not in the supply closet because they still haven't put the door back on it), and Michael put on headphones and started

working on a new song for his band, that I realized it:

I have no special talent. I have no gift. In fact, if it weren't for the fact that I am a princess, I would be the most ordinary

person alive.

I mean, all my friends have these incredible things they can do: Lilly knows everything there is to know and isn't shy about saying it in front of a camera. Michael can not only play guitar and, like, fifty other instruments including the piano and drums, but he can also design whole computer programs. Boris has been playing his violin at sold-out Carnegie Hall concerts since

he was eleven years old, or something. Tina Hakim Baba can read, like, a book a day. Shameeka knows everything there is

to know about makeup and amoebas and Ling Su is an extremely talented artist.

But me?

Yeah, I can't do anything. I mean, nothing really well. Nothing better than anybody else.

I am just blah. I do not know why Michael even likes me, I am so talentless and boring. I mean, I guess it's a good thing my destiny as the monarch of a nation is sealed, because if I had to go apply for a job somewhere, I so fully wouldn't get it, because I'm not good at anything.

So here I am, sitting in Gifted and Talented, and there really is no getting around this basic fact:

I, Mia Thermopolis, am neither gifted nor talented.

WHAT AM I DOING IN HERE????? I DO NOT BELONG HERE!!!! I BELONG IN TECH. ED.!!!! OR DOMESTIC ARTS!!!!! I SHOULD BE MAKING A BIRDHOUSE OR A PIE!!!!

Just as I was writing this, Lilly leaned over and went, 'Oh my God, what is wrong with you? You look like you just ate a

sock,' which is what we say whenever someone looks super depressed, because that is how Fat Louie always looks

whenever he accidentally eats one of my socks and has to go to the vet to have it surgically removed.

Fortunately, Michael didn't hear her on account of having his headphones on. I would never have been able to confess

in front of him what I confessed then to his sister, which is that I am a big talentless phoney.

'And they only put me in this class in the first place because I was flunking Algebra,' I told her.

And she went, 'You have a talent.'

I stared at her, my eyes wide and, I am afraid, filled with tears. 'Oh, yeah, what?' I was really scared I was going to cry.

It must be PMS or something, because I was practically ready to start bawling.

But to my disappointment, all Lilly said was, 'Well, if you can't figure it out, I'm not going to tell you.' When I protested this,

she went: 'Part of the journey of achieving self-actualization is that you have to reach it on your own, without help or guidance from others. Otherwise, you won't feel as keen a sense of accomplishment. But I will give you a hint: Right now, your talent

is staring you in the face.'

I looked around, but I couldn't figure out what she was talking about. There was nothing staring me in the face that I could

see. No one was looking at me at all. Boris was busy scraping away with his bow, and Michael was fingering his keyboard furiously (and silently), but that was about it. Everyone else was bent over their Kaplan review books or doodling or making sculptures out of Vaseline or whatever.

I still have no idea what Lilly was talking about. There is nothing I am talented at - except maybe telling a fish fork apart from

a normal one.

I can't believe that all I thought I needed in order to achieve self-actualization was the love of the man to whom

I have pledged my heart. Knowing Michael loves me - or at least really likes me - just makes it all worse. Because his incredible talentedness just makes the fact that I am not . good at anything even more obvious.

I wish I could go to the nurse's office and take a nap. But they won't let you do that unless you have a temperature,

and I'm pretty sure all I have is jet lag.

I knew it was going to be a bad day. If I had had on my Queen Amidala underwear, I never would have realized how

pathetic I am.






Tuesday, January 19th,

World Civ.





 Inventor

    Invention

    Benefits to Society

Cost to Society

  Samuel B. Morse



  Telegraph

   Easier communication


  Disrupted view  (wires)


  Thomas  A. Edison



Electric light




Phonograph

   Easier to turn on lights

  Less expensive than candles


  Music in the home

  w/o anyone playing instrument

  Society didn't trust them

 weren't successful at first


  Music in the home

  sound was bad at first

  Ben Franklin



  Franklin stove



  Lightning rod



   Less fuel, easier cooking


  Less chance of house being struck

  More pollution


  Ugly

  Eli Whitney



Cotton gin

   Less work


  Less employment


  A. Graham Bell



  Telephone


  Easier communications


  Disrupted view (wires)


  Elias Howe



Sewing machine

  Less work


  Less employment


  Chris. Scholes



Typewriter

  Easier work


  Less employment


Henry Ford



Automobile

assembly line



  More cars


  Pollution





I will never invent anything, either of benefit or cost to any society, because I am a talentless reject.






Homework:

Algebra: probs at beginning of Chapter 11 (no review session, Mr G has mtgs - also, just started semester, so nothing to review yet. Also, not flunking any more!!!!!!) English: update journal (How I Spent My Winter Break -500 words)

Biology: Read Chapter 13

Health and Safety: Chapter 1: You and Your Environment

G & T: Figure out secret talent

French: Chapitre Dix

World Civ.: Chapter 13: Brave New World











Tuesday, January 19th,

in the Limo on Way to Grandmere's for Princess Lesson

Things To Do:



1. Find Queen Amidala underwear.

2. Stop obsessing over whether or not Michael loves me vs. being in love with me. Be happy with what I have.

    Remember, lots of girls have no boyfriends at all. Or they have really gross ones with no front teeth like on

    Maury Povich.

3. Call Tina to compare notes on how the not-chasing-boys thing is working.

4. Do all homework. Do not get behind first day!!!!!

5. Wrap Michael's present.

6. Find out what Grandmere talked to Mom about last night. Oh, God, please do not let it be something weird like

    wanting to take me clay-pigeon shooting. I don't want to shoot any clay pigeons. Or anything else, for that matter.

7. Stop biting fingernails.

8. Buy cat litter.

9. Figure out secret talent.


10. GET SOME SLEEP!!!!!!!!! Boys don't like girls who have huge purple bags under their eyes. Not even perfect

     boys like Michael.









Tuesday, January 19th,

Still in the Limo on Way to Grandmere's for Princess Lesson

(presidential motorcade going by, stuck in traffic on FDR, underneath the United Nations)





Draft for English Journal:



How I Spent My Winter Break


I spent my Winter Break in Genovia, population 50,000. Genovia is a principality located on the Cote d'Azur between

Italy and France. Genovia's main export is olive oil. Its main import is tourists. Recently, however, Genovia has begun

suffering from considerable damage to its infrastructure due to foot traffic from the many yachts that dock in its harbour

and

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--



--

--

--












Wednesday, January 20,

Homeroom





Oh, my God. I must have been even more tired than I thought yesterday. Apparently I fell asleep in the limo on the

way to Grandmere's, and Lars couldn't even wake me up for my princess lesson! He says that when he tried, I swatted

him away and called him a bad word in French (that is Francois' fault, not mine).

So he had Hans turn around and drive me back to the loft, then Lars carried me up three flights of stairs to my room

(no joke, I weigh as much as about five Fat Louies) and my mom put me to bed.

I didn't wake up for dinner or anything. I slept until seven this morning! That is fifteen hours straight.

Wow. I must have been fried from all the excitement of being back home and seeing Michael, or something.

Or maybe I really did have jet lag, and that whole I-am-a-talentless-bum thing from yesterday wasn't rooted in my low self-esteem, but was due to a chemical imbalance from lack of REM sleep. You know they say that people who are sleep deprived start suffering from hallucinations after a while. There was a DJ who stayed up for eleven days straight, the longest-recorded period of time anyone has ever gone without sleep, and he started playing nothing but Crosby, Stills and Nash, and that's how they knew it was time to call the ambulance.