A Little Rant
I have just finished experiencing the most intense fury and disappointment I've had for some time. Guess what? My Math paper just came back, and from the looks of things I'll be lucky to get a C.
Now what you have to understand is that I'm accustomed to doing well in Math, and that means usually As or Bs, more often As than Bs, and almost never Cs. Looks like this is going to be my first time.
And one other thing is that I hate to lose. Allow me to restate that. I HATE TO LOSE. And in my terms, intelligence is THE ultimate goal. The better your intelligence, the higher you go in my sight. So far, I've usually managed to stay pretty far up in my own opinion. And that means that when exams come around, I always play to win. That is a nicer way of saying that I turn into SuperKiasuMan and start looking around to make sure nobody is going to be better than I am in my chosen field/s.
For your information, my chosen fields are English and Maths. At the moment it's also Biology, since I've been getting straight As for that so far.
Not this time.
This time, I barely managed to tie with Cheeky. Cheeky! The guy who got dengue and missed one week of class! He missed one whole week of class and notes, and he photocopied them, and I took them down firsthand, and it was all I could do to keep abreast of him!
And Jowl, no less! And Gambler! And Sue Me! I would like to go into a long litany of swearing here, but I'd just work myself up into a brand new fury and tap a whole in the keyboard.
OK, so just the losing isn't such a bad thing, and I already didn't really expect a high score since I couldn't do the second question anyway (which carried a rather high mark and for which there was a formula which I stupidly forgot), but I didn't expect my uber-low score to come out of my stupid carelessness!
A messily-written number turned "192 divided by x" into "192x". A mistaken formula turned the differentiation of pi x cubed into pi x squared. And that brought about a chain reaction (it was a very pivotal calculation) that left the rest of that question wrong.
And now, of all things, I'm depending on my Applied Math to bring me the A I covet. Yeah, Applied Math, the subject I love so much that I skip it whenever I can. The one for which the teacher has so touching a speech impediment that it moves me to scorn whenever I hear it. The one for which my score has never topped 35%...
Do you know what my fury feels like to me? The overpowering urge to hurt something and destroy anything, if only it would be something alive? I wanted so desperately to hunt a caterpillar and take it to pieces. An ant's nest. A bee. Anything would do if only I could vent my anger on something sentient.
Right now, I've suppressed that urge enough to type this out, somewhat calmly (on the surface at least). But I'm mad anyway. Raging. Angry.
I never, never, do badly on exams that I want to do well at! Or at least I didn't until today. It's... enraging. I can't think straight. I just want a nice frog or rat to dissect or something. Maybe if I'm lucky I'll come across a wannabe robber and I'll be able to merrily bludgeon the felon with my backpack, then go back whistling with my anger spent.
Of course, I've never been able to whistle, but that's beside the point.
On a more enjoyable note, I got my first-ever beesting last night. A bee flew into my room, hit the electric light a few times, then got whacked by the flat of the ceiling fan's blades three times (by which times I was tracking it already, so I know), and then fell onto my bed.
So I picked it up. (I didn't know it was a bee then since it didn't have those yellow-and-black stripes.) Then I made what my room-mate thinks is the dumbest question of the century: "Is this a bee?"
Right about then, it stung me. Fortunately it wasn't a killer bee or a bumblebee, since that would've meant I wouldn't be typing this now. (Bumblebees lose their sting when they inject, because the sting and its muscles get pulled out: it means that the sting continues injecting venom for 20 minutes of pure agony.)
And it's a good thing I had the presence of mind to put soap on the finger, since alkalis dilute the acid in the sting (which causes the pain), so the swelling's gone down and my finger feels just fine. As opposed to the rest of me.
I think right now it's just a case of badly hurt pride, but I don't think it's fatal. What's certain is that when my English test scores come back, I'll make sure I make the most of the gloating opportunity.
Now what you have to understand is that I'm accustomed to doing well in Math, and that means usually As or Bs, more often As than Bs, and almost never Cs. Looks like this is going to be my first time.
And one other thing is that I hate to lose. Allow me to restate that. I HATE TO LOSE. And in my terms, intelligence is THE ultimate goal. The better your intelligence, the higher you go in my sight. So far, I've usually managed to stay pretty far up in my own opinion. And that means that when exams come around, I always play to win. That is a nicer way of saying that I turn into SuperKiasuMan and start looking around to make sure nobody is going to be better than I am in my chosen field/s.
For your information, my chosen fields are English and Maths. At the moment it's also Biology, since I've been getting straight As for that so far.
Not this time.
This time, I barely managed to tie with Cheeky. Cheeky! The guy who got dengue and missed one week of class! He missed one whole week of class and notes, and he photocopied them, and I took them down firsthand, and it was all I could do to keep abreast of him!
And Jowl, no less! And Gambler! And Sue Me! I would like to go into a long litany of swearing here, but I'd just work myself up into a brand new fury and tap a whole in the keyboard.
OK, so just the losing isn't such a bad thing, and I already didn't really expect a high score since I couldn't do the second question anyway (which carried a rather high mark and for which there was a formula which I stupidly forgot), but I didn't expect my uber-low score to come out of my stupid carelessness!
A messily-written number turned "192 divided by x" into "192x". A mistaken formula turned the differentiation of pi x cubed into pi x squared. And that brought about a chain reaction (it was a very pivotal calculation) that left the rest of that question wrong.
And now, of all things, I'm depending on my Applied Math to bring me the A I covet. Yeah, Applied Math, the subject I love so much that I skip it whenever I can. The one for which the teacher has so touching a speech impediment that it moves me to scorn whenever I hear it. The one for which my score has never topped 35%...
Do you know what my fury feels like to me? The overpowering urge to hurt something and destroy anything, if only it would be something alive? I wanted so desperately to hunt a caterpillar and take it to pieces. An ant's nest. A bee. Anything would do if only I could vent my anger on something sentient.
Right now, I've suppressed that urge enough to type this out, somewhat calmly (on the surface at least). But I'm mad anyway. Raging. Angry.
I never, never, do badly on exams that I want to do well at! Or at least I didn't until today. It's... enraging. I can't think straight. I just want a nice frog or rat to dissect or something. Maybe if I'm lucky I'll come across a wannabe robber and I'll be able to merrily bludgeon the felon with my backpack, then go back whistling with my anger spent.
Of course, I've never been able to whistle, but that's beside the point.
On a more enjoyable note, I got my first-ever beesting last night. A bee flew into my room, hit the electric light a few times, then got whacked by the flat of the ceiling fan's blades three times (by which times I was tracking it already, so I know), and then fell onto my bed.
So I picked it up. (I didn't know it was a bee then since it didn't have those yellow-and-black stripes.) Then I made what my room-mate thinks is the dumbest question of the century: "Is this a bee?"
Right about then, it stung me. Fortunately it wasn't a killer bee or a bumblebee, since that would've meant I wouldn't be typing this now. (Bumblebees lose their sting when they inject, because the sting and its muscles get pulled out: it means that the sting continues injecting venom for 20 minutes of pure agony.)
And it's a good thing I had the presence of mind to put soap on the finger, since alkalis dilute the acid in the sting (which causes the pain), so the swelling's gone down and my finger feels just fine. As opposed to the rest of me.
I think right now it's just a case of badly hurt pride, but I don't think it's fatal. What's certain is that when my English test scores come back, I'll make sure I make the most of the gloating opportunity.
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