So.  Walking around at Ala Moana, I was accosted by some weird guy who looked normal...as normal as you can look when you SMELL like PEE and BEER.

Anyway, he kept trying to tell me this sob story about how he lost all of his shit because a guy on the beach stole it from him, and I was like, "GET.  AWAY."

And then he tried to shake my hand, and I went, "Um.  No." and he was like, "Hehe, don't be shy!" and he grabbed it anyway!

So I wrenched my hand away and tried to turn to leave but he KEPT ON TALKING AND BOTHERING ME.

The moral of the story is this:  If you are a psychotic creep lacking the good sense to stop after one beer, DO NOT TRY TO PICK UP CHICKS, SCORE MONEY, OR JUST GET YOUR ROCKS OFF BY TALKING TO STRANGERS.

I was five seconds away from breaking his nose with the heel of my hand, and if you, Mr. Creepy Stalker Pervert, want to escape intact, I suggest you leave girls that you don't know ALONE.

Hot damn, it was a great night.  Seniors, we did a magnificent job, and we took almost everything!  I'm so happy.  My eyes welled up a little at the end.

Okay so that's a lie but whatever.

We sounded amazing and we managed to pull everything together wonderfully.

To my dear Jess, Kaena, and Andrew,
Without you we would have been utter crap.  You guys didn't settle for less and you pushed us to be as great as we were.  Thank you.

That was actually heartfelt, and now I feel weird.  And guess what?  I don't have my period, so you can tell it was true emotion.

At this point, everything on my computer screen and the twelve papers in front of me looks worse than Chinese, because IF it WERE Chinese, I would know that it actually means something and that someone is trying to communicate something to me.

Unfortunately, I no longer can tell what the differences between  compound, complex, compound-complex, and simple sentences are, because my poor little neurons have fired themselves to hell and are now fizzling pleasantly in my head.

You know what it feels like to look at your computer screen and have your pupils contract painfully, don't you?

Because that contracting feeling is what my brain feels like right now.

Please, just leave me alone while I fucking stab out my eyes with the corner of my keyboard.

Imagine that my mood thing says, "REALLY FUCKING DISTRESSED." instead of "distressed".

PS, JUST SO YOU KNOW, I HAD TWO LINKING VERBS IN JUST ONE SENTENCE.  BAD ME, BAD ME.

Art Show.  You should have come...the band was GREAT. 

No really.

PS, I was accepted to Humboldt.

I think you need something nice.

Bags:  $11
Prints:  $3-$6
Jewelry:  $5-$15

Just think about it.  Anything you might want?

I'm feeling the need to dance. 

This is what my eyebrows are doing:

Merde.

It's the best word for how mad I am about college fees.

Yay!  So.  Course catalog.  Keep it and treasure it and love it forever, okay?  Maybe frame it.  Try to sell it on eBay in a few years.

Well, at least make sure you cross out "Kesley"...

Because, you know...that's not my name.  Write "Parsley" instead.  It's my new alias.  That may as well be what they wrote down, since they can't even spell my name correctly.

Quelle day!

Humboldt
UH at Manoa
California College of the Arts
Lehigh
Ritsumeikan
Vassar

Vassar is my only dream dream dream.  We'll see how it goes, right?

I'd cry forever and ever if I didn't get into Humboldt...I mean, the average GPA is a 3.0.  Sadddddd!  And yet if I didn't get in, something MUST be wrong with me. 

UGH the wait is killing me and now I want to just see who accepts me and who doesn't FRICKKKKKKKKKK.