I never really understood why people said that ^.
... Anyway. Let's hear Ari's reason for not being on deviantART!
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...
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She's a lazy bum.
WAIT! THERE'S MORE!

You see, yesterday, our fine unfeathered protagonist brought home her report card. Which consisted of the usual six As and three Bs. Unfortunately, she was 1% away from making Principle's List. But she doesn't really care about that, despite being Asian, she thinks grades are a bunch of blahooey, and that she could being doing super well if she forsakes her dignity for a few measly marks.

PAH. For, if you can understand, our heroine here is very. Very. VERY. Proud. (It's one of her major failings, even though she really has nothing to be proud about.)

Anyhow, after bringing home the horrendously above average report card, her parents were dismayed by the ineptitude and stupidity of this protagonist, and proceeded to berate her. Bringing up the subject of money. Oh money. The God of the Present and Future, all hail thee. The wealthier thou art, the holier thou art. Ahem. If I may, first translate the tirade (and responses) from Mandarin, and record it thusly.

"What is wrong with you? What university will accept you based on these marks? LANGARA COLLEGE?! [If I may intrude, Langara College, while not prestigious, has been proven to have better teachers than the almighty UBC] With such a pitiful degree, what corporation will hire you? McDonalds?! Pah! How much money do you think you need anyway?"
-- "..."
"WELL?!"
-- "20 - 30 thousand?"
"20 - 30 thousand?! YOU REALLY THINK THAT'S ENOUGH? HA! That's enough to make you happy? Living in a hovel, eating gruel, the shame, the bane of our honorable family? Disgracing our family name?"

And it continues. Our melancholic protagonist sits and endures the ranting. I would also like to point out, that our protagonist is also one of those people who will be happy with a computer (provided the computer is fast enough), a DSLite, a cellphone, and a not terribly uncomfortable bed to sleep on. Yes, our protagonist would not give a fine figured pickle about living in a Downtown East Side apartment, provided she does not die.

Eventually, the maternal figure and paternal figure come to a revolting, repugnant, and altogether atrocious decision.

Our heroine must cease all activities that bring her joy.

Dragon-boat.
Art.
Playing the piano.
Surfing the net.

But our heroine is of clever, well, if not clever, extremely stubborn, stock. She'll surreptiously draw. And upload. And sneak in computer time. And exaggerate greatly her tale of how she was horribly mistreated by her so called family.

... Actually, I'll probably be more likely to update now that I'm not allowed to. Seriously. I will. I promise. If to do nothing else but piss off my parents.

Oh, and I'll update with details from my trip to Paris/Provence/Barcelona. Included are: pillow fights on airplanes, hobos, scrumptious French milk, not very delectable alcohol, and the jacket that cannot be afforded.