OMS
As dictated by Faranza Syns
If you've been reading my blog lately, you'd understand the abbreviation. If you haven't, well... What can I do, eh?
Does anyone want to venture a guess as to how many 5 Sc. Alpha students were present today? Go on, take a guess.
Done?
Alright, I'll tell you the real answer.
Twenty-seven of us were absent.
So minus twenty-seven from thirty-three. Go on, humour me.
Six.
Only six people (pupils?) from Alpha were present today. But let's just assume Aly, Ian and Chu Meng who went for the PPDA Competition were present. So that makes the it nine. Still, less than a quarter.
I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I'm starting to feel the lameness taking hold if me. The strong effect of herd mentality kicking in. At recess, I wondered why I was stupid enough to not debate the topic of my attendance to school with my dad.
But let's look at it this way: at least for once there was no queue for the food.
My writing is beyond horrible.
No, I don't blame myself. I blame the pen.
I have a deceptively beautiful handwriting. I just need to find The Pen. The ultimate pen that would bring me to recesses unknown. The one and only brand that would make my handwriting look like a work of art. Screw Picasso. I'll make it look like angels have graced it with their ethereal beauty.
What brought about this ... crazy, lop-sided, self-consumed rambling, you ask?
Pn. S.
She could not understand a word that I wrote for my composition. After she marked through it (on the spot, mind. It scared me to tears. I had to sit with KY and Cat, and start making lame jokes just to distract myself), she called me over.
And went though every single agonizing mistake that I've done.
And I mean agonizing.
I think I had more mistakes than a blind secretary had during a 1000-words-per-minute dictation (no offense intended towards secretaries worldwide). And I wrote a 2000-words (give or take a few hundred) composition, so it was... horrifying.
But, I made quite a few discoveries:
I, surprisingly, like to repeatedly use the word "merely". Me and Pn S. had quite a fun time hunting down the words.
Everyone in my story seems to be "breaking out" into/out/on something. A run, a smile, and... God, don't ask anymore. I can't stop laughing.
My "S" looks like an "I", an "R" and occasionally, quite mysteriously, it looks like a comma. My "W's", my "N's" and my "M's" tend to be jumbled up.
I blame the pen. Damn pen.
And okay, okay. So maybe I should've paced myself, and not write everything in a rush. But I was writing the thing within a few hours. Two-hours, tops. And when I get an idea, I can't stop writing. No matter how much my hand was aching.
Hence, the bad handwriting.
And then, half-way through, I wilted against the table, so mortified that I couldn't even depend on my backbone anymore. Yes, I really "wilted".
When she wants to torment you, she has a whole repertoire of subtle techniques. Don't be fooled.
But towards the end, as she wrapped up the summary of my work, she said the words that never fail to fuel a student's spirit: "But overall, the story was good—interesting—, and
Despite my burning cheeks, I beamed at her, feeling close to bursting deep inside.
It's because of moments like these that I bother doing her homework at all. She gives comments on your whole essay, making you actually learn from your mistakes. Some teachers don't bother; they just grade your essay, and then add a few inconsequential words that once upon a time, when we were in Standard Three, would've made us go "Wahhh! Teacher says my karangan is good!"
Not anymore. We're growing, and we're wanting more to feed our souls.
At least I find that in Pn S's class.
Now I have to practically stop myself from taking another irrestible look at my essay.
Damn, I can't stop myself.
Ah, and I've just realised that my vocabulary has dwindled to merely(god, there goes the word again) a few oft-used words. I wonder when that had started to happen.
Ah, well. There's no helping it, I guess. I have to start reading books again.
Before I make this confession, promise to not yell at me.
Promise?
If you haven't... ooooh, what the heck.
I have never watched the Sound of Music.
*takes cover* (God, I just know Tarrant, and even Amanda, will flip).
But anyways, we watched a quarter of the whole show at the Audio Visual Room just now, at school.
Ah, bliss. Now, I'll go ahead and start downloading the whole show, if you'll excuse me.
On a more serious note (in comparison with what I've said so far)...
Do you people suppose I should just quit blogging?
Because I have a feeling that it's something inevitable.
Today, I've felt a little maudlin, yes, but without a doubt, I also felt left out in a way. Maybe it's just the loneliness gnawing on my arse, but I definitely felt like things are too much of a bother. Making friends, maintaining that friendship, beating your conscience senseless when you do something wrong towards one of them, beating your sanity to the breaking point when they start seeming as if they don't entirely enjoy your company anymore. Giving yourself heartache over small, unimportant things.
Bothersome, isn't it?
But then, there comes a moment when things would just run smoothly, allowing you the blissful pretense that life is worth the agony after all.
Life, you big cheater.
Anyways, back to the topic at hand.
Should I just close this blog since I don't entirely have the heart to blog anymore?
People rarely drop by anyways.
So I fail to see the point of keeping up.
Maybe I shouldn'y even bother asking. Yes, I shouldn't ask. So don't answer.
I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.
Does anyone want to venture a guess as to how many 5 Sc. Alpha students were present today? Go on, take a guess.
Done?
Alright, I'll tell you the real answer.
Twenty-seven of us were absent.
So minus twenty-seven from thirty-three. Go on, humour me.
Six.
Only six people (pupils?) from Alpha were present today. But let's just assume Aly, Ian and Chu Meng who went for the PPDA Competition were present. So that makes the it nine. Still, less than a quarter.
Pn. Rashidah: Farhana~
Me: *pauses*
Pn Rashidah: How many people came in your class today?
Me: ... Five, teacher. (you can never be too sure what to answer, so since this answer was safest because it warrants no extra learning for Saturday, EVERYTHING GOES!)
Pn Rashidah: Five only, ah?
Me: *nods with mock gravity*
Pn Rashidah: How about Gamma?
Me: I have no idea, teacher. But less than half, I think.
Pn Rashidah: *gives cynical look*. Hmmph, it'll be less than that.
Me: .... Okay. Less than a quarter, then.
I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I'm starting to feel the lameness taking hold if me. The strong effect of herd mentality kicking in. At recess, I wondered why I was stupid enough to not debate the topic of my attendance to school with my dad.
But let's look at it this way: at least for once there was no queue for the food.
____________________________________
My writing is beyond horrible.
No, I don't blame myself. I blame the pen.
I have a deceptively beautiful handwriting. I just need to find The Pen. The ultimate pen that would bring me to recesses unknown. The one and only brand that would make my handwriting look like a work of art. Screw Picasso. I'll make it look like angels have graced it with their ethereal beauty.
What brought about this ... crazy, lop-sided, self-consumed rambling, you ask?
Pn. S.
She could not understand a word that I wrote for my composition. After she marked through it (on the spot, mind. It scared me to tears. I had to sit with KY and Cat, and start making lame jokes just to distract myself), she called me over.
And went though every single agonizing mistake that I've done.
And I mean agonizing.
I think I had more mistakes than a blind secretary had during a 1000-words-per-minute dictation (no offense intended towards secretaries worldwide). And I wrote a 2000-words (give or take a few hundred) composition, so it was... horrifying.
But, I made quite a few discoveries:
I, surprisingly, like to repeatedly use the word "merely". Me and Pn S. had quite a fun time hunting down the words.
Everyone in my story seems to be "breaking out" into/out/on something. A run, a smile, and... God, don't ask anymore. I can't stop laughing.
My "S" looks like an "I", an "R" and occasionally, quite mysteriously, it looks like a comma. My "W's", my "N's" and my "M's" tend to be jumbled up.
I blame the pen. Damn pen.
And okay, okay. So maybe I should've paced myself, and not write everything in a rush. But I was writing the thing within a few hours. Two-hours, tops. And when I get an idea, I can't stop writing. No matter how much my hand was aching.
Hence, the bad handwriting.
Pn S: I couldn't make out a word you were trying to write.
Me: Okay, okay! *embarrassed beyond words*
Pn S: *smiles* And the examiner will be the reading your writing for the first time.
Me: *insert unidentifiable, tortured sound* Okaaaay. I'll make it better.
And then, half-way through, I wilted against the table, so mortified that I couldn't even depend on my backbone anymore. Yes, I really "wilted".
When she wants to torment you, she has a whole repertoire of subtle techniques. Don't be fooled.
But towards the end, as she wrapped up the summary of my work, she said the words that never fail to fuel a student's spirit: "But overall, the story was good—interesting—, and
Despite my burning cheeks, I beamed at her, feeling close to bursting deep inside.
It's because of moments like these that I bother doing her homework at all. She gives comments on your whole essay, making you actually learn from your mistakes. Some teachers don't bother; they just grade your essay, and then add a few inconsequential words that once upon a time, when we were in Standard Three, would've made us go "Wahhh! Teacher says my karangan is good!"
Not anymore. We're growing, and we're wanting more to feed our souls.
At least I find that in Pn S's class.
Now I have to practically stop myself from taking another irrestible look at my essay.
Damn, I can't stop myself.
Ah, and I've just realised that my vocabulary has dwindled to merely(god, there goes the word again) a few oft-used words. I wonder when that had started to happen.
Ah, well. There's no helping it, I guess. I have to start reading books again.
____________________________
Before I make this confession, promise to not yell at me.
Promise?
If you haven't... ooooh, what the heck.
I have never watched the Sound of Music.
*takes cover* (God, I just know Tarrant, and even Amanda, will flip).
But anyways, we watched a quarter of the whole show at the Audio Visual Room just now, at school.
Ah, bliss. Now, I'll go ahead and start downloading the whole show, if you'll excuse me.
______________________________
On a more serious note (in comparison with what I've said so far)...
Do you people suppose I should just quit blogging?
Because I have a feeling that it's something inevitable.
Today, I've felt a little maudlin, yes, but without a doubt, I also felt left out in a way. Maybe it's just the loneliness gnawing on my arse, but I definitely felt like things are too much of a bother. Making friends, maintaining that friendship, beating your conscience senseless when you do something wrong towards one of them, beating your sanity to the breaking point when they start seeming as if they don't entirely enjoy your company anymore. Giving yourself heartache over small, unimportant things.
Bothersome, isn't it?
But then, there comes a moment when things would just run smoothly, allowing you the blissful pretense that life is worth the agony after all.
Life, you big cheater.
Anyways, back to the topic at hand.
Should I just close this blog since I don't entirely have the heart to blog anymore?
People rarely drop by anyways.
So I fail to see the point of keeping up.
Maybe I shouldn'y even bother asking. Yes, I shouldn't ask. So don't answer.
I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.
Because we'd been hoping for that miracle.
Cat: Eh, do you know who ***'s with now?
Me: ... ***'s with SOMEONE?
KY: Eh, eh, don't tell her la! It's a secret!
Me: ... Eh, KY... How come it feels like so many people are in relationships now?
KY: Yeah... When will our turn be?
Naturally, I understood what he meant. Which was 'when would we individually get into our own relationships?'
Somehow, Cat misinterpreted. And she started laughing, thinking KY was flirting with me. KY and me stared at her, wide-eyed. Then we started correcting her, laughing along.
It makes me wonder...
When will my next dose of ice-cream be?
If you didn't get it, you're really slow on the uptake.
Cat: Eh, do you know who ***'s with now?
Me: ... ***'s with SOMEONE?
KY: Eh, eh, don't tell her la! It's a secret!
Me: ... Eh, KY... How come it feels like so many people are in relationships now?
KY: Yeah... When will our turn be?
Naturally, I understood what he meant. Which was 'when would we individually get into our own relationships?'
Somehow, Cat misinterpreted. And she started laughing, thinking KY was flirting with me. KY and me stared at her, wide-eyed. Then we started correcting her, laughing along.
It makes me wonder...
When will my next dose of ice-cream be?
______________________________
#1: Can match box?
#2: Tin can.
If you didn't get it, you're really slow on the uptake.
Why do I have to keep falling just for your sake?
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