Next time I'll keep my trips at home

Today was dreadful. And it was a Friday.

Had a nervous breakdown in physics lab and did a big boo-hoo in front of the class. Too painful to recall. It was all the stupid experiment's fault, I was still fucking about with the equipment while everyone else was already merrily swinging marbles (yeah, swinging marbles was what the experiment was about) and then it was 4: 30 and time to pack up. I had almost finished the set-up.

The physics tutor doesn't give a shit about me or whether I'm learning anything or whether it's good for me to have lessons that make me so upset. He wasn't willing to address the whole problem about the practical and just told me: Oh it will get better...blathery blathery blah. He doesn't treat me like a human being. He and the maths tutor are really only interested in chatting up the scholars. They seem to have forgotten that their salaries come from the taxes people like my father and mother pay.

Yap Kian Wee and Lim See Poi. Bad karma is RUNNING after you in a Fury. And you can't do a thing about it.

Looks like its time to evade tax. I've had enough of this place.



On the more important stuff. I'm thinking of either switching subjects or changing my combination by dropping physics. I have no idea what on earth possessed me to take it. Oh yes, its the adults fucked me up. Just like how they did every other time.
Or I will quit school. To become a comic book artist. To go to Lasalle, NAFA or polytechnic. To think about what i should do with the weeks between now and almost certain death (because my luck's so bad that I can't even be let to die properly).

Seriously, I regret to ever coming to this school, and then my decision to stay. I hate the place.

I lost my glasses during swim PE. So I couldn't follow any of the lessons which came after. And I missed KI because its right after PE and I was too busy looking for my glasses, thankfully it was a test period, so I could make it up by doing the write-up during one of my free periods.

The girls' bathroom after swim PE smells of wet, dirty rubber, stale socks and old piss.

PW--poo

Glenn and Lionel are resorting to peer pressure. Making me agree to do their vulcanized rubber thing for Project Work and then turning round to insist I tell them how to do it. When I know absolutely nothx about rubber.

Never knew the opposite sex could get THIS bitchy--I thought I knew. And then I didn't.

I think I heard them complaining about me to their friends. That's taking it a little far ain't it?

Ordinary life

Yesterday I freaked out in the Project Work Room. I'm PW rep and and everybody is bloody irresponsible, especially Phuong. I had to go collect his PI from him, traipsing up to his GP lesson because the teacher wouldn't let him go. Maybe I should have just left him alone, would serve him a lesson in punctuality, time waits for no one, not even short Vietnamese scholars. I feel rather sick as well, he's in my PW group along with two other slackers.

Ack, CCA people are quite alright, as are those from my literature tutorial, but I barely see them.

And guess what? Today I asked a couple of harmless questions and the KI teacher just blew up...in the chilly way. I have no idea if it were Mohit or I who did it. And yet, even if it were me, maybe I'll never apologise for I don't see the reason for it.
Stupidly egotistical. Forgive me I'll grow out of it. All.

Thomas Blackburn

So, Thomas Blackburn,
I'll have to give it more than a cursory scan when I've got time,
Hospital For Defectives
By your unnumbered charities
A miracle disclose,
Lord of the Images, whose love
The eyelids and the rose
Takes for a language, and today
Tell to me what is said
By these men in a turnip field
And their unleavened bread.

For all things seem to figure out
The stirrings of your heart,
And two men pick the turnips up
And two men pull the cart;
And yet between the four of them
No word is ever said
Because the yeast was not put in
Which makes the human bread.
But three men stare on vacancy
And one man strokes his knees;
What is the meaning to be found
In such dark vowels as these?

Lord of the Images, whose love
The eyelid and the rose
Takes for a metaphor, today,
Beneath the warder's blows,
The unleavened man did not cry out
Or turn his face away;
Through such men in a turnip field
What is it that you say?






And for a hint of my darker impulses...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QkhJYsGsi4g
it's totally why guys shouldn't get near to me, I'll do something ba-ad to them.

I'm on a high tonight somehow.

I want to try LSD before I die


just kidding.

Dear computer/internet/whom it may concern...

A big F you. I can no longer assess my livejournal, on which I can conduct illicit secret activities which keep me very much alive.



And have I got something for you, sweet reader... http://food.oregonstate.edu/ref/culture/taboo_allen.html. I wonder what Father Saturn* tasted as he ate his children...
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Goya_-_Saturno_devorando_a_su_hijo.jpg

*Roman counterpart of Chronos.





Complaint
For there are times when I wish to be
and yet not have the words to say.


And oh yeah, I'm no longer interested in getting into Students' Council, not really my thing...have to tell them Monday. No loss to them anyway, they've got no need for a wet blanket like me. OHoho.

Moan, groan, again

I can't believe I actually submitted a Students' Council form... I thought we'd already been through that. I had a talk with my KI teacher today, he told me basically stuff I already knew but hadn't really thought about--as in really thought, the way normal people would before they throw five bucks down the drain and set about photocopying and writing and photocopying.

Students' Council means Student Slaves, or Cheap Labour. And I know that...I know that...ahahaha, I mean, I've already seen how they've got to do all kinds of ushering crap during events, ie. Founder's Day, which I plan to skip next year.

Worse still, BOTH first and second- intake orientation made me really depressed. Like Bernard Marx in BNW, just that they're (the other kids) actually the ones who are most like the readers and I'm just a bloody wet blanket who can't HELP it. But hey, I like it...

But Student Slaves also means something I can put on my SGC (school graduating certificate)...it's a bit of a difficult choice, especially since I'd like to take H3 Literary Criticism and I still haven't gotten down to making any literature notes (for H2), and I've got Debate as a CCA (curse it all, it doesn't look too promising, I've been left out of the swing team for my own school's inter-cols--but there's always EXCO to look forward to, IF I get in). And plus, if I get into SC, I might be able to plan some not-so-corny events.

Bleargh.

Interesting superfluous point: when I went to hand in the form in SC room (Council Room, they call it, a really grand name for a place that's practically overflowing with cheap plastic cabinets and other junk--which is what happens when forty people share a little room), I saw the fellow who was in charge of my orientation group. He quickly went to the back of the room and disappeared from sight. I wonder whether or not there was a correlation in all this? And what does he think I could possibly do to him--say hi? (and hells no I wouldn't)

And there was some really annoying Christian pop song playing as well, called Hosanna (I know becuase they play it just about every Monday during chapel). As a result of this, I couldn't concentrate on my physics practical lesson which came afterward because it kept playing my head...and it's playing NOW, again--!!!

Life seems quite unfair at times

I feel old.
Dreadfully so. I've been looking up the blogs and journals of old classmates, from secondary school all the way back to primary. It seems their lives are on an upward path, blooming into the heartsickening beauty and joy of the bright gaudy hour. after which there is nothing. But for them, the present, the future life seems all there for the taking, there is at least some measure of happiness, some change for the better (although it would be practically impossible to become worse off than they were when they were "young", I'm not saying they've become better people or anything though).

Their legs have gotten longer.
Their faces have become "better", longer, ovalish, whiter.
They are going someplace, as in, they're going to graduate with better CCA records and marks than I will.
They have friends--or rather they can talk to their classmates because they're around the same level in terms of smarts and temperament.
They are going to have more fun than I ever did or will, although they don't deserve it. Becuase they are the same people who crushed me when I was still with them.
The list goes on. And in contrast, I feel old, or more accurately, as if I have never been young. The trajectory of my life seems to have been a long dormant miserable period as a retarded child, through an invisible leap to sudden old age. But in spite of this, nothing seems to have changed. I've remained what I was in face and figure, in fact, I have become heavier and that weight leaves me earthbound. I still don't do well in school. I have no friends and can't get along with the people in my class, or rather, they are indifferent towards me and my reaction is nothing because I can't bother with them.

I seriously wonder if I will spend the rest of my life stewing over unfulfilled ambitions, the wreck of dreams and suchlike. I too was once a child and as that child, I wondered who I would grow up to be. Certainly my dreams have changed, and so have times, but still. But still. The bitterness is there.



Daily life.
My Project Work Group.
I don't care if anyone sees their names, they are just names.
Glenn
Lionel
Phuong.

Just for the heck of it.