Dear Diary,
Hey, y'all. Mandelarae here. I thought I'd make my site a little more unique by adding this feature. So, I'm here to tell everyone what my twisted little life is like, and I hope y'all enjoy it.
I'll introduce myself.
So, my name's NOT really Mandelarae (well duh...but, you wouldn't really know, right? There ARE people somewhere in the world that name their kids LUCREZIA or MILLIARDO, for reasons unknown.). My REAL birthname is Patricia Ysabel. It's a much-abused name, and I sometimes wish that I had a more unique name, like Mandelarae. That's basically the number one reason I chose that username.
And...WHERE do I live? I'm definitely not American, Canadian, Irish, Jamaican, or English (not that I have anything against these nationalities-I'm just stating examples). I'm part-Chinese, part-Filipino. I live in the biggest island in the Philippines (for those who have completely flunked geography, it's an archipelago in Southeast Asia. I have forgotten the exact coordinates.), which is Luzon. And I live in Metro Manila, the closest to 'urban' as you'll ever get. No, I am NOT like those people you see on the cover of National Geographic; we DO wear clothes.
I'm turning 14 on November 2, and I'm glad I was born on that day. Why? Because the day's easier to remember, rather than some random day, like March 12.
My personality? Um...I have split personalities (Go, Lady Une!). Really. But I don't mean that in a schizo-psycho way (Have I stopped making sense yet?) . I mean, I can be nice to you at one point, then all bitchy the next. I wonder if there's some other person who's like that. I'm twisted, and I attribute that to all the Diet Pepsi and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups that I've been addicted to lately. That, and probably all the instant noodles that I've been having for llunch and dinner. I have a weird, sort of sick, sense of humor. I attribute THAT to my cousins and friends, who have spent all their free time warping me.
Friends? Yeah, I've got friends! A small group, but there's never a bored day with them. I stick to the intellectuals more than to the popular kids (we call em Puddlesmere Reserve Team, or PRT. If you've read Harry Potter 4, then you'll know what I mean).
Anyway, we basically write fics and exchange, then resume writing. We also thrive on dreaming up ways for PRT to die slow, painful, agonizing deaths. AND, we like discussing scandals (political and non-political) and thinking up conspiracy theories.
Yeah, I know. I should be in a mental institute, but as of now, my parents still render me as 'sane.' Probably the sanest among their three daughters. Probably. Though most likely not.
Likes? Hobbies? Well, I like updating my website, reading books, and writing stories. And writing in this journal thing, even though it's a bit awkward presenting my life in detail to a few hundred consumers who don't really know if what I'm dishing out is true or not. (Oh, PS, what I'm writing is TRUE) My only comfort is that people won't be able to see my face.
I'm media-shy. I HATE having my picture taken. So my godfather has made it his mission in life to annoy me by taking pictures of me with his digital camera every time he comes over to our house.
Also, I have developed a mission statement for my life. I think. If I like something, I'll do it with all my heart. But if I don't want to do something, I'll be so damn bitchy that wild horses won't drag me away from my computer. Actually, my dad's computer.
I love to write stories. The only problem is that, well, I can START them pretty well, but when it gets to FINISHING them, I get stumped, get a new ideas, and start a new fic. That's why my computer's got so many unfinished stories.
So, we'll start off where my life picked off. April 18, 2002
See, I got invited to this big fancy formal children's party. Somehow, the words formal, children, and party don't exactly mesh well. But that's just me. I've given up attending children's birthday parties (they're so cliche) when I was 10. Now I'll just make up some stupid excuse and tell my mom to tell the hosts that I got sick or something. (I must have an excuse list a mile long)
Attending the birthday party itself would be FINE, but that's not all.
And the birthday celebrant's mom (someone I don't particularly like) sweet-talked me into dancing a number for her daughter's party. I've given up dancing since I was 6. But she's just so damn persistent! So I caved in. I knew she only asked me so that her shy eldest daughter (around two years younger than me) would dance too. Ew. I hate people who follow you around and hero-worship you, and won't do anything unless you do it, too. I mean, it's nice and all that you kiss the ground I walk on and all, but please, get a life.
AND I have to wake up EARLY (I'm a go to sleep at 2, get up at 12 kind of person) to go to the practices. So I just sit there while other kids prattle about waving ribbons in the air (there's another presentation: a ribbon dance), trying to dance, and being yelled at by the mom and the P3000 an hour dance instructor. I actually feel sorry for the kids.
More later, if I feel like it.
GIMME FEEDBACK!
Email Mandelarae: kisama@gundamwing.net
Thanks!
