I can't believe I'm doing this. Then again, I said the same thing about myspace, facebook, and my cell phone.

Hey, my name is Paula, and I am not the right person for a blog.
The truth is, I've made 15 attempts at diaries in the past, but things like that are just not for me.
This should come as a shock, seeing as how I spend half my life reading, a fourth of it writing, and one fourth making sarcastic remarks. Surprising as it may be, though, I have never ever [ever] been able to keep a diary for over a week. The first day is always a good one, and is a 2 page account of my day. The second day involves a comment along the lines of, "wow. this is getting boring." The third day only has a page of writing. The fourth a paragraph. The fifth usually involves a lot of cursing the diary for its existence. The sixth day ends in my throwing the diary out, and usually in a painful and creative way. One time i chucked its contents into the Red Sea, making for a pleasant surprise for an unsuspecting traveller.
Which explains why I hate getting diaries as gifts.
"Here you go!" says friend, thrusting wrapped present in my face.
"Thanks!" says eager Paula, ripping apart gift, "Oh wow," she says, on seeing contents of gift, "Er. You shouldn't have." [Under breath: You really, really, shouldn't have.]
Payback comes in the form of my forgetting aforementioned friend's gift at home for months on end. Accidentally, of course.
I don't have many friends.
Well, this isn't true.
Not at all, really.
Wow, I think I should explain myself to the reader, seeing as how they've already put up with a paragraph of ranting. Hello, my name is Paula. I'm a sophmore at Stuyvesant High School in New York City. You've probably heard of it, and you probably didn't. It's a supposedly smart school, but after going there for a year, I've made the conclusion that it really is not. You've definitely got your share of braniacs, but the kids there are the same you might find in any other school, except for a couple of differences. Mainly, that:
1) I can count the amount of african americans on one hand. And 2 of them are half asian.
2) Our accessory of choice is a rubik's cube.
3) The only fights that break out are over who trumps who in a yugioh card game.
Stuyvesant High School is a school for the outcasts. Even the strangest of kids has a friend or two. I should know, I'm pretty strange.
More about myself: I love my friends and family, and am always up for doing something fun. I have freakishly weird proportions - 4"7, weighing in at 62 pounds. Some call me cute. I beg to differ, really. I have a lot of friends, and even an appreciation group. But more on that later. I am scared to death of scary movies. Like, seriously. I cried watching 'When a Stranger Calls'.
You are dealing with a serious wimp here, people. I also like quiet hang outs, like when you have a picnic on the Great Lawn, or spend a day in watching dvds with a close friend. Days like that are even more amazing than Nutella. I love clothes. A LOT. I spend hours [not exaggerating] online shopping. My father hates it. But honestly, what do men understand about finding the perfect BCBG halter dress in a color to match your eyes? Nothing, I tell you. Nothing. I prefer texting to calling and I have a contagious laugh. I'm usually right. Seriously. I am usually right. Lastly, I love you. For reading all of this. It means a lot.



Wow. I wrote a lot for a first time blog. Hopefully I keep this up. And hopefully, you keep reading. I don't see why you would. But if you do, that's cool. Really cool. Cooler than ice cubes.
Ew, that was lame. Alright, see you later.