The speed of light is 299792458 m/s.

I haven�t updated in over a month (unless you count the �people are shits� thing), and strangely, that�s the only thing I can think of to say. Seeing as how entries should be longer than one sentence, however, I�m going to keep typing. Wherever my fingers decide to go, that�s what you get to read. Lucky lucky you.

My lips are chapped. They�ve been that way all winter, though whether due to harsh weather or the Accutane, I don�t know. Probably a combination of both. At any rate, I�m going to go get some Carmex. John Neal once squirted a tube of the stuff up his nose on a band trip. But I�m just going to put it on my lips.

It stings! It doesn�t taste too good either. I wonder if there�s such a thing as flavored Carmex? If not, there should be. All the stuff that tastes good does nothing to help your lips, and the stuff that helps your lips never tastes good. I vote for putting two and two together, myself. Though it�s quite possible they already have, and my poor self in Hicksville has missed out on it. It�s not my fault that Wal-Mart is the economic base of the community.

Have I mentioned the Accutane before? It�s clearing up my zits. It has also given me DD-sized breasts, which means that I can no longer fit into my bridesmaid dress, which means that if by some strange occurrence I actually get asked to Prom, I won�t have a dress to wear. Seeing as how Jonathan is a jackass, however, this shouldn�t be a problem.

It would be quite ironic if my newly enlarged breasts caused Jonathan asked me to Prom.

But as I keep telling myself, no one is going to ask me to Prom under any circumstances. Jamie and I have made plans accordingly. We shall have an Anti-Prom, known as Morp (Prom backwards, completely and utterly stolen from Zoe�s high school, and probably many other places as well), in which we shall all dress like Goths/skanks/etc. and watch Carrie, and we shall laugh at those stupid losers who actually have a life.

Speaking of Jamie, she still likes Jeremy, but he backed out on the �let�s do something together and see what happens� plan, so I guess she gets stuck in the dumpster right along with Rachel and Andrea. And he�s constantly saying how ugly he is and how no girl will ever find him attractive. Idiot.

Jonathan used to say �you�re welcome� when I thanked him for bringing me home (not that this happens very often), but the last three times he hasn�t said anything at all. This worries me. He�s been bringing me home more than usual lately as Jamie and I are preparing another duet for Solo & Ensemble (Allemande, by Handel), and we practice after school while the jazz band does, which Jonathan is a part of. Except the jazz band just got disbanded (heh) because not enough people were showing up, so who knows what�ll happen now. Mr. Wells has said something about forming a Dixieland group, which means he�ll finally accept a jazz clarinet, except I know he�ll want Susan instead of me.

Anyway, Jonathan�s giving me the impression that either he doesn�t like me at all or he suddenly (yet again) likes me a whole lot but can�t/won�t do anything about it. Who knows with him? It actually doesn�t matter which it is, because they�ll both lead to the same result. So I shouldn�t be worried about it, but I am anyway, because it�s Jonathan, and I love him even if he is a jackass.

Spring break is at the end of this month. I get to spend it visiting colleges, which for some strange reason actually excites me. Yea! School�s out! Let�s go visit more schools! My parents and I are going to Rhodes, and then my mother and I are going to Sewanee, both of which are in Tennessee. This summer I think we�ll visit Centre (Kentucky) and Wheaton, a Christian college in Illinois that I have no interest in, but my father has a great interest in, so of course I�ll be applying there. Blesh, I�m not that conservative.

I don�t know how I�m going to fit everything into my summer. There�s band camp, which is a week, then Governor�s School (assuming I get accepted, which I will) for the next six weeks, and then a week of summer band. Maybe if I�m lucky I�ll actually get a week of not doing anything, one in which I can actually sleep late.

I won�t be going back to California this summer, because the schedule just won�t work unless I get rejected by Governor�s School, which would be nice as it is another one of those things that I really have no interest in (sorry Mary) but my father does, so of course I had to apply. Seriously, I wasn�t give a choice. So I hope they hate me, but I know they won�t.

Parent/teacher conferences are on Thursday. I�ll probably get the computer taken away from me again, as I have an 89 in English, a most unpleasant and unexpected discovery. I still don�t understand how my grade could be that low, but it is. On the brighter side, all my other grades are A�s, even in advanced chemistry, where there are only three A�s in the entire class. I�ll be punished anyway.

It�s not easy being green.

Concert contest is this Saturday in Jonesboro. We are the last band to perform in the entire contest. I have a feeling that we won�t be making straight I�s this year, either, as the judges are quite tough, and our performance ability is completely erratic from day to day. Sometimes minute to minute. After not breaking the top ten at the Open, I don�t know if I can bear it if we don�t do this right. I want another Sweepstakes trophy�.

Oh! And the band is going on its first ever big trip in April, to some national contest in Atlanta. We get to miss two days of school for it, and we�re riding over in a charter bus. The best part is, the part of the trip spent actually playing our instruments will be, according to Mr. Wells, about fifteen minutes. Then we�re going to Six Flags. Booyah.

I have discovered that low brass players are exceptionally fond of that word, but then low brass players are pretty strange. Stereotypically they should be stupid, but ours are actually somewhat smart. They�re just strange.

Scratch that. I must have forgotten that Jonathan is a low brass player. Stupid and strange, though I�m at a loss as to which characteristic is more defining.

I don�t really mean that, you know. The stupid part, anyway. I insult him because it�s the only way I can protect myself from him.

I really need to go to bed.