Three hours into my horrific experience driving Golf Cart Shuttle during visiting day at my camp I could only think of one thing-- I vollunteered for this shit.

It just turned out that on this day that featured non-stop rain I acquired the only golf cart that had no top on it. In my soaked state, I recieved quite a few laughs from dry people who found my plight very amusing. I probably would have found it funny, too.

See, I thought it would be fun. First of all, they told us it would only be two hours: From 9:30 to 11:30. I didn't really want to miss that time at the bunk, because it is sort of the time where you meet the parents and schmooze in order to set up a tip later in the day. Later, though, the Head Counsellor informed me that our time on the golf carts would end when "people stopped needing rides." Translation: Never.

I continued on, though. Plugging away. One person tipped me for giving him a ride at the golf cart, but then I was forced by my superiors to leave him down at the gate in order to help other people in need of help. I felt bad, but what could I do? Everyone thinks their needs are so much more pressing and immediate than those of others.

Eventually, we were called to the office and they got other people to drive golf carts and relieve us. I think I would have just got off and left the cart in front of the office at some point had they not done that. Not a very good day. Not a very good day at all.

The man conflict in my house has always been between my mother: the spender, and my father: the saver. Earlier in my life, I always sided with my mom. Why? Because I was a selfish child and I was the one reaping the benefits of her spending. Now, I remain more neutral. I see both of their points and I'm going to examine them right now. 

Yesterday I went to the doctor because of a concern of mind. I was unable to sit down comfortably because of a pain near my tail-bone. Yes, there. There was obviously some humor in this, but also some fear. A small bump that has been there for about two weeks made me ask my parents to schedule a visit with a doctor. If I ever find any kind of bump in an irregular place, I think one thing: cancer. Obviously it's not that, or this would be a much different entry. Either way, though, I went through a period of fear followed quickly by a rational calm. The doctor said it was just an "abcess" that would require anti-biotics and possibly a draining by a general surgeon if the anti-biotics don't make it go away. Better than cancer.

Anyway, though, the doctor did things a little weird. As soon as he came in, he asked me to pull down my pants. Being that I had told him that the obstruction was in that certain place, I found that completely normal. But then, he did something wasn't that normal. He went right in there and started feeling around my tail-bone "area" with NO GLOVES. Even worse, after that, he didn't watch his hands afterward. That grossed me out quite a lot.

Two days ago, I went to the dentist. After a two year reprieve from dental visits, I return with not a one cavity. Quite a victory, if you ask me.

A check-up with my regular, glove-wearing, hand-washing doctor is this Friday. Fingers crossed.

For the past few day, as I have been driving with my father up to my school to engage in a set of tennis, we have both notived a dead duck on the side of the road. The duck is just off to the side, to the point where small parts of it are in the lane that we are in when taking our normal route. I'm fairly certain we have not ran over any part of the dead duck during our voyages, though. Originally, I had seen the dead duck during by myself, prior to the vacation, leaving me to wonder how long the duck has been there.

I have also wondered about the logisitics of the duck's death. It must have been run over in some way, but my question is "where?" Was it run over in the same spot that it is resting now? Was it run over in the middle of the road and then did it struggle to it's long-time spot? Either one of these is a possibility. Maybe it wasn't an accident. Maybe it was bird-flu. My dad said that might be one reason why nobody has bothered to pick it up. The terror that bird-flu is striking in us. I know I wouldn't touch a dead bird. Maybe with gloves. Maybe.

But anyway, back to the question of how long it has been there. I don't think I can make too concrete of a guess, but I'm going to say that it has been over a week. I'm wondering why nobody has called the people who pick up dead animals from the road. A few weeks ago, after spotting a dead racoon in the street, my father called the police, who told him to call another number that I don't remember. The people at the other number didn't answer, being that it was late at night, so being the good member of society that he is, my father went out and got the racoon into a garbage bag. I'm sure he was careful about it.

As for why nobody has done it with this bird, I suspect that it is because it is just out of the road. It is just out of the zone in which it would be continuously run over, causing people to feel enough sympathy to make a phone call. Of course, I'm wondering all this as I sit here and type a journal entry instead of making the phone call that I may or may not be begging for someone to make. It's also interesting to note that the resting place of the bird is right in front of the Shelter Rock Jewish Center. One would think that a house of worship would want to have someone clean up the dead duck on their proverbial doorstep. I wonder if it will be there tomorrow.

I've been off from school since Wednesday, and being that it's my senior year of high school, this might be the specific Spring Break that I would go on a vacation to some warm locale and party and get drunk all night and tan on the beach all day. Obviously, I'm not. I don't like taking my shirt off in public anyway.

I'm not sure how it goes every year, but most of the people that I know who are going away, or have already gone away have chosen the Bahamas. It is a nice place. I've been there once, and I quite liked it. I believe I was in sixth grade. This is quite irelevant, though. I never even really considered returning this time as my classmates were so eager to do. I'm fairly certain that I would have been allowed to go by my parents had I wanted to, though.

Thinking about why I never wanted to go, I can come up with a few reasons. First of all, since then I've become terribly afraid of flying. I've only flown once since September 11th, so I'm not going to deny that there is a valid correlation there. I think I could be flexible to flying, though. After all, how am I going to get to Los Angeles when I want to try my luck in the TV biz?

Another reason is that I wasn't sure I would be able to find a group of people who had space in their room. There's nothing worse than being on the outside of a group of people who've already formed a group and begging to claw your way in, and I think I felt that there was no need for me to do that.

Third is the shirt thing. For real. I'm serious.

I'm not really sure what my point is for this entry. I suppose it's that I feel like I may be missing something. I'm in that whole end of high school rite of passage mode and I'm wondering if this is one rite of passage that I'm just not going to get to. Classifying it as a right of passage is probably wrong of me, considering the fact that 99% of teens never go on any sort of spring break trip, but for some reason, among the people that I've spoken to about it, it seems to be the norm. I also don't know if partying in beautiful weather with a bunch of people just looking to hook up is something that takes you to the next leven in life, but it is probably fun. Yeah, that's all I got.

Sure, I've passed every single subject up to this point this year. Sure, that's more than I did last year. However, I still haven't actually done any real work. I've done a few neccesary homework assignemtns here and there, but there has been no truly huge thing that has demanded a lot of out of school effort during this year. Now there are two.

Because of my aforementioned (thought not in this entry) failing of US History last year, I am, of course, re-taking it this year. This means that I have to write the US History Research Paper at the same time as the paper that it is preparing us for, the Participation in Government paper. Both of these papers require a sizable amount of work out of school, and of course they have to come in tandem with one another on a completely unprepared me. I suppose the end of high school wouldn't have it any other way. This place has had my life for the last four years. Now it wants my soul.

I'm sure I'll suck it up and complete these papers on time (the US one is due May 1st, the PiG is due May 16th), because without them I simply cannot graduate. I seriously don't know if I could go on living if I didn't graduate high school on time. I don't know how I could re-take one of these classes, especially the one that I am taking for the second time already. That's just too painful to think about. I should be taking the time that I am taking to type this entry to work on those papers. If I could finish the US one by the end of this vacation, that would be ideal. Haven't started yet, though. I find that the initial jump into work mode is the hardest part. To say, okay, I'm going to stop doing all this other stuff and just work now is almost impossible for me unless my back is completely up against the wall. Unfortunately, with assignments this time consuming, your back is already implanted into the wall before you can even feel it touching, if that makes any sense.

Other than these papers, though, I can pretty much continue to coast and not have to worry about anything. My third quarter report card just came and it was the highest GPA I've had since like first quarter last year. So that is good. If nothing else, I have that, right? Oh high school, I just can't quit you.

A passover sedar is an interesting thing among reform jews. It is done out of tradition, and even most of the adults are cracking jokes and laughing during serious parts. We only read up to page 19 in our haggadahs. After a certain point we just give up. I always find that hilarious. Whenever I get a portion of rading (which we do exclusively in enlish, by the way) I make sure to speed through it as though I was reading Sula in the middle of Ms. Ball's english class. Nobody seems to mind that we could be missing major significance. In fact, I think they appreciate my speeding up of the procession. Sometimes the sedar seems more like an excuse to show off my younger cousins' reading skills than a religous experience, which I am totally fine with.

If it were my choice, we wouldn't have a sedar at all. In fact, I've missed two sedars in my lifetime just by telling my mother that I didn't want to go. Recently, I've matured a little and I've been able to swallow it relatively easily. I must add that a sedar among reform jews can happen any time during passover, and not only on the first night. A sedar is adjusted for everyone's convenience, and not the other way around.

I'm not saying this to point out anything that I don't like, but rather to wonder why we ever do it. I suppose it is to hold on to the idea of religion, even if no one there is a true believer. Maybe it's just an excuse for family gatherings. Maybe it's because parents hope that their children will be able to embrace religion in a way that they were never able to. Any of this is possible. Bottom line, though, I'm never sitting through a sedar that reaches page 20.

No, don't get excited. This isn't the entry where I reveal that I've gotten a prom date. This is the entry where I tell you about my having less of a chance, being that it's the middle of April already. You see, today I payed for the limo that I will be going to prom in. The thing is that I paid for two people. I made an assumption that I would find someone to go with me by the time rolled around. If I'm wrong, not only did I was quite a bit of money, but I also will look like even more of a fool. Good stuff.

This week, a kid in my school put up flyers that read something like "Prom Date for **** ********: Auditions will be held periods six and eight in the student lounge." I don't know just how serious this kid was. Obviously, he doesn't have a date, which I can totally believe. And obviously there was a lot of joking in this action. But still, I can't help but think he was hoping to raise awareness about the fact that he was looking, which is exactly what I haven't done. I haven't even spoken to any girls about prom. I have made no progress at all. I'm at a loss for ideas. Yay for me!

Last weekend I visited Towson Universtiy, where I will be attending next year. I hate to say it, but I had a terrible time. I went with two friends from camp (one male, one female) and a friend of theirs. We stayed at my male friends brother's (a senior) apartment. The whole entire time I couldn't help but feel entirely out of place, and that wasn't helped by the fact that we stayed for three fucking nights. It's not to say that I didn't like the people there, I just felt like, in the conditions that I was in that point, I couldn't be myself. To be constricted and have to act differently for that long is excruciatingly awful.

First of all, I was without a computer. I could have always asked to use one of theirs, but I didn't even feel comfortable enough to do that. What would I have done on their computers? I don't really know. Now, for some people, being without a computer is no big deal, not for me. It is my life-line. The best communication tool I have besides my mouth. And it's even rivaling that. I know this won't be a problem next year, but it still sucked now, so I will stand by my complaint about it. I also wasn't able to watch any shows that were on. I spent the entire weekend watching On Demand episodes of Real Time with Bill Maher. This especially bothered me because I knew that when I came home I was going to have a ridiculous amount of stuff to watch and feel annoyed by that. I hate when shows start to pile up.

I also felt like I was losing my weekend to this trip. My weekend is supposed to be a time to relax, and so are vacations, but this didn't seem like that. Instead, this was non-stop running around and hanging out with people who I didn't know but who the people I did know knew (confusing sentence). I felt like it was never my choice to say what we were going to do, and it wouldn't matter if it was, because there was nothing I really wanted to do there. I was ready to leave on the first day after having taken a tour of the campus (which I really liked). As a person, I enjoy having alone time, and here I couldn't have any of that. I was constantly around many people and constantly uncomfortable. I don't normally feel like this, but I guess it was just the lack of familiarity with everyone I was with sans two people. I hope all this will be better come late August. At least I know I'll have my computer and my TV. As for the alone time and people that I know....ehhh.

On the final day of the third quarter a bunch of seniors sat in a classroom and begged their teacher to play a game that most of them hadn't played since elementary school. It culminated in possibly the best fifteen minutes of school in ever. For a while we had been asking Mr. Bolen, our Sociology teacher, if we could possibly play Seven Up, but he had resisted. We hadn't actually had a day where there was nothing to do before, but even so, he had previosuly rejected the notion of the game. He pointed out how silly it was and how easy it was to cheat, and he is right, but still, fun is to be had with this game. For those not familiar, the game works like this: Seven students will go up to the front of the room as the rest of the class puts their head down and thumbs up. The seven students will then walk around the room and each of them will push down the thumb of one other student. The students who had their thumb pushed down then have to decide who it was that pushed down their thumb. In short, it's amazing.

Today, ideal conditions for a game of seven up had arrived. Not only was it the last day of the quarter with our grades already having been determined and our big test having been the day before, but we had a record low number of students, a mere 14, so Mr. Bolen wouldn't have been able to teach much knowing that so much of the class would be missing it. So after a small discussion about our Participation in Government (PiG) Paper, we got our grades (An A! Yes!) and then we got down to business and played Seven Up. Being that the class was so small, we couldn't have a full seven people go up to the front of the room, so we had four. I was surprised and delighted to find that everyone was going to take this game quite seriously (while of course avoiding any accusations of taking the game too seriously by affecting a pseudo-serious tone, but hey, teenagers).

Mr. Bolen made several comments about how it's funny to watch seniors as they regress so much toward the end of their high school career. He said that he would never be able to get his freshman class to play a game like this, but seniors would volunteer to do it because we're trying to hold on to what is now so fleeitng. I agree about the holding on part, but I think I would have been down for seven up at any point in my life so far. I can't think of a time when I wasn't. Eithey way, though, seven up was played. People were into it. It was good.

A recent incident at my school has caught my eye. 

Last year, I made an entry about prom. More specifically about my sentimentality and genuine excitement when it comes to something with such epic connotations. I mean, movies and TV said that it was a big deal, and I fuckin' believed 'em. I still do. My prom experience will be a little different, though. One of the classes that I failed last year, United States History, has it's regents test the day after the prom. I'm probably one of the only seniors still taking this class, therefore, I'm one of the only people in this situation. This means that I'll have "school" the day after prom, which sort of makes me angry, but doesn't.

It sort of makes me angry because I feel like I'm not going to actually get the "prom experience." It's like there's this rite of passage that goes along with it, but having a test looming over my head for the next day is something that sort of makes the whole thing feel a lot less like one last hurrah in high school and more like a Friday Night Middle School Dance that sucks enough to have school the next day. So for that, I'm not thrilled. I mean, one of my big things that I put on my list of goals was to get a date for the prom from my school. It was a big motivation of mine, even if I hadn't actually acted upon it as of this point. Now, though, I feel as though it's very unimportant. The night will be over in the snap of a finger rather than the extended POST-High School bliss that it should be. For that, I feel angry.

A part of me can't help but think that this is so fitting and hilarious, though. I mean, it sort of feels like one final consequence of slacking off last year, which I still don't regret. It feels like I'm being punished while the rest of the senior class parties it up and says goodbye, I'll be sleeping in preparation for the test. Half of it feels like what my last hurrah should be, though. I don't go to many parties and I haven't had many "hurrahs" throughout high school, anyway. So maybe I'm just supposed to go out in the way that I've been all along, and not with this false "Where Da Party At?" attitude that I don't really posess. Maybe this is more me than that. I'm not saying that I'd choose this, but since when is High School about choice?

I believe that I posted in here almost a year ago about how I was immune from getting detention. I'm too lazy to find some linkage, though. At the beginning of this year, however, I operated under the assumption that my immunity had been erased and I was now able to get detention again. In short, I was mune. However, I planned on testing my limits, of course, so when the first detention rolled around, I skipped it. Didn't show up. I never heard a word of it, but I didn't think that my not hearing about it had to do with me, as much as it had to do with the teacher who wrote up the Disciplianry Report.

This teach, one Joan Ball, is a fascinating woman. In many ways, a sad woman. I don't particularly dislike her, but I don't think she's qualified to teach anymore. I won't go into much more description than that, because I think it would be wrong to highlight the inaqequacies of this woman in written form. Writing down things about her just makes me feel icky, so I won't do it. I will say, though, that Ms. Ball writes up more DR's for more trivial reasons than any other teacher in the school. This is why I assumed that my detention immunity this year only had to do with the fact that they don't take Ms. Ball's DR's seriously.

Recently, I stopped by the cafeteria on a trip to the bathroom and got some food which resulted in a DR from Ms. Ball. I'm not defending that, nor am I saying that she was wrong to write me up on this occasion, even though I know for a fact that there are other students whom she wouldn't write up for the same offense. It's not that she likes them better (which she does), it's that they'd take the time to do something like a cafeteria trip with tact that a petty person like Ms. Ball requires, while I just went for it. So whatever, I got a DR. Being me, though, I had to inform Ms. Ball that I don't ever serve her detentions. I imagine she was somewhat taken aback by this, like I would imagine someone who struggles so hard for power would be if you told them that their one "move" had been rendered useless. So Ms. Ball took her DR and wrote down what I said to her as an added offense.

Today as I was contacted to schedule my detention, the Assistant Principal told me that she lets a lot of kids from Ms. Ball's class slide if they don't show up for detention, but she can only do that if Ms. Ball doesn't know about it. She knows that if she had to track down every kid who gets detention from Ms. Ball and make sure they go she wouldn't have time to do anything else in her day. I imagined that it was my turn to be one of the kids who gets tracked down and forced to go, but alas, it wasn't meant to be. She scheduled me for another detention, but told me that she doesn't care if I serve it or not. She just wants to make sure that I don't tell Ms. Ball if I don't serve it. Hah! Immunity is mine again! Or maybe it never left me...

Four months. That's how long I have left in high school. I don't particularly care for high school. I actually hate it. However, my sentimentality may start to get the best of me quite soon. I feel like, even if I didn't have the greatest high school career, I need to end well. I need to end with closure. I have a lot of things that I need to do before I can conceivably move on. Now, here I am, talking about how much I have to do as I do absolutely nothing for a whole week. Still, some day soon I'm going to have to make a list. A list of everything that I want to accomplish before the end of high school. The things on the list don't neccesarily have to do anything with high school, but I'd like to have a list of things that I want to accomplish in my life, by June, so I can feel like I've figured everything out that can be figured out at this stage, and now I'm ready to move on. When I make that list, I probably won't post it here, as it will be private, but that doesn't stop me from rambling on about it right now.

I haven't yet decided how hard the list will be. If I think that I'm lying to myself by putting something on the list and actually believing that I'll get it done, do I not put it down? Or is that limiting myself? Should I put everything down, even the stuff that seems so impossible that I'll never make it happen? Part of me wants to make the list easy, because then I can pat myself on the back when I've accomplished all it's tasks. However, that won't really accomplish anything. I'll still have all this unfinished stuff looming over my head, regardless of whether I completed a few arbitrary tasks that I assigned to myself on some random day in Februrary. If I'm to challenge myself, I will probably fail, but maybe in that failure I'll come a whole lot closer to success than I would without challenging myself at all. Or who knows? Maybe I'll succeed. Maybe I'll write all these tough tasks down and that will motivate me and I'll become proactive and actually have some self-worth at the end of the day. Wouldn't that be something?

Barring any unforseen complications, I'll be walking on graduation day in my silly looking cap and gown. That in itself will be something of a miracle. But I want more. Like I said, I want closure.

Some traditions aren't meant to last. They fall away with time, to be replaced by something more practical. Practicality owns us. We're always looking for something better, or easier, or cheaper. Mostly cheaper. Why write in a journal when you have a LiVE JOURNAL? Why read a book when you can look it up on wikipedia? Why make a left when you can make three rights? Discard that last one.

But seriously. The romantic notion that the young kids in a neighborhood will go around and shovel the snow of their neighbors for a quick buck is dead. Us kids have been replaced by landscapers with industrial snow-blowers and impersonal workers. Now, maybe they do charge less. Maybe they do, in fact, do a better job. Maybe this provides some guys who need work with a job on a day where they would be without pay. Maybe this unspoken rule never really existed, and it's just something I thought did as a kid. Maybe. But I dont know. To me, it seems like something that shouldn't be a business. It shouldn't be a hustle. I mean, the actual shoveling should be one, of course. The finding a drive-way that people actually want shoveled, though, that should be as easy as finding a senior citizen. You know?

There's one in particular that I'd like to talk about here. It's Theatre Workshop 2. I took part one last year. I need this class to fulfill my art/music requirement that most studnets fulfill in ninth grade. Actually, ALL students do it in ninth grade. No, I'm not kidding. They do.

Last year's class was interesting. I didn't feel too out of place in it, I guess. I didn't exactly enjoy it, but I didn't dread it. I don't know what to make of this one yet.

I am the only male in the class, so that's weird. The class is populated by girls who are as uninhibited as I am annoyed with the broad theatre exercises that we do. It's really uncomfortable for me. I know that there is another guy who was on the attendance list, but he didn't show up, and I know him, and I don't think he ever will. So it's just me and the really excited girls. Oh, did I mention that every single one of them had theatre workshop 1 together during the same period last semester? Yeah, I'm also the only new one. Go figure.

Last year I made a list of my top fifty television episodes of 2004. It's my own version of the list that thefutoncritic does. These are my favorite episodes, not necessarily the best. Also, I try to get at least one episode in from every show that I watch. I'm not going to have twenty episode from one show on the list, because that's just boring. I guess these episodes are more judged on how they stand out in their own respective shows, than in the overall television landscape. If it was any other way, I'd probably just have all episodes from my few favorite shows. Though, currently, I'm without a true favorite. Nothing really sticks out head and shoulders above the rest for me. But to the list....

 

( Number 50-26 )

Last Thursday, in school, I fainted. I've never fainted before in my entire life, so this was quite an odd experience. I had gone to bed at 2 A.M. the night before (my normal bed-time) and I got up at around 6:40. My schedule sucks, so I had seven straight periods to start the day. This means that I didn't eat anything at all. By the time eighth period rolled around, I was positively starving. I took a ride over to Quiznos and gorged down in a very short period of time, because I had to hand something into the office, which limited my off period time and eating time. I arrived back at school for ninth period, during which I began to feel light-headed. I asked the teacher to go to the bathroom once it started to get really weird. On the way there, I felt like I was going to throw up, so I took a detour and stepped outside via the nearby exit.

Once outside, I felt to feel even more weird and see black spots all over and then before I know it my mind is drifting. I'm thinking about something random and off-topic and I've completely forgotten about the fact that I'm nausous or exhausted or even in school. It was only when a frantic hall monitor woke me up that I realized my mind had wandered because I was asleep. All of a sudden there are five people there, including both assistant principals, my teacher, the nurse, and another teacher who seemed to be some kind of expert with this kind of thing. Ironically, he was teaching his nearby class about CPR in a nearby classroom. It was weird.

In other news, I'm hoping that I can make room during this next semester for some more stuff that I didn't get to do during the first one because of my busy schedule. That is, if this second semester senior year thing actually holds up to be as easy as everyone says that it is. I have my doubts, especially because some of my classes are not exactly geared towards seniors, so they're not going to take it easy just because I'm in the class. That would be nice, though. Whatthose things are that I want to do are stil a little unkown to me. I'll rethink them when I see how much free time I really get.

I also am now coming to realize that I may not be getting into any of the colleges that I really wanted to go to. It's kind of a let-down, but I'm not that upset about it. I'm still going to see what I do to fix this, though. Next year is very unknown and a little scary to me, but also exciting at the same time. I just hope that wherever I end up I'll have a great time. I always hope that, actually.

Beyond that, for today, I got nothing. Oh, except for the fact that reading these Marsathon reports makes me incredibly jealous.

I really enjoyed taking Philosophy this past semester in school. It was an interesting class and a much needed change of pace to all the other boring, lecture-style classes. This class was almost always a discussion, mediated by the students. We discussed a wide variety of topics, and it was interesting to see so many different view-points. I know it sounds very naive, but prior to this, I always thought that deep down most people that I go to school had similar core beliefs with me. Needless to say, they don't. There are a lot of differing opinions in the class, and that is what made the discussion so interesting. The class also wasn't based on any kind of assignments that took more than five minutes, so that was nice. That is, until now.

Being that it is the end of the semester and the end of this class, the teacher has given out an assignemtn that asks us to present to the class, in a creative and engaging way, our answers to these following questions: Who am I? What do I want to become? What am I passionate about? How do I plan to "sieze the day?"

To me, this is one of the hardest things I've ever been asked to do. I don't think I could ever just do this assigment straight up. The class is very kind and usually non-judgmental, but I still know that I couldn't just walk up there all raw and state who I am, honestly. I just can't be that open to people, especially not in public, or whatever the classroom is. It's not that I don't want people to know who I am, it's that I don't want to tell them. Explaining it means summing it up, which makes it all seem so stupid anyway. You tell them the rough points to get everything across, but all the important stuff, the real reasons are lost in the process. And maybe I don't want them to know the real reasons anyway. I probably don't even have the answers to all of the questions, so even if I wanted to do this assignment to the best of my ability, I couldn't.

So that means that I have to BS it, which is even harder. On the first few days of presenting, I have seen kids go up there, completely unembarrased to really share who they are and be who they are. They're unafraid. Unashamed. Real. Raw. There's no way anything that I make up can have what they have. I mean, I can lie alright, and I can make things up really well (hence the choice for a future profession) but people can always see right through you when you're not giving them who you really are. They know it. You know it. They know that you know it. It's awkward and uncomfortable and not exactly a situation that I want to be in.

So where do I go from here?

I really don't know. If only I knew how to tell you who I was...