Yesterday
WHITE SIDE
Pong (describing something about the speed of light): [suddenly] do you have a pen? I'm going to draw a very tortured-looking fish.
Gay (lambasting Wynne over the phone): madame, your tardiness is SILLY!
BLACK SIDE
After dinner my mother invaded my room and remarked, very condescendingly, that since I frittered my saturdays away out of the house and I spent so much moneey, it was time I got a job.
It seems that the year of trying to hammer 'I go out TO study' has been quite fruitless. Especially because if I stay at home on specifically, Saturday mornings, nothing gets done.
It's not as if I play with my tablet on weekdays because I'm a frivolous nut who doesn't care about her grades. I play with my tablet and make bookmarks and read and draw because if I didn't, to quote XT, I'd go mad. I don't go overboard with this stuff but neither am I a mindless fucking grades machine. I'm barely holding the fort with the work, I'm tired all the time, I'm bloody trying to pick up on the mess she partly got me into and she wants me to go and find a job.
I wouldn't mind in the least if my family really needed the money or something, but what she was busy insinuating ridiculous. It's not really up to me if the History photocopy fees escalate and I find I have to go to her humbly to beg for the cash because my parents steadfastly refuse to give me a regular allowance -- on the premise that I'll stop eating if they do. So if I want anything I have to go and toady for it. Idiot. Every time she comes floating in to give me an Inspirational Little Talk (ILT) she will remind me smugly that I am deep in her debt, up to the neck.
I told her to go away.
She said, 'Don't tell me to go away.'
Well then go to HELL!
footnote
upon hearing that out of approx 800 people 106 had received sub-passes and 389 ungraded for the H2 math mid-year(these are accurate statistice by the way), she said, quite reasonably, 'then why aren't you one of the better ones?'
I'm not really furious any more, since it's tomorrow already, but she's utterly convinced that I'm going to flunk my EOYs and get retained, and she'll be humiliated. It never does occur to her that I might be more worried about my future than she is. It is, after all, my future.
Did homework (i.e. math) until I dropped to sleep last night. Couldn't sleep very well, got up at 1 to do a math problem, and to write down the rant up there because it was bursting out of me like the reverse peristalsis whatever-it's-called you get before you finally spew the vomit.
my brother leaves for Paris, Venice and Slovenia for the international math olympiad tonight. My mother wants us all to go and take pictures because, after all, it's her first-born son. She's already laid out my nicer clothes half an hour ago.
It's ten in the morning.
At this moment she is preparing a spa for my brother. I'm not sure if he appreciates being ordered into things that are good for him. He's as introverted as I am. But on the normal day he does get this much less shit than I do.
If all it takes to stop that whining is for me to freaking not fail math, I'm sure as hell going to try. Not as if I haven't been trying.
Perhaps I should have just chocked innocently on my ghastly soya bean milk formula when I was a baby already.
Pong (describing something about the speed of light): [suddenly] do you have a pen? I'm going to draw a very tortured-looking fish.
Gay (lambasting Wynne over the phone): madame, your tardiness is SILLY!
BLACK SIDE
After dinner my mother invaded my room and remarked, very condescendingly, that since I frittered my saturdays away out of the house and I spent so much moneey, it was time I got a job.
It seems that the year of trying to hammer 'I go out TO study' has been quite fruitless. Especially because if I stay at home on specifically, Saturday mornings, nothing gets done.
It's not as if I play with my tablet on weekdays because I'm a frivolous nut who doesn't care about her grades. I play with my tablet and make bookmarks and read and draw because if I didn't, to quote XT, I'd go mad. I don't go overboard with this stuff but neither am I a mindless fucking grades machine. I'm barely holding the fort with the work, I'm tired all the time, I'm bloody trying to pick up on the mess she partly got me into and she wants me to go and find a job.
I wouldn't mind in the least if my family really needed the money or something, but what she was busy insinuating ridiculous. It's not really up to me if the History photocopy fees escalate and I find I have to go to her humbly to beg for the cash because my parents steadfastly refuse to give me a regular allowance -- on the premise that I'll stop eating if they do. So if I want anything I have to go and toady for it. Idiot. Every time she comes floating in to give me an Inspirational Little Talk (ILT) she will remind me smugly that I am deep in her debt, up to the neck.
I told her to go away.
She said, 'Don't tell me to go away.'
Well then go to HELL!
footnote
upon hearing that out of approx 800 people 106 had received sub-passes and 389 ungraded for the H2 math mid-year(these are accurate statistice by the way), she said, quite reasonably, 'then why aren't you one of the better ones?'
I'm not really furious any more, since it's tomorrow already, but she's utterly convinced that I'm going to flunk my EOYs and get retained, and she'll be humiliated. It never does occur to her that I might be more worried about my future than she is. It is, after all, my future.
Did homework (i.e. math) until I dropped to sleep last night. Couldn't sleep very well, got up at 1 to do a math problem, and to write down the rant up there because it was bursting out of me like the reverse peristalsis whatever-it's-called you get before you finally spew the vomit.
my brother leaves for Paris, Venice and Slovenia for the international math olympiad tonight. My mother wants us all to go and take pictures because, after all, it's her first-born son. She's already laid out my nicer clothes half an hour ago.
It's ten in the morning.
At this moment she is preparing a spa for my brother. I'm not sure if he appreciates being ordered into things that are good for him. He's as introverted as I am. But on the normal day he does get this much less shit than I do.
If all it takes to stop that whining is for me to freaking not fail math, I'm sure as hell going to try. Not as if I haven't been trying.
Perhaps I should have just chocked innocently on my ghastly soya bean milk formula when I was a baby already.
posted by the zen thing at 9:59 am
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