Dear Notebook,

I refuse to call you Diary or Journal. Diary is feminine, and Journal is just a word made up that really means it's a diary.

Lord knows I'm feminine enough, and "pouring my heart out" in a diary sounds like a very unmanly thing to do. After all, I am Ryan Evans, and at East High, probably the most unmanly man of all the men there. How am I to achieve my ultimate goal of attaining a girlfriend, if I'm more feminine than she is? That is, unfortunately, just one of many obstacles that lay ahead of me in my path to true love.

Like I said, I'm Ryan Evans, and at East High, saying that name probably brings with it a few choice adjectives. Most commonly: gay, girl, poodle. Not really the type of names you want to be called if you're trying to find love; preferably with a female. Because contrary to what most people think of me, I'm not gay.

I mean, sure I admire the good looks of Troy and Chad and the rest of the shirtless Wildcats. They have great hair and huge muscles. But personally, I just don't swing that way, if you know what I mean.

Anyway, the other reason that my reputation at East High is not going to help me get a girlfriend anytime soon is that everyone associates me with my twin sister, Sharpay. I'm just her servant brother, her toy poodle, and possible incestuous lover. People wonder what Sharpay and I do in all that alone time we spend together rehearsing; so naturally, they have to come up with the most sexually oriented conclusion.

Before you get freaked out or anything, I can assure you that it is not at all like that between my sister and I. Well not really. I mean we're not without our awkward brother/sister moments. There was that time she caught me looking at her chest in the seventh grade. She was hogging the bathroom and I really had to go. So I just opened the door and there she was, in a towel and bright blue bra. I was young, going through puberty, and had never seen anything like that before. I stood staring at her chest until she slammed the door in my face with a "Hmph!"

But all in all, nothing like that has ever really happened again. Oh, I mean besides the CPR incident of last summer. But that was kind of all my fault again, anyway.

You see, another one of the more unfortunate feminine things about me is that I'm not a very good swimmer. I believe it's my lack of upper arm strength. Working out is a definite must on my new agenda. Anyway.

We were alone, relaxing on floaties in the deep end of our pool. There Sharpay was, gabbing away about the evils of Gabriella Montez when a bee landed directly on my forehead. Well naturally, I panicked. I flailed my arms around until I had fallen off the floatie and was sinking to the bottom of a pool I couldn't swim in.

Sharpay, being the heroic person she is, dove in after me and pulled me to the surface. I must have passed out from all the water in my lungs because the next thing I knew I was having a dream where I was making out with a beautiful Brazillian Model. Yeah, I know. Too good to be true.

When I finally awoke and opened my eyes, there was a curtain of blonde hair around me, and glossed lips pushing air into my breathless lungs. Sharpay had dragged me out of the pool and was attempting to give me CPR. I like to think I was a little out of it at the time, having just woken up from an almost watery death sleep, because next thing I knew I was pushing my tongue into her mouth, kissing her back in the "kiss of life."

After a few awkward seconds, she pulled away and stared at me, apparently at a loss for words. That was at least, until this shocker tumbled out of her mouth and into the blue.

"Ryan, you're a great kisser!"

I stared at her, speechless and she stared back at me, with those big brown sparkling eyes of hers. As if she had suddenly realized what she had just said, her eyes widened and she blushed a shade of fiery scarlet. Looking away and avoiding my eyes, she got up and strode into the house, locking herself in her bedroom. That night at dinner, she didn't speak a word about it to me or make any mention of what had happened. Needless to say, the incident has never been brought up again.

But enough about Sharpay. This is supposed to be about me finding a girlfriend, right? Honestly, I don't think that dating my twin sister would help my rep very much.

Annnnyyyyyywaaaaay.

Tomorrow is the first day of school. Woo hoo. Can't you just feel my excitement? Let's just say I'm not the biggest fan of school. I mean, East High is great and all "Go Wildcats!" and this year should be pretty different, considering all the odd events that occured this summer at Lava Springs, but like...I don't want to go.

The idea of spending six hours a day, five days a week for ten months straight stuck in a building where they make you learn what the square root of x + y divided by 242 is (which I don't know, by the way) makes my stomach hurt.

What's even worse is my schedule and the classes I'm forced to take this year. Tomorrow morning, bright and early, the first class of the day is...Poetry. I think I will go shoot myself now.

I can hear my mother yelling at me from the hall to turn off the light and go to bed. I am mature enough to decide my own bedtime, Mother. I am staying up.

"Fine, then I won't come tuck you in, Rybear."

Well...goodnight, everybody.

Ryan Evans...OUT!