I haven't updated in awhile. So, um, I guess I will now.

I am actually incredibly happy with my life. Yes, I know, I get up at six every morning and go to the same cinder-block hellhole as the rest of you, but it's not difficult for me (I never really have any homework, the lucky bastard I am). If I get up, drink the half pot of leftover paint thinner, or "coffee", and force myself to dress nicely and stand in the rain waiting for the bus, I tend to have a damned pleasant day. I meet Larkin in the morning, who is such a dear creature to bring me little bags of snacks to munch on through English discussion, and receive hugs and kisses, and if I can stand the hour of Mrs.Schnell's AP Essay Bullshitting Class, I can usually read an Anne Rice novel through US History (or, as it indeed interests me, just read through the textbook and learn some interesting things for myself rather than copying down vocabulary definitions that I already know, like "attrition" and "fuqtard") and still pass the class with a 95. I've got physics with Larkin now, so I just steal kisses and pretend to learn about electromagnetic fields, and exchange shoulder rubs at the end of class. Then I can eat, read my book for another period while absorbing the German language through osmosis, and then laugh at the incompetence of the choral masses with Sterling, who I think is beginning to become angsty and depressed enough to start wearing the same kind of clothes as I do. And I've got a B in algebra, remarkably. I read a lot of books.

The days don't seem so long anymore, really--I walk home to Larkin's after school and hang around, then I'm taken home to lounge around and listen to techno. The most work I've done in weeks was tonight: five homework assignments for algebra, which I intend to turn in late to instantly raise my grade six points.

I'm even optimistic about my future. Next year is going to be the easiest I've ever had, I think--I've got to take English IV, German II, Choir, Government, Speech, and a 3-period internship course at the Greenspoint Marriott. Tough shit, right? I'll be singing, pretending to pay attention, and washing dishes/doing prep work for chefs/talking to people.

I have a splendid master plan that may, if successful, allow me to attend any culinary school I wish. I'll sell my good looks to the modeling industry. Larkin and I plan to create a portfolio of me at the beginning of this summer, and who knows how much luck I'll have? Tall, long blonde hair, blue eyes. You guys've seen those big billboards advertising that ridiculous Tarzan guy. I'm sexier than him. But the point is, if I can make money with silly photo shoots and the like, I can pay for college, and at this point, it's my only hope. My parents are as poor as my grades, and somehow I think I would like to get out of this state for once in my life for college. More expensive, yes, but the best cooking schools are definitely not in Texas, and my life ought to be interesting, damnit! Travel! Road trip to the CIA in New York! To that cozy West Palm Beach place in Florida that's got 10 master chefs for teachers. I'd love to live in an urban atmosphere, and if I'm serious about the restaurant industry, that's probably where I'm going to end up, which is a nice prospect. I love the big city. New York thrilled me; it is my dream to be able to go to a Chinatown like that anytime I wanted to, just to look around. Or better yet, to pick up expensive ingredients for a special. I'm the kind of person that's mesmerized by the interesting things on the shelves at the grocery store--the lights and colors and little shops in the city are paradise for a sensualist like me.

So anyway, I've got my aspirations all organized, finally. I thought I wanted to be a computer programmer. Can you imagine? I used to be so boring. Dreaming of writing the code for Quicken 8. It's that girl, I tells ya! She's changed me so much for the better. I'm content without relying on the guidance of some silly old God or the damn Boy Scouts.