Concerning Cantaloupes
The office people aren't very helpful. They show you the special Book To Write Lost Stuff In and then tell you that you can wait till Judgement Day and still not get it back. Then they look irritated when you attempt not to look irritated.
I don't blame them for being unwilling to open the auditorium just so that I could poke around inside for a file that, although MOST likely there, is not guaranteed to be worth their while. They reason, and rightly so, that the eternal gratitude of one adolescent won't account for a lot in their sorry lives. It's not as if I'm going to sneak them fifty-dollar notes. However, my O level Chinese credentials AND my O level entry proofs for this year are in that file and I WANT THEM BACK. Not to mention my notes, the homework due today, the homework due yesterday, the homework due last week and, yes, even the embarrassingly stupid sketches. Understanding their boredom of sitting in a silly office day after day pandering to the whims of Heads of Department and other demanding people doesn't make you feel appreciative to be at the receiving end of their bloody indifference to your needs.
They'd better be receiving a pay cut sometime soon.
Can't bestir yourself over one measly student? One less reason to love Dunman High. In any case, if i don't get my O level entry proof back, I wouldn't be able to take the exam. They'll never be able to get rid of me. If i die of shame when I see all my classmates graduating a year before I do, I will make their remaining lives, very shortly to be cut short, a very inventive misery. They'd be wishing they'd gone to the Abu Ghraib instead.
Does this sound whiny and teenage enough? When I do use the word 'teenage', I use it as a swear word. Anyone calling people of my age group teenagers (except some people, who really ask for it) deserves to be transported back in time and made to relive what he/she did back in the rock'n'roll era where they'd wear impressive afros, elvis pants, shoulder pads the size of cantaloupes (I mean nothing against cantaloupes! Self-sacrificing like their orange-fleshed cousins, a wonderful sources of beta-carotene, high on water and low on the calories, I've always said) and CLOGS. I'd love to watch them squirm.
The next time I'll probably enter the auditorium is for that pointless ceremony on Friday. Which means two agonizing days enduring lessons and surprise tests without my notes, vital examination rubrics, worksheets, or the homework that was due last week. I'll even have to buy more foolscap, because all I had was in that damn, damn file.
Please let my parents understand why I will be failing the next Emath paper.
I don't blame them for being unwilling to open the auditorium just so that I could poke around inside for a file that, although MOST likely there, is not guaranteed to be worth their while. They reason, and rightly so, that the eternal gratitude of one adolescent won't account for a lot in their sorry lives. It's not as if I'm going to sneak them fifty-dollar notes. However, my O level Chinese credentials AND my O level entry proofs for this year are in that file and I WANT THEM BACK. Not to mention my notes, the homework due today, the homework due yesterday, the homework due last week and, yes, even the embarrassingly stupid sketches. Understanding their boredom of sitting in a silly office day after day pandering to the whims of Heads of Department and other demanding people doesn't make you feel appreciative to be at the receiving end of their bloody indifference to your needs.
They'd better be receiving a pay cut sometime soon.
Can't bestir yourself over one measly student? One less reason to love Dunman High. In any case, if i don't get my O level entry proof back, I wouldn't be able to take the exam. They'll never be able to get rid of me. If i die of shame when I see all my classmates graduating a year before I do, I will make their remaining lives, very shortly to be cut short, a very inventive misery. They'd be wishing they'd gone to the Abu Ghraib instead.
Does this sound whiny and teenage enough? When I do use the word 'teenage', I use it as a swear word. Anyone calling people of my age group teenagers (except some people, who really ask for it) deserves to be transported back in time and made to relive what he/she did back in the rock'n'roll era where they'd wear impressive afros, elvis pants, shoulder pads the size of cantaloupes (I mean nothing against cantaloupes! Self-sacrificing like their orange-fleshed cousins, a wonderful sources of beta-carotene, high on water and low on the calories, I've always said) and CLOGS. I'd love to watch them squirm.
The next time I'll probably enter the auditorium is for that pointless ceremony on Friday. Which means two agonizing days enduring lessons and surprise tests without my notes, vital examination rubrics, worksheets, or the homework that was due last week. I'll even have to buy more foolscap, because all I had was in that damn, damn file.
Please let my parents understand why I will be failing the next Emath paper.
posted by the zen thing at 6:21 pm
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