesn't get it. Today, I was told I am an attention whore. It came to me as such a shock. I never thought of myself as someone who likes to hold the center stage. But I am. It's difficult to swallow, but true. I guess...I guess some things need time to sink in. I want her to understand her own shortcomings so that she becomes a better person. God, that sounds so ridiculous, but it's true. It's what I feel.

And it's not only that. Her selfishness is really eating into the affection I feel for her. I love her x 1,000,000,00 but this might be the thing that really finishes our friendship. I don't want it to end. I just want her to pause every once in awhile and think about what others might be feeling. I want her to realize that she is not the only person that matters in the world.

So, now I feel like complete shit.

I told her she was selfish.

I have what I wanted.

Are things going to change? If so, for better or for worse?