Chicken Casesar Salad + Chocolate Milk = My Lunch

I threw half of the salad away, because it began tasting very weird after I started on the Chicken. Alas, college food. Ewww...and it made me feel uneasy. My poor little tummy doesn't like yucky food. It likes chocolate milk though. Yummy!!!!

It has been three hours since I wrote that paragraph. It has been only thirty minutes when I woke up from a nap feeling sick to my stomach. Pain had seized me. Me no like toilets.

So burping is basically the release of pressure within the body. A release of the pressure created when digesting food...if I can remember from last year's AP biology class.

So now today I have not only burped after the creamy smooth liquid (aka chocolate milk), I have burped out everything that caused me discomfort last week. Relief.
As I sat under shade between Wheeler and Dwinelle Hall, I began wondering (sheeeeesh, thinking again) about how ridiculous my "mourning" was. I mourned the lack of "social" activity in high school. Ironically, I am going to a high school party tonight (hopefully). Of course guess-who invited me there. Yes, my sister. She doesn't want to face the dangers of rich people partying. I hope that we will make it out alive. Somehow the "mourning" also came out of that "pretentious" bitter incident of last Thursday. Now that I look back, I start laughing. Everything is utterly ludicrous.
Suddenly walking back to my dorm, I saw Linda. Sudden fear gripped me as I darted to the right side of the pathway. She didn't notice me. I must have been in disguise in my bright orange outfit. Yes it's true, I am wearing bright orange today. A long skirt that I tripped on climbing on the bus. An orange camisole that irritatingly keeps slipping. Then a white cardigan to give me a sense that I am not too too too orange. Orange represents the outlandish people of Berkeley.
After that, in my dorm, Tram called me and started discussed my childish antics. I told her that the entire situation was becoming too amusing--technically, I was never really mad. In my mind, I was creating a play with the most dramatic climax. I still haven't reached the climax. No confronations yet. The last confrontation created in my mind but acted out in reality was in the seventh grade. Once again, I felt out of place. Sheesh, it's always like that. It was during lunch and somehow I found it incredibly hard to relate to the people I was eating lunch with. Personally, it's hard to fanthom interest in shaving legs. And these seventh grader girls were dicussing that. At that time, I barely went out of my house and it was clear that our interests barely coincided. (I feel like that I am digressing again!!!!!) But during that lunch, suddenly I started to weep quietly in the corner that I had inhabited. If I had the courage, I would sit by myself out in the patio. However, sitting by myself gave me a lot of pressure. People notice. I would notice too and somehow unconsciously imprint the name of the persons sitting alone. Yet back to the lunch, the pressure was getting to me. Olivia, one of the people there, noticed my distress. She and the other girls were playing with conversation stickers. On one she wrote, "We don't want Jennifer sitting with us anymore." Then she stuck it to the empty area of the bench next to me. It drew on me that sitting in a group with people that I didn't really know was quite wrong. In a dramatic gesture, I grabbed my backpack and swirled away from the corner of the playground. Around the corner, away from the group's eyes, I slid down the wall and muttered to myself about the horrors of middle school. Immediately, someone from the group appeared. In my distressed state, I rejected her help. I walked to another side of the playground where they never seeked to find me and sat there in bitterness.
But then...was I really bitter? Or furthermore, am I bitter now? Or like what HE said, am I being pretentious?
Ultimately, I think it came from a syndrome with three little letters that targets half of the human race 12 times a year.
Yesterday, Jiong told me why Anthony had seemed withdrawn the other day. Anthony was actually mourning a close relative's death. However, all I was really mourning was stupidity. That reminded me of the same instance I had gone through when I was younger. In the first grade, I began crying after lunch, because I had nobody to play with. I saw a fellow student crying because she fell really hard on the concrete pavement and skinned her knee. That kind of pain deserves a good cry. Yet, I was simply crying over something nonphysical. Blah, so here I am.

It's almost a near repetition of welcome week. Last summer in the English class, the instructor read a definition essay titled Happiness. The author inferred that happiness is only achieved through work and suffering. Instant gratification just won't do. It creates too much desire.

I have found relief.

*BURP!*