Apologia
Apologia
I’m back! After studying all day and night for the past three weeks…Oops, my nose is growing real fast. Ouch! It just hit the monitor. All right, I confess already, hold off on the proboscis enlargement. I did not study all that hard during the recent exam period (recent as in ended only on the 28th). Instead of staying at home and hitting the books like I should have, I went cruising the mall looking for tennis shoes for my father—I rarely even so much as step into malls on normal days, but during exam period, I strolled around the shopping complex for several hours and didn’t even buy anything! Also, I went to the beach on a church outing. Appropriately, it rained and poured, and the sand turned to soggy muck. And after that, I still did not learn my lessons (as I should have) and went out on a round of all the local resorts late one night, after which I got home in no state to study. Of course, I have been suitably punished. One does not loaf off during important examinations and not suffer consequences. My grammar underwent a curious lapse during the English examination, as a result of which I have not gotten the top spot again. I shall have to remedy that, of course, in the actual SPM. The acronym, I assume, stands for Stinking Purple Muck. Of course, I had extenuating circumstances. (Mooting has its advantages, one of which is that one gets quite adept at spotting loopholes when necessary.) My dad insisted on all of the above ill-advised excursions.
My dad came home on the 9th of September after being away since last October. No, he didn’t run out on us, he went to work in Shanghai, and he just got a one-month holiday to stay with us. That, of course, means that we sent him a mile-long shopping list and that his luggage was several kilos overweight. Cost him plenty at the airport, but then it was balanced out by the amount he managed to save by haggling over everything. Anyway, we changed all the curtains and bed sheets in the house; I’ve got a bunch of new gel pens and ink refills; I’ve got a new watch (Casio hand-me-down—my dad’s used it for the last ten years); and the fridge got stuffed full of chocolates. Toblerone city here we come! And, after that, we may proceed to the dentist and the nearest Sumo Training Centre.
I didn’t get onto the Name List of Doom. I guess my reputation precedes me—or they decided that I wouldn’t fit in (or some classmate told them I’d eat them all out of house and home). In any case, I’m so glad. Jack says I’m just unlucky I’m not on the list, but I don’t think so. Unlucky to have escaped three months away from the computer and to have avoided ninety days of torture? Yeah, right.
I had the flu, and so did half the class. Either they gave it to me, or vice-versa, or it was an epidemic. I think the rainy weather caused it; we’re now in the middle of a monsoon, I think, according to my old Geography lessons. Much good they did me! (My Geography was one of the reasons I was bumped off to second class last year; fortunately, clearer minds realised that a mind like mine deserved better and put me in first class this year.)
Generosity is still alive and well, as evidenced by the fact that I was given a whole box of chocolates on Wednesday by the sister of my sister’s classmate (SOSC). Characteristic of my famous kindness towards inferior beings, I shared some with Herr Robson, Kelvin, and the Book-Hater. Herr Robson chose to bite the paw that fed him chocolates, though, and took more than his share, so I shall be publishing another little list on his more undesirable traits at the end of this post.
The results of my piano exam got back awhile ago, but I couldn’t post them. I got 125/150 points, merit grade. These results, of course, are better than those of the charitable classmate and Kelvin. I’d gloat (I’d love to), but I think I’ll show mercy this time. After all, it’s nice just to know I’m better than the charitable classmate in some respects at least.
Forecasts are all the rage in the class these days. It seems as if everyone has a little form they want the teachers to fill up with their probable SPM scores so they can apply for some course or another. I’m not decided myself—I’m still dithering between biotechnology, biochemistry, or journalism—but maybe I’ll go for the A-levels. That is, of course, if I qualify, which may, or may not, be likely, depending on my forecast results.
I borrowed the Artemis Fowl trilogy from a friend on the 19th and finished reading all three books by the 20th. Speed reading can be a pain. However, the books were great, almost a perfect read. And besides, almost no annoying foreign languages to deal with, apart from D’Arvit, which is a swear word in Gnommish (the fairy language). Besides, the books came with a little code that took me a few minutes to break—alphabetically based, so all I had to do was find the corresponding symbols and letters. Elementary, really, but I’m not boasting. It was a very simple code, and I’m really no good with most logic problems. The Cue Ball has been ranting on and off for awhile about the Form Five’s attitude problems and has predicted a life of squalor and misery for us all. Not that I actually listen to him, anyway.
The Second List of Why Herr Robson should be a Role Model
…He has his future all mapped out.
…He has already plotted world domination.
…He knows about three languages.
…He can curse in seven different languages.
…He knows tonnes of history.
…He’s the local expert on Hitler’s life.
…He’s humble.
…He realizes that he is second only to Einstein.
…His face is unique.
…His face is an exact image of the surface of Mars.
…His hair always fits school regulations.
…His hair looks just like Hitler’s.
…He knows what he wants and is determined to get it, even if it belongs to somebody else.
…He has taken several courses in pick-pocketing and cat-burgling—and passed with flying colours.
…He makes people around him think.
…He makes people around him wonder how he got into the gene pool.
…He is a biological wonder.
…Leading scientists think he is the missing link between humans and apes.
I’m back! After studying all day and night for the past three weeks…Oops, my nose is growing real fast. Ouch! It just hit the monitor. All right, I confess already, hold off on the proboscis enlargement. I did not study all that hard during the recent exam period (recent as in ended only on the 28th). Instead of staying at home and hitting the books like I should have, I went cruising the mall looking for tennis shoes for my father—I rarely even so much as step into malls on normal days, but during exam period, I strolled around the shopping complex for several hours and didn’t even buy anything! Also, I went to the beach on a church outing. Appropriately, it rained and poured, and the sand turned to soggy muck. And after that, I still did not learn my lessons (as I should have) and went out on a round of all the local resorts late one night, after which I got home in no state to study. Of course, I have been suitably punished. One does not loaf off during important examinations and not suffer consequences. My grammar underwent a curious lapse during the English examination, as a result of which I have not gotten the top spot again. I shall have to remedy that, of course, in the actual SPM. The acronym, I assume, stands for Stinking Purple Muck. Of course, I had extenuating circumstances. (Mooting has its advantages, one of which is that one gets quite adept at spotting loopholes when necessary.) My dad insisted on all of the above ill-advised excursions.
My dad came home on the 9th of September after being away since last October. No, he didn’t run out on us, he went to work in Shanghai, and he just got a one-month holiday to stay with us. That, of course, means that we sent him a mile-long shopping list and that his luggage was several kilos overweight. Cost him plenty at the airport, but then it was balanced out by the amount he managed to save by haggling over everything. Anyway, we changed all the curtains and bed sheets in the house; I’ve got a bunch of new gel pens and ink refills; I’ve got a new watch (Casio hand-me-down—my dad’s used it for the last ten years); and the fridge got stuffed full of chocolates. Toblerone city here we come! And, after that, we may proceed to the dentist and the nearest Sumo Training Centre.
I didn’t get onto the Name List of Doom. I guess my reputation precedes me—or they decided that I wouldn’t fit in (or some classmate told them I’d eat them all out of house and home). In any case, I’m so glad. Jack says I’m just unlucky I’m not on the list, but I don’t think so. Unlucky to have escaped three months away from the computer and to have avoided ninety days of torture? Yeah, right.
I had the flu, and so did half the class. Either they gave it to me, or vice-versa, or it was an epidemic. I think the rainy weather caused it; we’re now in the middle of a monsoon, I think, according to my old Geography lessons. Much good they did me! (My Geography was one of the reasons I was bumped off to second class last year; fortunately, clearer minds realised that a mind like mine deserved better and put me in first class this year.)
Generosity is still alive and well, as evidenced by the fact that I was given a whole box of chocolates on Wednesday by the sister of my sister’s classmate (SOSC). Characteristic of my famous kindness towards inferior beings, I shared some with Herr Robson, Kelvin, and the Book-Hater. Herr Robson chose to bite the paw that fed him chocolates, though, and took more than his share, so I shall be publishing another little list on his more undesirable traits at the end of this post.
The results of my piano exam got back awhile ago, but I couldn’t post them. I got 125/150 points, merit grade. These results, of course, are better than those of the charitable classmate and Kelvin. I’d gloat (I’d love to), but I think I’ll show mercy this time. After all, it’s nice just to know I’m better than the charitable classmate in some respects at least.
Forecasts are all the rage in the class these days. It seems as if everyone has a little form they want the teachers to fill up with their probable SPM scores so they can apply for some course or another. I’m not decided myself—I’m still dithering between biotechnology, biochemistry, or journalism—but maybe I’ll go for the A-levels. That is, of course, if I qualify, which may, or may not, be likely, depending on my forecast results.
I borrowed the Artemis Fowl trilogy from a friend on the 19th and finished reading all three books by the 20th. Speed reading can be a pain. However, the books were great, almost a perfect read. And besides, almost no annoying foreign languages to deal with, apart from D’Arvit, which is a swear word in Gnommish (the fairy language). Besides, the books came with a little code that took me a few minutes to break—alphabetically based, so all I had to do was find the corresponding symbols and letters. Elementary, really, but I’m not boasting. It was a very simple code, and I’m really no good with most logic problems. The Cue Ball has been ranting on and off for awhile about the Form Five’s attitude problems and has predicted a life of squalor and misery for us all. Not that I actually listen to him, anyway.
The Second List of Why Herr Robson should be a Role Model
…He has his future all mapped out.
…He has already plotted world domination.
…He knows about three languages.
…He can curse in seven different languages.
…He knows tonnes of history.
…He’s the local expert on Hitler’s life.
…He’s humble.
…He realizes that he is second only to Einstein.
…His face is unique.
…His face is an exact image of the surface of Mars.
…His hair always fits school regulations.
…His hair looks just like Hitler’s.
…He knows what he wants and is determined to get it, even if it belongs to somebody else.
…He has taken several courses in pick-pocketing and cat-burgling—and passed with flying colours.
…He makes people around him think.
…He makes people around him wonder how he got into the gene pool.
…He is a biological wonder.
…Leading scientists think he is the missing link between humans and apes.
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