Sorry guys but schools started again which means my updates will most likey only happen on week ends. I'll try for weekly updates but my work load is promising to be insane this year so we'll just have to see what happens.

Diaries are stupid.

Why would I pour all of my feelings into a stupid book that anyone could read? There are only so many places that a person can hide a diary (all of which I would probably forget about, effectively losing said diary). My point is that my mom tried to give me one yesterday so I could 'embrace my feelings about the pressures and struggles of living in this fast paced society of ours'. It sounded like she wanted me to write a book not my innermost personal feelings. Although I am still debating whether she was high or not (right now I'm leaning towards guilt and 'good parenting' books).

My first and (I assure you) only attempt went something like this;

Dear Diary,

…Screw this.

So I decided to think outside the box, outside the circle, even outside the octagon…I'm using the diary as a dream journal (you know in case I ever want to psychoanalyze myself or something). And man have I got a good one to write in my first ever entry, excluding my attempt to use it as a normal diary that is. Do I have to start it with 'Dear Dream Journal'? Not if I don't want to right?

I wish the internet had answers to stuff like this instead of porn sites and stuff. You know what, it's my dream journal I'll do want I want. And I choose not to write it (take that diary writer…people, is that what they're called?)!

Dear Dream Journal (Have I no spine?),

I walked into lunch and sat down next to Taylor like I've done for the past two weeks. I'm pretty sure we were talking about random unimportant stuff because I don't really remember it, it might have been about…our lunch (just a guess there)? All of a sudden one of the basketball guys stood up (no it wasn't Troy, I don't even think he was at the table when it happened) and he started to sing (no really he did, he wasn't bad either).

"You can bet there's nothing' but net
When I am in the zone and on a roll
But I've got a confession
My own secret obsession
And it's makin' me lose control"

I turned to Taylor as the other jocks urged everyone to come listen to the guy, "Is…Is he singing?"

"Oh yeah, they do that sometimes." She shrugged and went back to eating her sandwich as if some crazy singer basketball player wasn't a big deal. Yeah, right. As it turned out the guy liked to bake and I quote 'strudels, scones, even apple pandowdy' (I don't think that's even a real pastry) and Crème Brule, whatever that is (if I don't know what it is how can I dream about it…weird). I was seriously freaked now, so of course Martha had to start singing.

"Look at me and what do you see?
Intelligence beyond compare
But inside I am stirring
Something strange is occurring
It's a secret I need to share"

Without even looking up from her lunch Taylor joined the rest of my table in encouraging this freak fest. Where was the rational, no nonsense Taylor I knew? Why was everyone singing? And why couldn't I have a normal dream once in a while?

Martha likes to dance apparently and no offense to her or anything but…HUH? Since when do homework loving nerds dance? Since never that's when and I'd like it to stay that way thank you very much.

"Listen well, I'm ready to tell
About a need that I cannot deny
Dude there's no explanation
For this awesome sensation
But I'm ready to let it fly"

At first I admit that I thought the newest singer (a long haired guy who looked kind of wasted yet innocent at the same time) was talking about drugs or sex or something illegal at first. But no, his 'awesome sensation' was nothing less than playing the cello. Talk about a freeing experience. And now the same idiots (dream Taylor included) that were just supporting their friends-who had randomly (if you ask me…and it was my dream…) burst into song-were now singing about the status quo. Some of them had even started dancing…on tables. I'm sorry but that will never happen in a million years, a million billion years (yes, I am aware that I sound like a three year old in denial).

Then Sharpay was leaning against the railing of the second story (because even though we have such safety measures as 'no heels higher than two inches' at our school, let's build a two story cafeteria then only use a flimsy bar to keep students from falling). And actually she did. Fall I mean, my self appointed worst enemy (I probably would have ended up hating her anyway but you never know…) opened her mouth to sing (I assume, I mean everyone else was singing and I am a creature of habit and this was my dream so it makes sense), leaned farther over the rail (idiot), and fell. I'm serious, the railing snapped and down she toppled.

Which is probably why I woke up laughing.

Until my next dream,

Gabriella

They say that dreams are usually based on internal feelings, repressed fears, old grudges, excitement that the hottest guy in the school is trying out for the musical with you (you know, the usual). Then again I don't actually know who 'they' are so I might be misinformed. Assuming that I'm not though (and honestly how often am I wrong?) what is my dream trying to tell me?

I found out at lunch the day. My dreams are telling me that I have ESP (sweetness!).

It started out like any other normal lunch period, after buying my lunch I passed the jock's (coughTroy'scough…ahem) lunch table heading towards my own when I caught a snippet of their conversation.

"I was in the zone man. I'm serious ten baskets, nothing but net each time."

"No way."

"Wanna bet…" At this point I had started hyperventilating and hurried off to my own table. I was still trying to convince myself that I was just imagining it or something when Taylor interrupted my train of thought.

"What are you looking at?" Apparently I was still staring at their table, a split second later her eyes connected with the group of jocks and cheerleaders who were (for lack of a better term) freaking out, "What are they doing?"

Exactly what they were doing I found out when Martha came back. She had left the table to find out what was up and she had been gone for a good five minutes. I was starting to wonder if she had suddenly gone crazy or fallen in love with a British guy (I've heard those Brits are bad news) and gone to elope with him or something. The good news is there's no guy (British or American actually), the bad news is the uproar is about the guy (I guess there is a guy...) who scored ten baskets and guess what?

He bakes.

Good old Martha didn't even give me any freak out time though. Nope, she just launched right into a story about loving Ballet and Tap dancing but then she wasn't any good so she tried hip hop. And surprise, she loves it but was afraid to tell us before.

Now call me old fashioned but I personally feel that we (geeks, nerds, dorks, losers…the list goes on) should not partake in any sports (ping-pong is fine cheerleading is not). We're just not equipped to handle them, we shut ourselves in a room and read, therefore not using our muscles (though after turning thousands of pages in books my hands are surprisingly strong). Bottom line, Martha had forsaken her duties to people like us everywhere. And why? So she could 'pop, lock, jam, and break' (it sounds like a burglary technique, not a dance one).

Of course by now I was completely insane, after all I had found myself with unwanted psychic abilities and one of my friends was ummm…jamming (or was it breaking?)…on the table (while everyone else yelled at her to get off).

The punk-y/ Emo (Mohawk wearing, skinny jean clad, black shirts…you know the kind) people two tables down joined the chaos when one of their members refused to hang out after school because of cello practice (I don't know if you've ever seen a cello but it looks like a giant violin, seriously you could murder someone with one of those things).

And then Sharpay came into the picture, I guess she was trying to sing one of her songs from a past musical but I couldn't hear her over all the noise (I think the whole cafeteria was arguing by now and Martha was still dancing, I was trying not to look at that). Apparently neither could she because she approached the railing (and I admit I was kinda hoping she would fall).

"EVERYBODY QUIET! A girl can't hear herself sing with all this noise." She huffed after every single person in the whole room fell silent, for such a Barbie that girl has a dominating presence. Stupid Troy and his bad timing had to pick that exact moment to walk in. Then, I don't know how he spotted me, I was one of hundreds, (maybe it was my electric blue and lime green striped shirt, I'm talking big fat blinding stripes) but he did.

"Gabriella? What's going on?" Um hello? Did I look like I knew? Oh my God, I thought, what if Troy had ESP too? What if he was reading my mind right now? I tried not to think about how good he looked at the moment.

"Dude, it's you!" Baker-boy shouted out to him, "We heard about the audition. I hope you make in man." Word travels fast in this school, we hadn't even done the audition yet.

"Yeah if you can sing I can dance!" Martha called out before we (finally) pulled her down from the table.

Making my way over to Troy I attempted to settle the crowd, "No, no really it's fine. Go back to your lunches, forget about baking, dancing, and music! Just…be one with your clique!" My words were met with a huge uproar, I guess wanting order was in the minority of student interest.

"Hey, this is kinda crazy. Wanna escape before Sharpay murders us?" Troy asked motioning towards a side door, truthfully anywhere would be better than the cafeteria, students were yelling (and dancing) again. I had something important to say first though.

"Troy I think I have ESP." Upon seeing his blank expression though I switched tactics, "I think I'm pschic."

"Oh, that's cool. C'mon." Was all he had to say on this very important matter. You'd think he'd at least want to know how I knew, but I didn't care if he never mentioned it again, you know why?

Because at that moment I'm (nearly) positive that he meant it.

Please Review! I simply adore (do I sound like Ms. Darbus?) hearing what you all think about this fic. I can't stress enough how much con/crit and encouragement help me!