Grousing
Here I am, once again in the death grip of the Slimy Purple Muck. It’s not as bad as one might think, though. It appears that the recent Malay New Year celebrations have mellowed the test setters somewhat, as the few papers I’ve taken so far are quite definitely not the horrible, torturous experiences that I was envisioning before. In fact, I would almost be confident about obtaining A1’s for them all, if not for the fact that a paper that is easy for me will almost certainly be easy for the rest of the nation, thus causing a disruption in the grade curve, and therefore that I will have to do particularly well to get good grades. I hate irony.
At least I’m on a holiday of sorts now; with only EST on Saturday, I have until then to goof off. This is mostly, of course, because nobody ever studies for EST except those who are linguistically challenged. It’s so easy that I think of it as a guaranteed A, there only to fill up blank space on the certificate. Not, of course, that I’ve gotten straight A’s for it all the time. So maybe that means I do have to study for it? Answer: No. I never study for English subjects, except English Literature, and I still do well on them. Note the amazingly useful advantage of knowing English!
I’m technically an only child for the time being, as my quartet of siblings has deserted me and run off to the Big S to be with my dad. It’s a bit of a pity, and is more irony (bah!) as I used to want them to shut up when I was studying. (They never did, of course; those of my classmates who have visited my house know how my siblings’ tongues can run on and on and on.) Now, on the other hand, most of the subjects are over and done, and I wouldn’t mind a little noise around the place. So, naturally, they packed up and left.
Then again, life is full of partings and meetings, so I might as well get used to it. People come, people go. It’s a fact of life, which I keep getting reminded of whenever I realise that there are less and less days for me to annoy everyone around me. The countdown has started: only so many days to go before I have to rebuild my social circle from scratch! Of course, I’m also thinking of it right now because Jack has been sticking up posters announcing the upcoming prom night all over the place. No prizes for guessing whom he plans to invite…that’s right, the charitable classmate! (Or so the rumours say…)
He’s also been nagging ME to go. I wonder what I’d do there. With a face like mine, the chances are a hundred to one if I ever go near the dance floor. With a budget like mine, it would take me a hundred years to save up enough to pay for the ticket (40 bucks). And with an appetite like mine, I’d probably eat the resort out of house and home! Which is obviously the reason why the Pig is so strongly discouraging me from going. And which is obviously not enough to dissuade Jack from trying to pull me into it.
Sure, it’s the last time I’ll see them. So what? It’s most likely that most of the attendees will be with dates and thus too busy to chat with me. So what am I expected to do, stand around near the buffet table and gobble? Seriously…the prom is supposed to be for popular people, isn’t it? I’m not popular, Jack is. So is the Pig. I don’t see why Jack’s trying to pry my precious dollars away from me so that I can go to a big dark room with food in it, and stand around in itchy formal dress watching other people dance the night away. So what if it’s the last time we’ll ever see each other? There’s always email, or the day when we go to get the SPM results. Why should I shell out 40 to go to a prom night, just after taking an exam all day? (This is a rhetorical question, but if the commentators out there want to answer it, it’s fine with me.)
At least it’s rainy. The full show is here, complete with thunder and lightning. I like it that way, but not while I’m having exams, because the room is badly designed and gets far too cold during storms. I don’t like the cold, or being exposed to it; it’s a side effect of being thin. Obviously, the Pig doesn’t have this problem. Anyway, I think that’s all that’s happened so far. You see how drab my life has gotten? I bet it gets drabber. It will, too, after SPM is over, since I’ll be all alone. I’ll probably be reduced to posting up poetry about missing friends and eulogising the good old school days, which will go to show just what I’ll be reduced to. The horror! Oh misery!
…People come, people go. I hate it that way.
At least I’m on a holiday of sorts now; with only EST on Saturday, I have until then to goof off. This is mostly, of course, because nobody ever studies for EST except those who are linguistically challenged. It’s so easy that I think of it as a guaranteed A, there only to fill up blank space on the certificate. Not, of course, that I’ve gotten straight A’s for it all the time. So maybe that means I do have to study for it? Answer: No. I never study for English subjects, except English Literature, and I still do well on them. Note the amazingly useful advantage of knowing English!
I’m technically an only child for the time being, as my quartet of siblings has deserted me and run off to the Big S to be with my dad. It’s a bit of a pity, and is more irony (bah!) as I used to want them to shut up when I was studying. (They never did, of course; those of my classmates who have visited my house know how my siblings’ tongues can run on and on and on.) Now, on the other hand, most of the subjects are over and done, and I wouldn’t mind a little noise around the place. So, naturally, they packed up and left.
Then again, life is full of partings and meetings, so I might as well get used to it. People come, people go. It’s a fact of life, which I keep getting reminded of whenever I realise that there are less and less days for me to annoy everyone around me. The countdown has started: only so many days to go before I have to rebuild my social circle from scratch! Of course, I’m also thinking of it right now because Jack has been sticking up posters announcing the upcoming prom night all over the place. No prizes for guessing whom he plans to invite…that’s right, the charitable classmate! (Or so the rumours say…)
He’s also been nagging ME to go. I wonder what I’d do there. With a face like mine, the chances are a hundred to one if I ever go near the dance floor. With a budget like mine, it would take me a hundred years to save up enough to pay for the ticket (40 bucks). And with an appetite like mine, I’d probably eat the resort out of house and home! Which is obviously the reason why the Pig is so strongly discouraging me from going. And which is obviously not enough to dissuade Jack from trying to pull me into it.
Sure, it’s the last time I’ll see them. So what? It’s most likely that most of the attendees will be with dates and thus too busy to chat with me. So what am I expected to do, stand around near the buffet table and gobble? Seriously…the prom is supposed to be for popular people, isn’t it? I’m not popular, Jack is. So is the Pig. I don’t see why Jack’s trying to pry my precious dollars away from me so that I can go to a big dark room with food in it, and stand around in itchy formal dress watching other people dance the night away. So what if it’s the last time we’ll ever see each other? There’s always email, or the day when we go to get the SPM results. Why should I shell out 40 to go to a prom night, just after taking an exam all day? (This is a rhetorical question, but if the commentators out there want to answer it, it’s fine with me.)
At least it’s rainy. The full show is here, complete with thunder and lightning. I like it that way, but not while I’m having exams, because the room is badly designed and gets far too cold during storms. I don’t like the cold, or being exposed to it; it’s a side effect of being thin. Obviously, the Pig doesn’t have this problem. Anyway, I think that’s all that’s happened so far. You see how drab my life has gotten? I bet it gets drabber. It will, too, after SPM is over, since I’ll be all alone. I’ll probably be reduced to posting up poetry about missing friends and eulogising the good old school days, which will go to show just what I’ll be reduced to. The horror! Oh misery!
…People come, people go. I hate it that way.
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