Note: I saved this blog entry as a Word document and when all of my 2007 entries were deleted, I reposted this.

That is how old I am now and it’s a scary thought. According to my grandma I am the only person on Earth below the age of twenty that dreads getting older. My dad also strongly agrees with her.

Part of me still wants to scream WHAT DO YOU KNOW! but when I did at my birthday party last Friday most of my relatives and close family didn’t look so amused. They don’t understand, anyway. In fact, I don’t think anybody does. It’s sad and lonely, here in the land of mindblowing age-paranoia.

So we had home-made pizza and they gave me some money; birthday parties with the family are a strange business, aren’t they? Why don’t you go buy yourself something pretty? (apparently speaking to the ten-year-old in me) and Save this for university next year! (talking to the grown-up, normally developping, reasonable, intelligent young woman somewhere hidden in me). What a night.

On Saturday, my closest friends and I went out to my favorite cocktail bar and had a great time. I hadn’t been to the bar for quite a while so I didn’t know they always had a guest DJ on Saturday nights now. He was awesome and looked deliciously gorgeous - as does everybody these days, it seems. What is up with all the girls and their super-slim ankles wrapped carefully into real leather ankle boots and all the natural and classy make-up, the tight and dark jeans, the honey-colored, shiny hair? Show-offs.

So anyway, the music was extremely well in tone with the bar and the cocktails and the laughter and talking and the expensive designer food and the low lights. I tend to not like DJs because they usually mess up the atmosphere at places that don’t usually have DJs but, man, this one seriously knew what he was doing. He also used an Apple laptop which made him that much hotter.

Seeing the blue light of the Apple sign glow through the bar, disappearing and reappearing between heads and waiters and waitresses carrying around the most spectacular creations, almost had a nostalgic feel to it. A reassuring glow, it was.

I do hate getting older, though, and the sheer knowing of the fact that soon I will cross that fine line between ages; the age when you’re officially an adult but everybody accepts your childish behavior just as well and the age when you’re officially an adult and damn better behave that way, too. I hate that line and I hate coming closer to crossing it.

Note: I saved this blog entry as a Word document and when all of my 2007 entries were deleted, I reposted this.

I’m not a bowling professional, I am actually so far from it that I should probably consider a career in damaging bowling alleys by dropping 50-pound bowling equipment on them with vehement continuity. But to me bowling is a strangely complicated yet surprisingly basic-instinct kind of sport.

Take a ball, throw it. Try to hit as many pins as possible. Sounds like something kids would do. Something you’re playfully encouraged to do as a toddler because it’s so cute and surely it’ll help grow billions of new synapses that’ll make little you a genius one day. It is the little things that count.

And because bowling is something so simple, so let’s-break-a-perfectly-arranged-something-and-make-a-lot-of-noise, so obviously stimulating one’s basic instincts - who would be more perfect to play than men?

Even though History is mandatory for everyone at school, at yesterday’s class meeting at the bowling alley there were more males than females and the men sure knew how to kick ass.

Now, what I am about to tell you will either make you nod knowingly in agreement or gross you out and leave this website for good.

The sport of bowling naturally requires for players to sort of slide across the floor and, right before you throw the ball in a classy fashion, bend over while squatting. Did that make sense? I will admit that it does not explain why this entry’s title implies that bowling is a beautiful sport.

For you to be able to comprehend why it is, in fact, very beautiful, you need to know that only Abercrombie&Fitch type of guys attend my History class. I don’t know why. We certainly do not have very many good-looking senior guys at my school (and everything below the age of 19 is just not good in so many ways).

The ones in my History class are not as smooth and boring as Abercrombie models, though, which gives them the extra that makes you want to lick them all over.

So, a few nights ago, when all of us went bowling together and each and every one of them did the slide-bend-squat-throw-routine in endless repeat while casually showing their boxers, I thanked God for casually low, right-beneath-the-hip-bone sitting jeans.

And I don’t even care what you’re hinking of me now. That was a great night.

Note: I saved this blog entry as a Word document and when all of my 2007 entries were deleted, I reposted this.

Iplan on really changing things around here at my priority-one hide-away, further on referred to as Hide-Away Improvements. There’s a new theme on the way (which I hate; I seem to be losing PSP skills by the second) and my nineteenth birthday is tomorrow (which I hate as well; WHO LIKES GETTING OLDER AND OLDER AND OLDER?!) - both call for changes, don’t you agree?

All my online projects need to finally be finished and released appropriately. I’m currently trying to figure out how to include them into one website; and if they should ne included here or sperated. The thing is that I’m going to have to add some portions of all the disorganized stuff I run online to my portfolio once I start applying at different universities - although I’m really not going to go through much of an applying process as I only have one school I want, it’s either that or a-year-off-to-find-myself. Go figure.

So the question is, Do I want the people who are going to decide whether I can attend a certain university to read about my disfunctional life on this blog? Probably not. But do I want to have to keep track of fifteen billion (okay, six) different websites while trying to graduate? HELL NO.

On top of the life-alteringd ecisions concerning this website - I wish I was kidding - all kinds of appointments and things-that-need-to-be-taken-care-of-immediately keep piling up right in front of me and I can’t grab a hold of anything, let alone take a minute to catch my breath.

We had a meeting for our AZ (yearbook for the seniors) yesterday that was cancelled last minute. But it sill counts because, technically, I prepared for it and made arrangements which consumed quite a bit of my free time. Tomorrow, my French class is obliged to watch the French AP class perform a French drama on stage after school, so there! again! - I do love French, though, so it’s okay.

That same night, however, my History class as well as another History class meet at Bowling at the Boulevard - just for fun. I love off-school class meetings because everybody is so much more relaxed, especially the teachers. But it’s my birthday and I’m kinda torn between going and skippin for the benefit of my family who never even gets to see me anymore.

On Friday, I’m celebrating my birthday with all the beloved relatives, on Saturday I’m having a girls’ night out at our favorite cocktail bar with my closest friends.

The week after, I need to do two major presentations at school (Social Studies and French). We do have Thursday and Friday off because Thursday is a national holiday but Thursday night I’m invited to a DVD marathon night.

Now, I love doing all these things, don’t get me wrong. I never used to be this active and involved with people from school and it feels great. It has been so much recently, though, that I had to cancel on two birthdays just last week (WHAT IS IT WITH ALL THE PEOPLE HAVING THEIR BIRTHDAYS IN OCTOBER?).

There’s just not enough hours in the day.

PS - I bet you were wondering, WHAT THE HACK? SIX DIFFERENT WEBSITES? HOW COME SHE NEVER TELLS US ABOUT THEM? Well, here’s the deal, start counting: this website, my cooking website, my photography portfolio, my school’s class of 2008 website, my school’s class of 2008 forum, my school’s official website for Student Representation. It’s a shitload of work, trust me. And after all the complaining, maybe I should mention that I love being busy. It’s a vicious circle, really.