Some thoughts on my layout:

entry 218 name: . email: . url: http:// message: dont generilize guys. you know that some havent hurt you and your still trashing them....

oh nonono, Mr. Boy, first off you can't spell, (not that I have any idea who you are)- the boys I'm talking about here are the ones who look deeply into our eyes and say they love us, when they're really saying "put your hand on my MANHOOD." The ones who "love us and leave us". I have plenty of guy friends, and they're amazing. I'm talking about boys in relation to um, relationships here- not boys in general, as just some random boy.

and then, of course, there's the cool people,

entry 219 name: Veronica email: url: http://vnichols.diaryland.com message: the new layout is cute. and, rest assured that the "nice guys" that bitch about your poem, probably aren't half as nice as they *think* they are. date: 2:51 pm - Monday,January 6, 2003

She's right- if you whine about the poem, how "nice" could you possibly be?.. anyway

I'm going to write a real entry since I have time to do so now.

The last time I got up early to write a paper, or atleast finish one, was 6th grade MOSAIC team. I was fighting for an A then, as well... and as you can obviously guess, it was much easier in 6th grade. Especially on the MOSAIC team, but I'm not complaining. I loved sixth grade, despite the fact that it was in USC. I was thinking about USC the other day... see, mom got these Kennywood tickets for us, and we're supposedly going to Kennywood day now, and then I remembered in 7th grade how, when I was going to go to Kennywood day, someone said "Well, Liz, noone really wants to be seen with you"

Two years later, and you know what USC? Fuck you.

Wouldn't they all love to see me now? I'm not who I was- I'm not saying I'm miss perfect or anything special, but I'm not a loser anymore. I'm not rude to people, and I'm not horrendously ugly as I used to be. Something snapped when I moved here. I'm not sure what it was, I may have come to the realization that trying to impress others has no worth,- and you know what? Talk really IS cheap.

I remember in 4th grade I used to make greeting cards on the computer and sell them to the class for funny money, or a quarter, whatever anyone offered. I was always jealous of Stephanie Woelfel, she wasn't even that pretty, but everyone liked her. She was sort of mean to me, so I tried even harder to be nice to her. Damnit! I'm so happy I moved from there, it seems like, the lower you grovel, the harder you're kicked. If you don't 'grovel', and pretend these people don't exist, everyone will pretend YOU don't exist and you're stuck alone by yourself, with a friend here or there.

It's not like that here. If you're nice to people, they'll be nice back, unless they're assfucks and there are like what, 5 of them. And, they're all Sophomores. Even people you've gotten in fights with are still civil to you (it's not like Ivan and I couldn't still talk even when we were mad at each other- that is saying something, man).

Sorry about the rant. I had to get that out, and there's more shit I have- to thank USC for fucking me up, for giving me this insecurity that I live with that I'm ugly and retarded and that I'll never go anywhere in life, and that I'm a loser, that people are talking about me, laughing about me- but noone is! No one here wastes their breath laughing about someone else, unless this person rreaaallllly deserves to be laughed at (me and Sasha can think of a few people... )

I have shit in my contact lenses because I didn't take them out, I just fell asleep. I drank coke this morning for the first time in a while, so I'm awake now, and my teeth are probably getting gross.

Ah whatever! We had testing today, it was so easy, thank goodness- because I was mad cold, being the only one that wore a skirt and all! (hahaha Andrea)... but it's cool. I liked my outfit:-)

Today (aka tomorrow) (or whatnot), I'm wearing thick jeans and a sweater. And glasses, since my contacts have to come out, and they have to sit for 4 hours.

ah! you know what makes me mad? I can't be on the bus home until like.. Friday... because I have a meeting in the N building today, and tomorrow I have editor- no wait, I'm not going to that because Brooke won't be there and I won't know what to do. Sooo.. okay I'll be on the bus home Thursday. I really wanna talk to Sasha, about nothing in particular, I just wanna talk to her...lol

I wonder how the bball game went for Lauren, if she could find anyone to go with her. I would have, but I got home too late- and I tried calling... hmm, I wonder how it went? Man, I wanna hang out with Lauren this weekend, maybe Saturday we can get together with Laura, or something, go to the mall, talk about life in the pizza shop. (as in, talk about the topic life while we eat pizza, not talk about what it living in the pizza shop is like, I'd hope we wouldn't know about that)

I need to get more sleep, but stuff comes up. I wanna keep a social life, and get A's, you know, that's pretty damn hard.

I have math homework, which won't be due until Thursday because of testing, but I'd like to get it done so it's done, and not have to do it later, although I DO have two study halls on Thursday... the one today I pan on using to study for a journalism test. I'm so tired of journalism, honestly, I've considered not taking it next year and using that space for another elective that I might like more. I might, however, just be tired in general, and you need to be awake and excited to be a journalist,- because I've really liked journalism when I've gotten enough sleep. The yearbook is just horribly boring. I want to be on the newspaper- I want to interview people and drive around State College looking for a story. THAT sounds a lot more exciting than tweaking a layout. Although, layouts aren't too bad. Yesterday everyone left except for the two main yearbook editors and I- they were working on the very first page of the yearbook and I helped a little:-). It's kinda cool to know that my suggestions, even if they weren't used, helped to craft the yearbook- everyone will have one, and it will last forever. In 30 years I can look at this yearbook, at the Freshman section and say - hey - that topic question, that was my idea- that spread, the basic gist of its meaning, that was my idea, too. I have to say that Brooke and Poloma did most of the work, because noone ever bothered to tell me when they went at odd times- but hey. I did work a lot on the surveys- so when you see those percentage numbers on the pages...that's all me, baby.

I still wanna be on newspaper.

It's about 5 in the morning now, in half an hour I'm gonna jump in the shower (woo that rhymed). Speaking of "woo" or, more likely, "wooo", I wonder how Maria has been? I hope she wasn't too offended at my USC rant- it's really how I feel about the place. Even though I wasn't nearly pretending that I like it, I still needed to get that off my chest. I don't like Em or Mar any less for it, I still want to be their good friend- and I still want to see them! I have Christmas gifts for them and everything! Ah.

I still have that pimple. It hurts like ... um. It hurts a lot.

Okay, now to my problems which aren't that important but I think I'll whine about them anyway.

Boys ... oh man. NO man- they're all little boys. I feel so stuck in my situation, like I'm forever bound to liking stupid Nate in vain. Hillary asked me tonight if I still like him, and yeah, I do- but it's not like... it's one of those "can't get over them"- it's not one of those "oooh a boy i think I have a chance with him, he's hot, he's really nice" etc kinda things. See what I mean? She says someone else likes him, and whatever, that's cool, I just wish I knew who it was. (Not so I can go talk to them, just so I can...know. I don't know why I want to know... I just do. It's weird). I know of some people that like him but.. I dunno, they might be who she's talking about. (can you tell I thought about this?)

I desperately want to move on, but there seems to be nothing to move on to. I'm stuck and I hate this. It almost makes me mad how I can't just let go- but in order to do so, I need to find something else to hold on to. That's just the way I am. You know what? There's nothing else. So. I'm stuck. I wish he'd move away or get a hernia or something so he wouldn't be around for a little while. That might help.

I'm looking at a picture of me when I was maybe 8 or something, an Angel in the nutcracker- when I used to be a ballerina. Well, as much of a ballerina that you can be when you are 8. Wasn't being 8 so amazing? Or 9, or 7. Once you hit 10 life began to kinda suck, and then 12 and 13,- most of us were horribly drama-queenish by this time. But! 7. Wow. Actually, no. I hated everything when I was 7 i think, was that 2nd grade? I lived in damned upper saint clair and I was never fucking happy when I was little, everyone hated me and treated me like I was a piece of trash. This still makes me mad, can you tell? I was fucking nine years old and insecure as hell. The PROSPECT of being 8, 9 or 7 is great- but unfortunately it never was for me... when I stop to think about it, I come to this realization, damn! I didn't know any better, I thought there really was something wrong with me! I thought that I really was messed up, I mean, there had to be SOME reason people were so mean, right? Maybe I was messed up. I don't know. I have a theory as to why I was, as to why I changed, but I don't want to get into it right now. I'm just happy that it is clear to me now the worth of a person, and even 'losers' should be treated with respect- isn't that what we all secretly want? To be respected and to get along with everyone? To not be picked on? That's why these people bring guns to school, they were teased, and they got tired of the disrespect. They may give other reasons, but it all comes back to being treated like a lesser being. Out of all the pressures in this world, that from your peers is the worst by far.

THIS is what happens when I am given time to write a real diary entry. Ha... hahaha....

I should get going and take a shower soon. Hopefully dad will wake up and he can edit my paper, and mom can read it- then I can go into the computer, revise my baby, and print out four copies for class. This is not my final draft, at all. We have like 90586057896 editing days, and twice that amount of chances to fix any mistakes. I still feel as if I haven't gotten my full point across- I wanted this to be full of feeling and passion, but it's only just whispering when I'd rather it be screaming.

Maybe I'll learn how to fix it. As of now, I'm at a loss for words when it comes to how I feel about my subject. It doesn't seem like I can do him justice.

I'm actually going to go this time, much love-

Liz

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