Giant, mega epiphany.

I was a total jerkface prissy prickwad of baloney in sixth grade.
I'm probably still that way.
Sixth to seventh grade was when I was at the peak of my rudeness. I just reread a whole bunch of my old chats, and one of the ones from when I was in sixth grade basically went like:

Friend: hey!
Me: hi.
Friend: so what's up?
Me: im busy
Friend: oh ok...but can i show you something? plzzz its important
Me: no, im busy
Friend: plzzz?
Me: OH. MI. GOD.
Friend: ...
Me: WHAT THE FREAK DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND ABOUT AWAY GOD UR SO ANNOYING
Friend: i didnt say anything...................
Me: OH MY GOD IM AWAY STOP BOTHERING ME

Yeah, it's safe to say that that's probably the reason I kind of had a reputation for being a tightass in school.
Although I do hope that I've changed now. "Changed" meaning completely and utterly changed. I don't want to be that girl that has the reputation for being really, really rude.

On another note: FISH BOWL!
Here's the general gist of what happened:
Went
Signed up for clubs
Got free candy from signing up
Decided to sign up for Red Cross for the free Milky Way bar
Decided to sign up for StuCo because it's just amazingly awesome
Decided to sign up for Science Club because...okay, seriously, what the hell was going on in my mind?
Wandered around
Found some friends
Latched onto said friends like superglue
Said friends literally tried to ditch me by walking very fast
Said friends claimed it was a joke
Said friends try this process about five times
Bell rings and we all go to the assigned homeroom
Seniors take roll ("Er...alright, you gotta help me with this one...Wuh..."; "Does it start with W? Because that's me. Just call me Michelle, though.")
Seniors explain about Westwood
Homeroom students play on phones
We go out of our homerooms and attempt to find our way downstairs
I lead everybody to a dead end
I'm booted off the Head Navigator position
We find our way downstairs
Everyone is packed into the gym
Cheerleaders start dancing for a "pep rally"
Boys ogle at cheerleaders' short miniskirts
Girls glare at cheerleaders for capturing boys' attention
Cheerleaders attempt to teach the class body a cheer that basically consists of shaking your butt/hips
Senior class president Rishi announces the "Party is onnnnnnnn!"
Senior class president Rishi starts pelvic-thrusting all the poor fishies
I get pelvic-thrusted
I gag in the corner
Senior class president Rishi takes off his shirt (don't worry, he was wearing two...which does strike me as a little odd)
Senior class president Rishi chases two girls around the gym
Everybody decides to steer clear of senior class president Rishi for the year
I lamely stand here, there, outside, eating, drinking, "dancing"--WHATEVER it is, I perform the action lamely
I mingle
I chatter
I watch boys play ping pong (yeah, they had ping pong tables set up)
I eat strawberries
I dance a little
I curse myself for wearing super skinny jeans
I drink some Sprite
I lose Kolencherry in the crowd, which is bad because I'm giving her a ride home
Found Kolencherry!
We go home
Er, she goes home and I go to my home
...I watch "August Rush" with my mom while trying to imitate the cheerleaders

Alright, maybe that last part wasn't totally related to Fish Bowl, but it was part of my eventful night. Gosh, can't wait for school to actually start, huh?

Sappy moment time!

I've even Chinese soap opera music in the background to accompany.
So maybe you guys can't hear it, since it's in my house (blame it on the gramma), but it's loud over here.
Loud.

So back before school ended in May, my friend who I shall only address as The Fox wrote me a letter. She wrote all of her close friends a letter, but it's still special, okay? And because you all love me and totally care about what I have to say, here's the letter. Ahe-ahe-ahem.

A Letter to Michelle 5/26/10
Dear Michelle,
Looking out over a crowd, it's easy to find the one person who stands out. That person is you.
The one person unafraid to stand alone, the one person who won't give up. The one person who can go wild on a dance floor, and the one brave person who charges into battle on their own.
You're gorgeous, beautiful, and clever. But what I admire most in you is your bravery. You're FEARLESS. Still, coming with your bravery will be problems. Fights you can't win. Remember this: standing alone can earn you respect, but if you push too hard in life, you'll find yourself standing alone for good.
Know what you have already, and don't go looking more. Value all you hold in your hand.
Dream BIG and go FAR.
Just don't leave me behind.

<3 [no, like an actual heart, not the text heart thingy]
[the actual name of said friend]

Anyways, there's sappy time. And bye-bye sappy time.
Sigh.
I love Foxy. *tear slips down face*
Of course, the tear thing would never actually happen. I was watching Season 6 Episode 1 of Grey's Anatomy on my phone this morning, the one where [SPOILER ALERT] George dies and Izzy wakes up and everyone's all bitter and morose and downright depressed, and I didn't even tear up. Alright, maybe a little. A teensy bit.
My point: I never cry at movies/TV/etc. It's technically not real. I mean, it feels real, but hey--I didn't even cry when Dumbledore died in Harry Potter! (Book and movie, fellas. Booya.)
And technically, that wasn't a spoiler, because if you don't know that already, that's just sad.

Alright, I'm gonna leave now. Because this is getting as awkward as my phone coversation with Kolencherry last night.
ME: ...and so I'll call you when Phoenix calls me.
HER: Yeah, okay.
ME: Okay.
HER: Ohhhhkay.
ME: *cough* Yup. Okay.
HER: Alrighty.
ME: Yeah.
[silence]
ME: Okay, then see you.
HER: Oh, yeah, bye.
ME: Buh-bye.
HER: Uh huh.
[silence]
ME: Seriously, bye. [hangs up]

Yeahhh, I'm not so smooth in the telephone call area. But when it comes to real life--ka-pow! I'm as smooth as yo momma's leg after I shave it for her. *wink*
Alright, yeah, that...that wasn't even...I'll leave now.

DAM IT I'M-SUCH-A-LOSER ALL,
BEAVER

asdfghjkl;

I just did a keyboard glissando.
Like a piano glissando, except on the keyboard.
Booya.

Anyhoo, I'm a mega mofo when it comes to editing. I'm helping TK with her new project, "Oh, the Life of a Kolencherry". It's awesome. It has a guy named Cole in it. And a girl named India.
I've always wanted to name my children after countries. I.e., India, Korea, Afghanistan.
Maybe not the last one.
Whatever.

Aghified. That's like "Agh", but -ified. Booya.
Booya.
Booyaya.
Boobooya.
^Ha ha, that's like BOOBooya.
Boob-ooya!
Boob-ooya!
Huzzah!
Huzzah!

I may or may not have eaten gummy vitamins with extra sugar tonight.
They're yummy in my tummy, oh they're gummies.
BOOB-OOYA!

BEAVERBEAVER <--double beaver
That'd look a little weird, wouldn't it?

D.I.A.,
BEAVER

Oh, holy jeebus sauce.

I just had an epiphany.
HJ has no plot.
No direction.
No bread crumb trail.

LIKESERIOUSLYWHERETHEHELLAMIGOINGWITHITMAN???



I am now freaking out.
Deep breaths. It'll all be fine with a couple—
Save your mo-foing breathing exercises, I'm having a pre-life crisis here.
I was just trying to help you, you ungrateful son of a—
I'm a vagina-possessing female, thank you.
*And schizo scene cuts.


WHATAMIGOINGTODO???

Hello, my name is Wenzhao.

It's on the attendance sheet.
Seriously.
What, you thought you were the only one with a horribly inconvenient legal name? No. Not a chance. I take the cake. At least people THINK they can pronounce. On the first day of school, depending on what kind of teacher it is, the conversation goes a little like the following examples.

Example One: The Quitter
TEACHER - ...Francisco Yang.
CISCO - Here.
TEACHER - Wen...Wen...ahem, last name Zhang?
ME - Uh, here. And it's pronounced Wenzhao. Like, um, when-zow. Or when-joww. The proper pronunciation is when-joww, but--
TEACHER - Kevin Zhuang?
KEVIN - Here.

Example Two: The Stereotyper
TEACHER - ...Francisco Yang.
CISCO - Here.
TEACHER - Uh...alright, you've gotta help me here. Wenadhfjahrewiuljfhnidsd.
CLASS - ...Who the crap is that?...Oh my god, are they some kind of freak from Poland?...I hope they're not anywhere around me...
ME - [sheepishly] Um, yeah, that's me.
TEACHER - That's lovely. Do--you--speak--Eeeeenglish?
ME - ...
TEACHER - Kevin Zhuang?
KEVIN - Here.

Example Three: The Rambler
TEACHER - ...Francisco Yang.
CISCO - Here.
TEACHER - Oh. Oh, um...
ME - I think that's me...the W name?
TEACHER - Oh, yes! What ethnicity are you?
ME - Uh, um, Chinese.
TEACHER - That's wonderful! My son lives in China. Beijing, in fact. Were you born in China?
ME - Um. Yeah. Beijing.
TEACHER - Lovely! You know, my son's wife is Chinese. She was born in Guangzhou. Beautiful place, though a bit crowded. Of course, they live in Beijing now. He's a landscape photographer, darling occupation. She's...well, she sells purses on the street. Not exactly the best upbringing, but it...
ME - [thinking] "Beautiful place, though a bit crowded"? No duh. I mean, it's China; we spawn babies every Friday. And then get rid of the previously made babies by sending them to orphanages. We're a motherfreaking baby factory. Is she still talking? Oh my god, it's been half an hour. Might as well doodle on my notebook. La di da di da...TURD! She's looking at me. What...what did she say?! Um...uh...uh huh.
TEACHER - I asked where your grandparents reside.
ME - Oh.
TEACHER - Kevin Zhuang?
KEVIN - Here. Wait, why am I saying "here" over and over for this stupid blog post? Seriously, Michelle, quit it out.
CISCO - I know! Why use me and Kevin anyways? Can't you use, uh, that weird kid in your old gym class!
TRISTAN YANEZ - Hey!
KEVIN - Jesus, I'm sick of the word "here" now. Thanks a lot, third grader.
KEVIN XIE (the creator of my very oh-so-creative nickname, "third grader") - Hehe. He.

Alright, so maybe some of that didn't happen. But it does in my mind.
That just makes me sound schizo.
I'm not.
Just a little.

DAM IT FIRST-DAY-OF-SCHOOL-ATTENDANCE ALL,
BEAVER

Hello, my name is Dilina.

-Hello, Dil-ee-nuh.
-No, no, it's dil-nuh.
-Dil-nuh?
-Yeah.
-But shouldn't it be dil-eh-nuh or something?
-No. It's DIL-NUH.
-Dil-nuh? Oh. Gee. Yeah. That's. Um. That's a delightful name ya got there.
-...
-Alright, take your seat now, Diana.


Now that school is about to start, I get to go through at least three weeks of THAT.
It's the same each school year.
And better is when I'm sat in the back of the class, and the teacher has to come directly to my side to hear me because I've a soft voice. "Come again?"
And I try to say it louder and by then everyone's looking at me. "Dil-nuh."
"I didn't catch that. One more time?"
"It's dil-nuh, you motherfucker."
"You're going to have to speak up, dear."
And one of these days, I just might have to go Columbine on these people.






My life summed up in a blog post.

Gee, I'm bored.


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