I hate keeping secrets from my blog, but I'm going to have to.

I'm so sick of looking at American colleges that all look roughly the same. I want to go somewhere unusual. I kind of want to go to England. Mexico would be my first choice, but there aren't really any good colleges there, and it's not all that safe. I want to do something really insane, like join a monastary or something. I want to pretend I'm a male drag queen for a few years. I want to move to Spanish Harlem. I want to teach sailing on the Hudson River. Nice campus-y colleges with quads and fraternities and social circles seem horribly monotonous.

I woke up sunday morning exhausted from saturday. I had double bags under my eyes and wore a plaid shirt and underwear all day. I didn't even bother to shower. I stayed inside from dawn 'till dusk doing work whenever I was able to concentrate and fell asleep in my sister's arms at one-thirty. I did get one break, though; after watching me do a day of doing nothing but college-oriented work, my dad sensed my exhaustion and used my SAT II books to prop up the slide projector and show me pictures of him and mom in Mexico and Italy before and after they were married. My mother was beautiful. She's sexier than I'll ever be. Her waist was tiny and her cheeks were full and she was really spunky and alive-looking. My dad didn't have any of the bitterness he has now--he was just happy and in love and in a country he'd never imagined seeing. I don't ever want to be bitter.

I'm terrified of getting my results back from the Scholastic competition, and I'm even more afraid of going to the ceremony.

I learned how to make tortillas today.

I feel lovely like my mother.

My heart really, really hurts.