EMC hatin’

Yeah, our ‘friendship’ is long over.

She hates me. In return, I do nothing. She will be a stranger to me. Someone I say hi too, and don’t expect anything from.

We went to a review session yesterday. I have a sprained ankle. She refused to give me a ride home. End of story. B***h slap right there.



So I had a meet on Thursday.

Got so close to sub-17 I could taste it last meet, so I was absolutely determined this time. I wanted to prove so bad to Coach F that I was varsity league material. I was #4, after all, and top 4 are varsity!

And ya know what? I killed those JV (like usual), but I PRed with a 17.5! BOOM. That’s puts me on #2, OVER NB with a 17.75 by like .25 seconds! I AM UNTOUCHABLE and I AM GOING TO LEAGUE and I WILL GET THAT VARSITY LETTER, DAMMMIT.

And 300’s? I talked to coach, and she said with training, she thinks I could get to league with that too! ran a 52.6, which would have put me on third (and league bound). Sucks, though, that because it was hand-timed, it goes into the book as 52.74, in #7. DANG.

Whatevs, cuz’ EMC, the little twit, runs like a 57 each time and tells me every time that it’s ‘just not a good week’ for her. Every time. Yeah, right.

I need to calm down.

Summer Plans

Eventful week.

Got into Interlochen High School Summer Piano Program! It’s supposed to be extremely competitive, so that’s great.

On the other hand, also got into the Brown Pre-college Program. Not sure about that one. It’s apparently not very competitive, and really just for rich kids who could pay.

Decisions, decisions. My dream for summer 2014, though: go to Africa to get experience in a clinic and teaching English through music! So stoked. I was accepted this year, but my over-protective mother said outright no, sadly. Something about getting my organs stolen.

Mean Girl (singular)

You know how all the adults are always saying how the world wants to be nice to you, and that you should get over your fear because everyone’s rooting for you?

I just found out that’s not true.

I mean, sometimes it is. For most of this year, I was focusing on getting over my fear that nobody likes me. I said hi to people I knew, instead of obsessing over whether they actually wanted to admit they knew me. In return, I talked to people who didn’t always look attractive to me, because I genuinely wanted to get o know them. And I came to find that people genuinely wanted to know me, and if not, everyone always wants more friends, right? It’s true: People want friends.

And I’m happy to say that it totally worked. I have many more friends in my classes, and I’m a happier person all around.

But today, I discovered some people are just strange.

In happened in the locker room, after a nice, pleasant day. I got there, smiling, asked girl SG if the pile of clothes on the floor was her stuff. Now, let it be known that girl SG is known for being a b***h, a drama-queen, and eternally hard-core PMSing.

She said that yes, it was. I then nudged it to the side to make room for me in the aisle. I started to change. Nothing unusual.

My friends come from another aisle. They’re out of breath, laughing. One begs me for a water bottle. She wants to pour it on the other. The other begs me not to. I laugh, grab an empty water bottle on the bench and toss it to the two for them to fight over. “Thanks!” tey yell, “We’ll fill it up for you and bring it back!” They hustle off.

Enter girl SG: “Wait, was that my water bottle?”

A red flag went up. Her voice sounded irked. For anyone else, I would have laughed it off, no big deal. For SG, I was still in a good-natured mood, though cautious.  “Oh, was it? Sorry. I just saw it and took it. They’ll bring it back later.”

“Wait, so that was my water bottle, and you just gave it to someone?”

Hold up. She was pissed. I still wasn’t sure if she was joking at this point yet, so I said, “Yeah. Sorry, haha.” Laughed. Smiled. Smiley face jk.

“Um, you can’t just go around taking my water bottle. I filled it up and it’s mine, and you just took it.”

“Wait, it wasn’t filled, are you sure it was yours?”

“It was mine, I know it was filled, and you – “

I had thought it wasn’t filled at the time, so I grabbed at what I saw as a way out. “Oh, then it wasn’t yours. It was empty.”

By now I knew she was serious. And mad. Very mad. But why the F*** is she mad at something like a that? I’m at a loss for words, just so confused at what was happening. My friend JR jumps in.

“Calm down, SG, it’s just a water bottle. And they’re bringing it back, filled, for you.”

SG blows up. “It’s not that she took my water bottle, ok? It’s that she just came in, kicked all my stuff out of her way, then gave someone my bottle! And then, she tries to tell me that it’s not mine, like it’s hers, after I filled it! She is so annoying, she thinks the whole world revolves around her, she – “

Now like 5 people are looking on with pity. “Chill out,” they tell SG. “It’s not a big deal.” And it wasn’t. Anyone else would have laughed it off, thought it was funny when my friends came back, one completely soaked, both gasping for air between laughs. They return the bottle. It’s now filled. I take it.

“Here. I’m sorry for taking your bottle.” I offer it to SG.

“I don’t want it.” She’s got this bratty voice.

“Why? It’s filled. I’m sorry if you were mad I took it, I didn’t know.”

Another rant, similar to the first. I cut her off.

“Look, I’m going to let us both chill out for a while, and if it’s still a problem, we can talk about it later when we’re both calmer.” It was perfectly set, just like the Health and Personal Relations textbook. No accusing, no ‘you’, no anger in my voice (maybe a little slipped into my furrowed eyebrows, but hey, I’m not perfect).

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Right there, I was over it. Hey, I’d tried, hadn’t I? “Ok, well I still don’t know why you’re mad over a stupid water bottle, and I’ve already tried apologizing and if you don’t take it, then, well, sorry, there’s nothing I can do for you.”

Right there, I’ve screwed myself over. I want to yell at her, but I catch a friend’s meaningful glance my way, and I turn to someone else and start up another conversation.

She’s probably telling the whole team about how I shoved her stuff away, then snatched her bottle and threw it away, and screamed at her. I would know; I’ve heard her talk smack about just about everyone.

Awesome. My first taste of drama.


Cooks and Stuff

I’m having a great time without my parents.

The independence is great, the freedom is great. My brother is pleasant and easy to work with.

The food is great.

Caramelized onions with carrots and thyme, caramelized onions with brussel sprouts, caramelized onion-zucchini-mushroom quiche, over-easy eggs on toasted bread with apricot spread and feta…I’m loving it.

I don’t miss my parents at all. Is that normal?


It’s unbelievable how much one’s life can be like a movie.
As of now, the storm is over; we are past the hard part. For now.
But let me start from the beginning.
Monday morning, 6 am. I wake up early to yelling. I sleepwalk out of my bed, out into the main entrance hall. My dad is sitting on the stairs, my mom across the entire house on the other side of the upper stairs, my brother blocking both from getting at each other. “Fucking whore, she took my money, she doesn’t let me be happy…” my dad is screaming at my brother, at my mother, at no one in particular. It’s a speech we’ve all heard before countless times trapped in the car on the way to various extracurriculars, or on other occasions like this one. This time was different.
My mother stands there, takes it. We go to school. My dad tranforms into this pleasant guy, have-a-nice-day…but I can’t ever respect him. It’s a vicious cycle. On the way out, though, I’m worried. A few words, said casually as he drops us off: “Get mommy to give me the money, or she might not be here when you get back.”
I go through school, joke with friends, the usual. I come home, worried. He can’t actually do anything physically, of course, but I know how much words hurt her. More than anything.
She’s gone. He’s gone. This is quite average for us. I make dinner and do homework, after calling my mom. She’s spending the night away and leaving the next day to China for a reunion (planned), but not coming home. She’s scared.
I pack a few things that I know she forgot (I know her). After convincing her to come and get the bag I pack, I then nag her to check her papers.
Her passport is missing. After searching in vain for near an hour, we come to the conclusion that Dad took it.
After calling him, we get a terse answer. He’s gone. Not anywhere specific, just gone. They go to track him down while I stay at home and wait. He has a gun.
10 pm, he appears. He just comes home. I sit there, not quite knowing what to do, but I decide to act normal. Where did he go? Nowhere. Why did he leave? Silence. He sits, staring at the TV.
My mother goes to the police station, files a report, then spends the night sleeping in her car with the provisions I’ve packed for her.
In the morning, she confronts him. He denies. Where did he go? Silence. Did he take the passport? Silence. Then an outburst: “I didn’t take your fucking passport! Where’s the proof? Huh? No proof!”
It was so hilarious, in an ironic way. He was so obviously guilty, standing there, denying it to hell, screaming at a simple question. That’s comedy, right there.
I go to school, late. The teacher gives me a condescending glance. He’ll never know.
I call them at break. They’re going to the airport. How? She’s given him what he wanted: the money. 100,000 cash, and half of our everything, all to him. He wants to travel the world and spend it all. He thinks he’s dying or some shit like that.
So she’s gone, and I’m thankful that she’s now safely in China. My dad is now gone, off to sell a house we own so he can pocket the cash.
And we are home alone. Finally.