screwed up day part 2
written: 7:16 p.m. on Monday, Feb. 16, 2004

And after Literature Paper One class ended, most of my classmates were going, "Why am I here? Why didn't I go to (insert name of better-ranked JC)?" Some of them turned to me, went, "Yelen! Why didn't you go to SAJC? You could've got in!"

(SAJC = Saint Andrew's Junior College, or at least I think the apostrophe 's' is supposed to be there)

It's so damn depressing. I love my Paper One teacher as he's so awesome but he won't even get to teach Lit anymore. Instead, he's stuck teaching General Pointlessness, which inspires me to say, why stay in such a stupid, undeserving place then? Just get the fuck out! After all, he's too good for a dump like JJC. The majority of the student population can neither speak good English nor Chinese (not sure about the Indians and the Malays, as I obviously don't understand their languages), and downsizing the Literature department is an obvious sign that there is fuck-all emphasis placed on the arts and the English language, AND we're still wondering why our percentage of GP passes never seem to cross the 80% mark, and that, my friend, is fucking pathetic.

I mean, we all know that I'm somewhat of a snotty elitist, but I am very much justified in feeling this way. Just take a stroll along any corridor in that stupid college and listen to the way the students speak. In fact, enter any female toilet during break time, and you'll know what I mean.

The difference between St. Nicks and JJC is a vast difference between class. Even the Love Fiesta couldn't take off the way it should've, simply because JJC lacks class. We have no culture. We're simple-minded and shallow and I don't collocate with the rest of them in any way, shape or form, and I've had enough of that place, but there's nothing that I can do about it except to grin and bear it. And my grin is wearing thin, with each day that passes, with every incident of sheer stupidity and incompetency that I encounter.

Which brings me to my next point, the other reason that got me all pissed off today. I mentioned the NUS History Seminar a while back, for which I'm supposed to be the speaker of my school's "team". My stupid demented teacher did up the PowerPoint presentation and everything, which is cool, nothing wrong with that, except a few grammatical and punctuation errors here and there that I was correcting while going through the slides. She briefed me sometime back on what to do with the thing, and I got the impression that I was supposed to write a speech to deliver. I mean, duh, right? PowerPoint presentations barely cover the flesh of one's presentation, and it merely presents the skeleton.

So yesterday I was all stressed up trying to come up with something, and okay, so I took the escapist way out and took a nap in the afternoon, after which I went for Maths tuition at 5, and when I came home I read the papers and added the entry about Valentine's Day, and when I wanted to continue with the speech, I couldn't access the file on the old computer and I typed it on my mom's computer, which is a newer one. It was late and I was tired and I wanted to watch "Waterboys" so I decided, forget it.

So today I graciously told her that I haven't finished the speech. She made a fuss, and long story cut short, I told her that I'd do it by tomorrow, DESPITE THE FACT THAT I HAVE AN ECONOMICS TEST ON MARKET FAILURE TOMORROW FOR WHICH I HAVE NOT EVEN STUDIED. So I left the class feeling all irritated and pressurised, like I could crack any moment, but if I'd known that my troubles weren't going to end just there, I would have certainly cracked, without a shadow of doubt.

Lunch time. Mel and I went past the staffroom on our way down to our CCA club room. Unfortunately, my stupid demented History teacher was there, along with the rest of the seminar "team".

"Just give me one minute," she said. We sat down. "Give me 15 minutes."

So what the fuck do you want, one minute or fifteen? 'Cause it makes a great difference, if you haven't realised. The difference between one and fifteen isn't -- gasp -- five, but FOURTEEN.

I don't know how things got to this point, as I was damn pissed off the entire time, but she berated me for not preparing my speech, and somehow, she twisted everything around and apparently, I don't need to write a speech as it's "all being done for me".

"But Demented Teacher, you only gave me the essay and the powerpoint slides!"

Demented Teacher: YES! That's your speech!

So what the fuck now, the powerpoint slides are my speech? What the hell is the point, then, of someone reading from the slides when the audience is perfectly capable of reading them themselves, seeing as they're in JUNIOR COLLEGE and not in JJC?

And how the hell am I supposed to merely read from the powerpoint and still salvage my pride? No fucking way. I'd bore everybody to tears.

And that's not all. Oh no, things can NEVER be so simple with such a demented piece of shit. She went on to rant about how it's so easy to read from a piece of paper, which is like, duh, of course, unless you're an illiterate fool, but fuck me, I thought we're doing a goddamn PRESENTATION here, not a stupid reading aloud session. And then she made it sound as if it were my fault that things weren't progressing. In the end, she told the guys -- useless bunch, really, except one of them -- to get a copy of the slides each and read them for her tomorrow.

So where's my role in all of this, then? Since it's so simple to read from the slides, why the hell do I have to do it then? I was roped in on the basis that the guys have no presentation skills, with which I fully agree, but since the task is simply to read from the fucking slides, which any retard can do, why the hell am I still involved? Obviously you don't need me anymore, since reading is so damn easy.

I so want to pull out of this incredible farce. I can't work with such an idiot. And I refuse to represent Jurong Junior College on the basis that it refuses to respect Literature for the great art form that it is. I don't give a fuck anymore. The teacher is a stupid, old demented archaic fool. She can just go stuff it, fuck herself and die, whatever.

I was so pissed off that I was ranting at almost the top of my lungs when I finally got to meet Mel for lunch. Poor girl had to put up with my "Fuck her lah that stupid fucker!" and whatnot.

I'm still incredibly annoyed but I shan't let it bother me too much. I'm studying for my Econs test tonight; I'm not going to start failing again, after breaking my failing streak last year with the production and cost test. I hate failing, you know. But I think I'll fail tomorrow's test anyway, since there's no MCQ but a data response questions section instead and I have no idea how to do such things. Bleah. Fucked up, life truly is.

On a very much brighter note though, I talked to Feather today!

Okay, so that's a major exaggeration, but yeah, this is just me. So what happened was, after Econs tutorial was GP and I lingered outside Mel's GP classroom, which is right beside mine, and rapped with her and Princess, all the time waiting for Feather to appear. Unfortunately, he was late, as per usual, and my hag of a GP tutor arrived earlier, so Princess and I decided to go to the toilet instead.

This isn't important so I shall fast-forward to after GP class ended. By the way, we did silent reading for GP class again. Doesn't that totally remind you of primary school? I slept though, right in front of the teacher, who's actually nice but unfortunately ineffective and thus, obsolete. And when there's Feather, everyone (except my tutor last year) would seem inadequate.

Anyway, GP class ended and I got out of there quickly. Went to look for Mel; wanted to make arrangements with her for lunch... and to catch a glimpse of Feather, of course. Mel saw me from her darkened classroom and opened the door, and she invited me into her classroom with a knowing smile, like, "Wanna come in? Feather's in there!"

I declined, for I had a Paper Four Lit class, but Mel and I talked at the door, she leaning against the door and I, against the frame of the door or whatever the hell it's called. And a while later Feather proceeded to walk out of the classroom, and I took the chance to say hi to him.

He looked at me, smiled (arrghhh!!!!) and said 'hi' back.

That's all. I got all excited and schoolgirl-ish over that. But maaaan that man is so damn beautiful! You should see his smile; it's brilliant!

That tiny encounter had me smiling throughout the next period, and shortly after he left, I started squealing while Mel laughed at me and squealed with me at the same time.

I'm quite embarrassed by my inane behaviour but I think this is definitely better than feeling so angsty and moody and pissed off all the time. Feather is the light, and so are my mates, of course, but he makes me look forward to GP classes, a thing I abhor, just so I could look at him.

Hahahahahaha. I'm an idiot. And I have to study for Econs so that's all for now.

before sunrise // before sunset

Previously:
- - Tuesday, Aug. 29, 2017
I'm moving. - Sunday, Jul. 11, 2010
In all honesty - Tuesday, Jul. 06, 2010
What I want for my birthday... - Sunday, Jul. 04, 2010
On Roger's behalf. - Friday, Jul. 02, 2010