a sixth sense cannot make up for a complete lack of common sense
the resident
-best known as May Ching-
-09/01/1990-
-19 years 1.2 months-
-mugger/slacker/writer-
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Friday, May 02, 2008, 6:32 pm
Hello.Am simultaneously very angry, sad and confused. Bloody hell, I must have not recovered from my illness. Like the old people say, I've been touched in the head.
I went back to school today, happily enough even while dreading the evils of three impending tests, one of which was the much-feared Chem SPA. It was wonderfully breezy during morning assembly, the strong winds bringing ominous dark clouds with it. And I was happy, because dark clouds mean RAIN. Anybody who knows me well knows how much I love rain. I have been known to openly ignore shelter to walk in drizzle. Everytime I am 'forced' to sprint through a heavy downpour, I do so while giggling openly. Okay, I'm freaking people out now.
GP TCA first thing in the morning was alright, except 5 minutes to the end of the paper, I was wishing that I'd did another question instead. But at least it's not actual 'A' Levels. The main disadvantage of it was exhausting the writing hand way before Chem SPA.
Nothing eventful (Ms. Loh gave us the period to study)after that. It was a wise decision, in my opinion. It gives her the feeling of still being in control. If she had demanded we have a tutorial instead, the class would have both defied her by secretly studying under the table PLUS hating her for not having a heart. One must take note of such political maneuvers. If you ask me, teenagers are a terribly rebellious bunch.
Chem SPA was a lot less stressful than I predicted. I did, after all, study at home by setting myself a 7- and 9-compound mock paper with phenols, halogenalkanes and alkenes thrown in, apart from the usual suspects. There were 5 compounds in this paper, all of which were not particularly thorny. I suffered the common malady of a severely cramped writing arm (not content with just a hand, I have to put the entire arm out of commission). But it was alright. Yay me!
DIGRESSION HERE
While I was sick and off my medication, I suffered a series of psychologically disturbing and... increasingly twisted dreams, (I was going to write 'perverted' but i just know somebody out there is going to interpret it as sexual in nature. Get a life, my friend.) thanks to delirium from the bloody high fever. I postulate in my weakened state, my dark subconscious escaped and manifested itself. As most people know, I am partially conscious when dreaming and the rational mind was able to watch what was going on. Let's just say that these dreams are nowhere near healing in nature. Thankfully they stopped after I went on meds.
Things aren't the same, though. I feel... different. Changed, if you will. I only just realized it after going back to school today
AND HERE WE RETURN TO THE MAIN NARRATIVE
Yes. I got angry with my class for no reason at all. Then I saw someone's face and got even more pissed. Then it went away. Later on, feeling rather alarmed, I tried to act normal and ended up in a coughing fit.
Maybe it was stress from Chem SPA, but I became rather irritable. Mr. Leow's early release of the class (another brilliant political strategy!) did nothing to quell the mood swings. (And they say he has perpetual PMS. He got nothing on me.)
The final straw was when I tried to talk to my friend and got asked to wait. And wait. And wait. I hit boiling point and stalked away, mumbling "Why do I even bother,". And what? Ha. Now it gets ludicrous. Nobody noticed.
Now, I can't speak for anywhere else because I spent my formative years here, but, in Singapore, people walk on eggshells. Everybody hates at least a somebody but you can never tell because they never let it show. The air is thick with suppressed hatred and backstabbing and bitchiness and false smiles and fake cheer. BUT I CAN'T STAND IT. You can say I'm crude with no political sense (but you won't. You'd smile sweetly in front of me and say it discreetly to your group of friends once my back is turned). It's true, I have no stomach for politics and the games people play.
Ha, ha! This is where it gets interesting.
My point here is that people don't tell other people to their face that they can't stick them. I, unable to fit into this environment, go around feeling like a blasted lightbulb, to use the quaint phrase. (Who says blogging is detrimental to English? Go look up the bombastic words in the online dictionary and improve your vocabulary.)
Now, I can't tolerate being overlooked. Ignored, okay. Tolerable to a limited degree. Vilified, feh. I had the entire Primary 2 hate me for a month. Been there, done that. Treated as an object of curiousity? I could live with that. I spent Sec 2-4 like that. But treated as a mere tool? Never.
I love school simply because it doesn't make me feel like an outsider. Sadly, the same can't be said about the people there. People who gossip and backstab. People who recognise my existence and presence(!) when they have need of my services, then immediately forget me.(There are a lot in this category.) People who can't be trusted. (There are so many two-faced people in school, one might think that there are 2,400 students in JJ rather than around 1,200.)
*Takes a 5 minute break to check email.*
Ooh, I've won a Stikfas toy! :) It's from the N.E. Mation voters' contest. But I need to go collect the wretched thing personally from Mediacorp. Anybody know where the hell is Andrew Road?
Keeping anger bottled up inside is certainly unhealthy. How does one vent it? Blogging, of course. If not, you'll surely die a painful, lingering death.
Death? That's interesting.
*Takes a 1 hour break to surf the Internet about suicide, death, yada yada.*
After reading all that crap, confirmed I'll never commit suicide. That's stupid. Suicidal people think they have nothing left to live for. I don't. If you want me dead, well, you're going to have to kill me.
Eh, now that's over and done with, I can put my mask back on and rejoin the masquerade. Let the mask parade begin.