//in a world so shallow __ Shay's journal

[Shay Anderson]

Shay Anderson
history in list form.

Jaunary 1, 2007 - photoshoot.
5:41 P.M.

Dear Diary,


Besides being shocked about how I’m actually writing in this journal I got for Christmas, I’m even more amazed about how boring this is. It’s only two days into the New Year, and I already want to jump off of a cliff, Diary. Life is even more unbearable than it was only like, two weeks ago. It’s not just because my father is gone more than half the day, or that I’m failing English class – I have no idea what it is. I’m sitting in some crew member’s chair at a photoshoot for two hours with nothing to do. That fucking photographer better get organized or I’m so out of here. But, this should kill time. Let me start from where I feel like starting:

All of December was a complete nightmare for me. Think about it: exams are coming up, the roles for the spring shows are being announced soon and everyone is stressed because of the holidays. Like always, Daddy was stuck at the hospital saving these people’s lives until all hours of the morning. Whatever happened to responsible driving, anyways? Either way, that left me to organize the holiday parties, decorate the house and do all of the Christmas shopping. Although I did manage to pawn the decorating off on the cleaning staff, I still had this huge party for overworked doctors and their fugly wives to organize. Surprise, surprise, I actually managed to do it with the grace I have become accustomed to. In all honesty, it was actually fun. I rented out this huge hall in the middle of no where, hired the staff on Doctor Anderson’s credit card and invited anyone I felt like inviting – which wasn’t anyone I’m actually friends with. They’re boring.

I guess where I’m coming from is that I’m at a total loss for myself, Diary. I’ve become such a two-faced bitch, I have no idea who the hell I am anymore. One day, I’m at Mellow Drinks with my friends, debating wars and poverty and having slam poetry sessions. The next, I’m hitting the trendy boutiques with Valkyrie’s Elite. I like my friends, I really do. They’re all accepting, patient people with quick wit’s, the social scene at their mercy and more intelligence than half of MENSA. You could call me lucky for getting into the inner circle of the artistic clique – a lot harder than most people think it is. But…when I see people like Daphne and the other trio girls at school, I feel the ugly green monster called jealousy.

It’s pretty obvious that they all have their own problems, but…I don’t know. Something about those IT girls seems so secure. Like they’re living life to the fullest, including the dark side of partying, alcohol and everything else I hear about. Just listen to what the rumours about the Masquerade Ball are! While the A-listers were getting their hots on, I was stuck at some lame charity event on the arm of some old-ass photographer who likes to hire me for photoshoots. Ew. His photos aren’t even that great. Anyways, what kind of a person spends New Years Eve surrounded by adults? I mean, I had dinner with my father. I didn’t hang out with my friends on Christmas, either. Just me, the couch and whatever old movies were on Lifetime. Trust me, psychotic Siamese twins who breed dogs are a lot more intriguing than you’d originally think.

Fuck.
Stupid photographer is actually lifting up his camera, so I’d better go and look pretty for awhile. Bet you couldn’t do it, Diary. Advice on this friend thing?

Lots of love.

[Shay Anderson]

Jaunary 5, 2007 - Kiran's bedroom.
2:39 A.M.

Dear Diary,


See? I did decide to write back to you. Has it really only been a couple of days since I last complained to you, Diary? Fuck. I really do need to get myself a real life. Looks for a new one on e-bay for me, will you?

Anyways, not a whole lot has happened the last couple of days - I got into this huge argument with my chorus teacher, who is a big, ugly bastard. Met up with an old friend at Bare. Skipped school and ditched my friends. Sounds like quite the week, doesn't it? Either way, I write this to you from Kiran's bedroom. We just got home from a night out with the girls at Nonsense, and we're both too buzzed to sleep much tonight. School is a waste of time, anyways. And this thing is all over the map. Let me get back on topic:

The last couple of days, I have no idea what's gotten into me. I've become like, uber-bitch or something. I ditched my friends at lunch nearly everyday, and laughed at them right in front of them. Still, when I met them at Mellow Drinks yesterday, everything seemed fine. And, trust me, these aren't people who often bottle up their feelings about a friend; one tragic argument and Paul was sent away forever. But, the only person who's actually talked to me about it is the person I would have least expected it from: Kiran. She actually sat me down at the Country Club brunch last weekend and lectured me for like, half an hour. All this crap about starving myself because LA Fashion Week is coming up - like she isn't a size minus four. And how I need to start being myself again. What the hell does that even mean?

I guess, when you come down to it, it's just that - I dunno who I really am. I never got the chance to have a normal childhood where I made enough mistakes to know who I actually am; my father's head of a department and my mother was the next Paris Hilton. Do you really expect me to play ball in the backyard with Johnny Smith from next door?

These inner-demons keep coming up and I have no idea with what to do with them. I can't keep on being two different people: maybe I have Multiple Personality Disorder or something gnarly like that. Don't I wish. Anymore brilliant advice, Diary?

Lots of love.