Nightmare on my window

So after spraying the shit out of spiders last time, you'd think they'd be gone. Noooo, they're still there, living in the cracks in between the bricks of this house. Today, it rained in the afternoon. I don't know why, but it seems that spiders have a tendency to come out when it rains. I was sitting at my computer watching a Korean drama, then BAM I SEE SPIDERSSSS (note the plural) SCUTTLE ACROSS MY WINDOW. I nearly pissed myself.

So I grab my bottle of insect spray and venture out in the rain. Then there, on my window sill, was a spider which looked like it was of the same species as the ones which had inhabited my window, except IT WAS ABOUT THE SIZE OF A ROCK. Like, omfg, THESE THINGS ARE WORSE THAN HUNTSMANS. A Wikipedia search tells me the species of spider infesting my windows is called the "black house spider", because it is so common. Yeah, okay, what I see matches the image on the internet. BUT OMFG IT SHOULD NOT HAVE AN ABDOMEN WHICH BLOATS TO THE SIZE OF A GUM BALL. WTH.

Of course my first reaction is to spray the shit out of it.

But it was rainy, and windy, and I'm pretty sure the spider didn't actually get sprayed that bad. So when I did spray it, IT JUST CRAWLED INTO THE CRACKS. Then I spray all the smaller ones on my window--- and they scuttle away, frightened, I assume, BUT ALIVE. Then one fell off the window due to the force of the spray, and I yelped jumping backwards. I couldn't find it on the ground, then I became paranoid that it could have attached itself onto me. That's when I stripped down and showered immediately.

I don't remember whether I told you, but I'm mildly arachnophobic.

Argh, maybe I should just call up pest control in the phone book. I guess I don't actually have enough balls to go spider spraying all day long. I swear, there are so many spiders here, my window would be an appropriate setting for the next Halloween horror film.

Ah, Stuff

The moon is so bright tonight. Wish I could sit by a lake in a forest clearing and play music to the moonlight. That would be nice. Instead? I'm at home, sitting in front of my computer as usual, pondering the meaning of my existence. You know, when you reach that state and you feel as if you have everything you've ever needed or wanted in life... what else is there to wish for?

Is it against the rules to wish for a wishing well?

I am literally agitated over NOTHING. It's like I've gotten so used to complaining about everything that I am now complaining for the sake of complaining, when there is really nothing to complain about. I've sorted out everything in the end, and I figured that I don't actually care about most of the stuff going on in my life. Why is it that we feel dissatisfied when the future is so bright?

I have a house. I have a computer with internet access. I have FRIENDS. I have an education, I have a high ATAR, I'm going to a university.Sure there are things I don't have, but those things are trivial anyway. I hate feeling unhappy but not actually knowing what I'm unhappy about. There's something wrong with me.

I want a beach trip. Or just a tour around the countryside. The atmosphere around here is suffocating. I look up at the blue sky, decorated by puffy clouds and a ring of green leaves from surrounding trees--- and I wonder, how can I NOT be happy?

Ah, it doesn't matter.

Shopping

Going shopping with my mother is probably the worst idea in the world next to inserting your dick in a beehive. Seriously. And you're like, OMFG HELP THE LADY CARRY HER GROCERIES, ARE YOU THAT MUCH OF A JERK. Well alright, I can handle groceries. I don't mind pushing a trolley around or like swinging 20kg of rice over my shoulder. But no, this isn't typical grocery shopping; this is CLOTHES SHOPPING.

Clothes shopping with my mother. How bad can it get? The correct answer is "pretty fucking bad". Our tastes in clothing are completely different. It is my honest opinion that the things she makes me wear make me look hungry for cock. As for what I like, well, they're always too dull or childish, according to her. Argh the complete and utter embarrassment, when I cave in and go to the change rooms. Then she makes me step out wearing those clothes, and calls over the shop assistant to comment on how I look. So much "FML", right there.

At the end of the day it was a semi-victory for me, at least. Mum ended up paying for everything, and I found some clothes which I could tolerably wear. however, I am NEVER going clothes shopping with my mother, EVER again. Well, at least not shopping for my clothes. For her I don't care, fine whatever.

Clothes shopping is overrated.

The Teachings of Vanetology

So this religion I started ages ago then forgot all about- you know what, I'm bringing it back. Since I currently have no believers, I guess I'll forcibly recruit some. YOU, yes you, the one currently reading this. You are now a Vanetologist. What, you already have a religion? Well, I believe in co-existence. Huh, what do you mean you don't believe in a thing I say? The why the fuck are you reading this? Reading the words I type regularly is equivalent to going to a church/temple/shrine/whatever. You have already been converted.

What is the ultimate purpose of Vanetology? Well, apart from elevating me to the status of an all-divine being worthy of being worshiped, venerated and revered, the purpose is also to give me all your money. It will cleanse your soul and make you a better person. See, I'm doing you a favor. Money is the root of all evil, and as such I am taking your source of evil off you. Someone has to make the sacrifice, and because I am such a noble, honorable person, I have taken the matter into my own hands. That's right, THANK ME.

All that aside, I am here to preach one valuable piece of information. I, as of today, have figured out the meaning of life. Read it, remember it, and spread it to those around you.

Life, is misery.

To live is to suffer

And to endure the pain

That those you cannot escape from

Bring upon you.

The only resistance we have

Is the smile upon our faces,

So that we can survive

The misery that is life.

No, that didn't come from a sudden bout of inspiration. Some pretty nasty things happened today, which I don't really want to complain about on here because it's embarrassing, awkward and rather stupid. Not that it stops me normally, but yeah, not this time.

In all seriousness- when life gives you shit (which for some of us is pretty much all the fucking time), don't forget to smile. 

The Quest for a Formal Date

I never thought it'd be this hard, finding a formal date. I mean, I thought I was popular, but apparently not popular enough. Actually, it might not be my popularity, it might be the fact that I've turned down all these people who said "I'll go with you" when I bitched about not having a date.

Okay, it's technically my fault, for saying something along the lines of "fuck you" in response to the offer of a pity date. Automated response, can't help it. Well, there was ONE person who I appreciated the offer from, because at least it was a sincere pity date offer. I am 98% certain that everyone else just wanted to shut me up. Bitches.

Woof woof.

Alright, why don't I just go with that ONE pity date I appreciate. Well, because I ultimately don't want a pity date. That's just... too much for my over-inflated ego to take. Me, the grand, almighty me, have to resort to a pity date? NEVER.

Now I don't consider it a failure if I ask someone, I mean, it's kinda OTT to expect other people to ask me instead, with this kind of thing. Except every trial has been a failure, not because they said no to me personally, but it was more of a "I'm not going". That's okay, my pride can handle that. But if I see them showing up on the day... I swear I will stab them to death.

I shall slay them like Romeo slew Tybalt.

I'd totally consider asking that crush of mine to the formal, if they weren't already situated impossibly far away from me. And they said they wanted to be with their best friend, which is fine I guess, except I'm now inclined to call my crush homo for rejecting me. That must be the only plausible explanation. The only reason anyone would choose their best friend over me is if they're homosexual. That's it. End of story.

...I'm kidding, geez. Don't be so jumpy and step out of your gay-rights activist costumes. I don't just run around calling people gay. That'd be mean. Except for that time when a friend said "the sky is blue today" and "let's go sit by the trees". That was so gay.

Alright alright, I'll stop. I really do have nothing against gay people. It's just me trying to make up reasons to tape together my broken, bloody, bleeding heart.

Okay, I'm exaggerating. It's not that bad. But seriously, I want a formal date. The difficulty of this task is actually ridiculous. Anyone got a cheat-code for something like this?

Heaven and Hell

Yeah I really don't feel like doing maths. Bad timing, though.

But I found this totally awesome picture, which amused me. Thought I'd share:

I don't generally appreciate physics, but when I do it's probably inappropriate. Hope none of you are fanatically religious. 

Reminds me of that time a friend of mine said he was going to hell. And I was being all nice (le gasp) and telling him "nah God forgives". Then he's like "oh don't get me wrong, I'm not actually religious and I'd rather be in hell". So he presented me with his logic:

God is male. And old (at least a couple thousand years, even by the Bible, right?). Therefore probably not very sexually attractive. As the devil is the complete opposite of God...

The devil is female. Young. Has large boobies. Is lesbian, because God condemns homosexuality. As the devil represents lust and sin and the whole lot, hell must be like a mass sex zone full of hot lesbians having sex with everyone and everything.

My friend finished his story with: "I'm going there, and I'm going to get laid."

...Uh, not that I'm telling you guys to commit sinful deeds so you can end up like my optimistic friend. I'm just sorta telling you that... even if you think you've fucked everything in life and you're going to hell... hell might not be that bad?

That Moment

I have a maths exam first thing tomorrow morning. I have no idea why I am blogging. I'm still under-prepared. I mean, I've caught up a hell lot over the past few days--- basically doing maths every free moment I have. Except I become horribly unproductive once I'm at home. I take out my maths book, then I leave it on my desk. Switch to Facebook and YouTube etc.

So I find myself currently blogging, and One Direction is on repeat. The sky is beautiful outside, the sun shines the right tone of yellowy-orange, and it makes me want to curl into a ball. It's in blissful moments such as this, when I have complete peace of mind--- that I think to myself, “huh, I'm like, gay."

 Why the fuck else would I be listening to One Direction?

As if liking Justin Bieber and Nicki Minaj isn't bad enough--- actually, I only like Nicki Minaj for her massive tits. That doesn't count. But I legitimately like Justin Bieber for his music. I know it's standard "bad music", because it's not exactly deep and soul warming--- but uh... if I like listening to it, it must have some merit. Isn't that how we judge music, anyway? By how it sounds?

Oh I should get back to maths. Maths schmaths.

All that drama

I'm not a happy person, generally- but that doesn't mean I like being depressed. If I had to state the natural inclination of my mood, I'd say it was flat-line. No joy, no grief; just getting along like everyone else. Of course I'm easily amused these days by my friends and the various things they do, but without their company I tend to return to my flat-line state. Add in my parents, and I find myself becoming one miserable sod.

I don't know how it became this way. Everyday when I return "home" I anticipate some sort of argument or just... a clash of some sort. So the natural solution (as far as I see) is to return home as little as possible, or to avoid interaction for as much as possible. But the situation becomes rather hopeless when I realise I have one hell of a maths exam to revise for--- the test is on Friday, and I've managed to do...jack all. I'm currently staring at my textbook, thinking "oh fuck kill me now, I don't remember this at all". Sure I could revise elsewhere, but it's just inconvenient if the kitchen isn't less than 20m away from my room. No one to bring me sandwiches when I'm revising with an empty stomach, after all. Not that I like sandwiches... I'd prefer a fruit salad or something.

Aside from hating this house and slightly panicking about this maths test which I'm under-prepared for, more trivial concerns fill my mind. Like who to go to the formal (ball, dance, whatever) with. You know how I got rejected a while back. Now that my infatuation has blown over (just as well, it was rather hopeless), I don't even have a target anymore. Going with my friends as "friends" is almost the gayest solution I can think of, trumped only by going with my 80 year old grandmother or something. I guess the problem with having too many friends is that you end up friend-zoning them all, and now I'm just like, "well, fuck".

Well, it shouldn't be a problem- and I never even imagined that my pathetically occupied mind would reach its current state. It's just that I recently observed that almost everyone I know has a date for the formal. I can't really say I want a date- hell, I can't even say I want to go to the formal. In fact, I don't want to go. But the fact is I'm going and peer pressure is getting to me.

It never works out anyway

Ah, fuck it. Why do I even bother thinking about these things when any moment now, either one of my parents could charge into my room and scream their heads off at me. It's like planning family time with your grandchildren when your doctor says your cancer will kill you before you're 20.

I'll be grateful if I can get to school without arguing with Dad in the car tomorrow.

Alcohol

So today at school I went to some alcohol talk. Why the fuck would I go, when I don't even drink? No no don't answer that, that's a rhetorical question. Well you see, my maths teacher (yeah the one who I like and wouldn't shut up about) told me to go to it. As you know I do whatever the fuck he tells me to, because I respect him THAT much.

Like, THAT much.

And as usual I did not regret following his advice. Now I've heard the "don't farrrrking do drugs" and the "don't farrrrrking drink and drive" thing a million times, but this alcohol talk was good because the speaker cut all that crap. What he talked about was legitimately interesting, like what to do if your friend is piss drunk and how to not trigger a false positive on a random breath test. I'll do my part for this society by re-iterating what he said on this blog, so whoever reads it (that didn't go to the talk today) will know what I know.

So apparently eating after drinking alcohol won't help. Funnily enough, the speaker today talked a lot like that voice in my head which I tell you about. He was like, "so compare two stomachs: one with a bottle of vodka, and the other with a sandwich and a bottle of vodka. The common denominator? A BOTTLE OF VODKA." I lol'd so hard. Like, it made so much sense to me, just then. More so than that food will soak up all the alcohol or something. I mean, unless the food was in your brain- then maybe. If you eat, eat BEFORE you're piss drunk so you don't choke on the food.

I remember someone telling me that if you get drunk you should drink water to dilute the alcohol and lower your BAC (blood alcohol concentration). That or something about drinking more water so you piss more and you get it out of your system faster. Yeah... apparently drinking too much water while drunk will kill you. Like, water intoxication. Now I was like "no shit," because of course drinking too much will kill you... but I had no idea how much "too much" quantified as. Apparently "too much" is 3*375mL bottles of water in 1.5 hours. Now if I can still do maths 3*375mL  =  1125mL = a bit more than a litre of water. That, is fucking nothing. When gaming I went through a 3L bottle of Mountain Dew in 2 hours. But that's beside the point.

Moral of the story: don't force water down your friend's throat when they're drunk. If they want water, give it to them, but don't force them to glug it down.

Yeah...no.

What else did he say... oh yeah, don't push your drunk friend into the shower or the toilet or anywhere where there's a lot of glass and hard tiles. Every movie I see some drunk throwing up in the toilet... apparently not a good idea, because if they pass out on the toilet they will crack their head against the toilet bowl. I don't know about your toilets, but I figure they have to be pretty solid to support your weight.

Ah, it was a generally pleasant way for me to receive information. Not that I anticipate getting drunk (now or ever), but I can easily foresee some of my dipshit friends drinking to the extent that they don't recognise their own mother. I guess this is... legitimately... +1 to the number of reasons of "why do I want to study med". Answer? So I can save my friends from choking on their own vomit if the ambulance takes too long.

Hmmm, a legit answer, for once. I'm proud.

Some Weekend

Spent all of Saturday at some party--- I woke up, left the house, and I only got home when it was something like 10pm. Wasn't too bad. Except I felt slightly guilty about not being around to help with the chores and stuff- I suppose my room needs a bit of a vacuuming, and there's a lot of crap which I should really throw out. I spent this morning in relative peace- well, I slept through most of it. My lack of existence in this house made me think- hmmm, this is kind of strange.

Until my parents erupted into an argument about god knows fucking what, all too spontaneously. My sister started crying, I sat at the dining table with food in my mouth, slightly confused. I'd obviously missed something while I was away yesterday or asleep this morning. Either way, there was a lot of shouting, accusations were hurled, like usual neither of my parents thought to blame themselves and neither of them would learn to calm the fuck down.

And I was like, "ah, and THIS was why I didn't want to be in the house."

It was scary, how for that one morning I almost forgot about how shit everything was, and was actually having a nice time. Then reality slaps you in the face like a bitch.

If I could sleep through both Saturday and Sunday, I would. God knows why I used to look forward to weekends.

Tired

I found this while digging the dark corners of the internet:

And I felt philosophically inspired for the first time in a while. Funny, how the quote comes from Pokemon. And I'd write something mildly sophisticated about fate and free will, what makes us who we are etc, except I'm too tired to think logically. It's a horrendous feeling, when your brain turns into a pile of mush and you take twice or even three times as long to do tasks you can usually complete without much thought.

For example, it's taking me a lot of effort to write coherently right now. I'm not sure I've succeeded. I'm writing half a sentence and then writing a different half sentence, then at some point I will realise how little sense everything makes. I should stop.

There's a lot of crap going on in my mind right now. Life's a complete and utter mess, and though everything is on due course, I realise how little annoyances of life can pile up and conglomerate into one undesirable existence- enough to trouble my pathetic mind. I'm stressed and I don't even know where the stress is coming from.

I was enjoying this evening until I was hit with overwhelming exhaustion. It was my intention to stay up all night and play games, but I now realise it is impossible, because my mind is refusing to stay clear. I will no doubt fall asleep during gaming if I push myself. I should rest, anyway, since I have a cold and everything.

You know that feeling, when you wish for nothing but simple joy in your life... and then you realise you are not a very joyous person? No, you probably don't know that feeling. Never mind. Regardless of the situation, I always need that little bit more. There is some invisible barrier stopping me from reaching happiness, always pushing me back to my realm of moodiness.

The trash pop I'm listening to really isn't helping. Music generally improves my mood... and though I must say I like what I'm hearing, I also must confess that it is nothing more than trash pop. On that note--- Nicki Minaj and Justin Bieber are both hotter than I remember.

I think it's a nice song, despite the fact that it has no meaning. As long as it's pleasant to the ear, it's good music, yeah? 

I might be watching this because of her revealing clothes, though.

My perfect fantasy

If everything in this world went the way I wanted... well...

First, I wouldn't have this cold. I would be healthy and athletic, and I would be a bright and happy person. I'd leave this city riding a magical broom in the middle of the night, and the night temperature will be 20 degrees Celsius (because I said so). I would fly to some bustling city, then I'd rest in a massive penthouse. In that penthouse I will have a beautiful maid who is a natural 36D, and there will be hot milk tea and eggs at breakfast, when I wake up. Then I would sink myself in a comfortable sofa and read a novel, or I would sit down before a giant writing desk made of mahogany, and write a novel I have never had the chance to write.  My beautiful maid will remind me when it is lunch, and after lunch I will return to whatever I was doing before.

When it is late afternoon, I will go for a swim at the beach to cool myself down. Let's just pretend that I can swim like an Olympic champion (perfect fantasy, yar?). And there won't be any sharks. Unless it's like my cute fluffy pillow pet shark. Then it's okay. After getting out of the water, I'll have a hot dinner somewhere I can see the ocean, and there will be some fruit and cream dessert. I'll sip a cool cup of juice through a straw after dinner, whilst walking down the beach at sunset, holding hands with someone who has very, very pretty blue eyes. No, not that two-week crush of mine. I would've gotten over them by then--- perfect fantasy, remember?

Then when it gets too dark I'll go back to my penthouse and hop in a bubble bath with a rubber ducky or something. Afterwards I'll go on my computer and play games until I fall asleep on my desk, but then I'll magically warp back to bed. I'll cycle through my activities again and again, until I get bored. Then I'll ride my magical broom and travel to foreign places, and find new ways of entertaining myself.

Hmmm... that doesn't sound impossibly hard to achieve. I just need to marry someone rich and then divorce them for their money. Except for the magical broom thing. That might be a bit difficult. Oh well, who needs magical brooms when you have enough money for first class flights?

If only dreams could come true.

The Glass is Half Full

So I was at school, being all chirpy, because hey, I wasn't at home. I casually update my maths teacher on every single complaint I've had since the holiday started (minus the profanities), lest he misses hearing my rants while we were on break. Then he does that responsible adult teacher advice thing, where he's like "look at things from your parents' perspectives, they have high expectations of you" etc. etc. Of course I nod respectfully whilst thinking "NO."

I'm currently too stubbornly angry at everyone and everything to heed sensible advice. My cold just gets worse and worse. I spend more time coughing than I do breathing. Fuck the world.

There's a chemistry class which I don't really want to go to, because all we're doing is titrating substances, then for one of my maths I'm just like nrrrrghn despite having the best teacher in the world, simply because we're studying matrices and I'm all like "matrices is for faggots". Not that I'd never make that complaint to my ever-passionate and enthusiastic maths teacher, because I don't want to die. 

But matrices is actually so shit. 

I must have droned on some more about life in general, because when my teacher had to go he left me a couple of words. "the glass isn't half empty, it's half full!" It's a common saying, to cheer up the miserable pessimistic sod. I wave goodbye, grateful that he's trying to correct my skewed world views, except in my mind I'm thinking "either way, I still only have half. And even if it's half full--- it's half full of shit."

Despite that, my mood has improved dramatically since school started. All the work I have is kinda blergh. I'm completely clueless at times, but it's actually...okay. Everything is actually okay. 

Yeah, the glass is half full. Even if it's half full of shit, like I say, maybe I should appreciate the fact that I can still fill in the other half with something not-so-shit.

Alternatively, find a new glass.

Trivial Concerns

So you know how a few days ago I was bitching about getting rejected: "WAAAH NOBODY LOVES ME QQ WHY DON'T THEY LOVE ME BACK OMGZ" or something to that effect, and I was a little agitated for a while. Now that I think back to it, I realise, if being rejected by a two-week crush is the worst thing in life, then that's a blessing.

That day where I say I got burnt to shreds because they said "no"... you know what? That wasn't even a burn. There was no real pain felt (because no one cries over getting rejected by their two-week crush), but right now it's like physical pain piled on top of psychological trauma. It just snapped all of a sudden: hey, Dad is way more unlikable than I thought he was.

Comparable to waking up one morning, and having your parents tell you that you're adopted and they've never loved you.

If I could, I'd rewind back two weeks, to that day where I was rejected by that crush of mine. And then I'd be grateful, because they had just set the bar for "how shit life can get". And it wasn't even that bad. One fortnight down the track, Dad smashes the record, and I don't think the record will be beaten in a long, long time, unless someone close to me died or something.

Actually, if I think about it that way, yesterday wasn't that bad. It's not like anyone died, after all. I guess nothing in life is that bad, really.

Therefore every shred of pain I am experiencing right now, it must be nothing.

Except my muscles are aching and my head is throbbing and it really, really, really hurts. I think I've caught a cold from staying outside early morning, wearing only a thin layer of clothing.

Argh, I can't stand it anymore. I'm going to sleep. I don't care that it's 8pm. I'M IN PAIN, GODDAMMIT.

...Pain over trivial concerns.

My Thoughts on Resilience

Well, Everything's A-OK. Look, I'm back in the house much sooner than I expected. Haven't said anything to Dad yet, and I don't think I will for as long as I can help it, lest I enrage him with my words and he has a heart attack. Now that I'm sitting in the comfort of my chair, I think to myself: you know, this is all very ridiculous indeed. Other people get driven out of the house for doing drugs or coming out of the closet, I got driven out for failing a med entrance exam. Seriously?

Dad's going to hold that mark against me for the rest of his life, I can tell. It's thrilling to know that my worth is only equivalent to what I score on a med entrance exam. 

You know, they say resilience is a good thing, but I say too much resilience will only destroy you. Personally I'm not too thrilled with my UMAT score, but I wouldn't sink into depression over that. That's why I can wear a smile on my face when I walk away--- but no, smiling is bad, because Dad did everything in his power to wipe it away. I can figure... if I had walked out of my room depressed, crying, saying that I have no future and that I was going to kill myself, he'd be much kinder to me. 

A rather childish part of me wants to injure myself so I can see regret cross his face. Except I'm not quite sure he would regret it even if I spewed blood right now. The voice in my brain rationally informs me that no one is worth hurting myself for, especially not him. 

Hmm, but the fact that I'm not dying over Dad being an asshole is also resilience, isn't it? So everything is okay, if you can last as long as me. It would be a tragedy if I had just enough resilience in me to get over the UMAT, and then be crushed by my father. 

I just remembered, as he gripped my shoulder in that fight earlier this morning, he asked, "你知道我有什么病吗？" (Do you know what sickness I have?) He said that to prove a point about how I knew nothing about him, because I said he knew nothing about me. And now I'm chuckling to myself, thinking that I should've responded with "神经病" (Technically neuropathy, though colloquially it means "craziness"). 

Yeah, I must be fine if I can find humor in that. 

...School tomorrow. Better get started on my work... Looking forward to it.

I got kicked out of the house

I thought the first time I'd blog on my phone would be when I was travelling, and I'd be in some exotic place, taking pictures using my phone and uploading them for the world to see. I know I have a tendency to romanticise things (it must be a shared fault amongst those who read), but I seriously didn't expect reality to be this crap.

It's about 8 in the morning, and I'm sitting on cold concrete because the park benches are wet with morning dew. I figure I must look like a hobo, with the longish messy hair, red eyes and slip on sandals. Wish I had a haircut. I guess the expensive phone in my hand doesn't match the whole hobo attire, and I can only hope that no one mugs me for it. I don't know what I'll do when it runs out of battery.

So nothing new, fought with Dad again. Voices were raised, he grabbed my collar, I almost punched him except I didn't. I say that with a tinge of regret. It's quite a sin to hurl punches at your own father, isn't it? I calmed down after shouting one line, lowered my voice etc. Dad was furious, accusing me of things I don't believe I'm guilty of. Something about me not doing my part for the family, like not looking after my sister, not doing mum's homework, playing games all day and failing the UMAT. Alright, truth be told, I did play a fair amount of games. And no, I didn't do as much of mother's homework as I could have. Looking after my sister has never been my priority, and I guess by everyone's standards, except for my own, I did fail the UMAT. However, I don't think my crimes were as extreme and exaggerated as he made out to be. What he actually said I have no intention of repeating, but afterwards I figured I should just kill myself if I want him to shut up.

Of course I'm too chicken to actually kill myself, but if I did, in this hypothetical world, I wonder whether his life will be easier. No one to pay fees for, no one to be angry at all the fucking time- actually, I don't take that much away from him. He pays the bills, and that's about the only fatherly role he has fulfilled. He, on the other hand, proves to be detrimental to my psychological health. It's his decision to rage at me all the time, when I didn't even do anything rage inspiring- apart from the gaming.

....Okay, I guess it is my fault. FML.

Though I still don't want to die. I must admit the temptation is increasing though. Better life for him, no life for me. Except I wouldn't mind, because I'd be dead. See, logically it all works out.

But fuck logic.

Now I'm outside, sniffling because of my runny nose. I hope the sun stays out, I'm kind of cold. If it rains I won't be drenched, because I've found myself a shelter. Eh, I'm still alive I'm a first world country, despite currently being homeless. I guess I'll go ' home' when I need to sleep.

No, nothing is that bad. Though in moments like these I realise my academic achievements which has marked me as a person means nothing at all. Having a 99 university entrance score won't save me from catching cold and starving in this horrible weather, after all. Huh, I've been wasting my life learning maths and chemistry and whatever else, all for the future. I should have remembered that if I don't survive the short run, there is no future. Why didn't I take outdoor ed classes instead...?

Oh well. As long as it doesn't rain, I'll be warm. If there exists a god, I'm sure he loves me. It'll be fine. I mean, if today is the worst day in my life, then tomorrow must be better by default. And if it isn't the worst day in my life, then there is no reason to be depressed. It's not the worst day in my life, after all.

I just need to keep thinking happy thoughts.

Strengths and Weaknesses

So I'm crunching through tonnes of med interview data for these med interviews I may or may not receive. Maybe this time next year I'll look back, and laugh at my own retardation before turning back to my pile of legal textbooks, as I try to survive 4 or 5 years of law school. Ah, such dismal thoughts. The logical representative of myself is tugging at my sleeve: why the fuck are you preparing for an interview you might not even get? Though you refuse to admit that you failed the UMAT, you didn't do that great. Your university entrance score is only borderline for med. Let's face it, even if you got the interview, and you performed outstandingly, you might not even get in. So, WHY?

But me, forever the optimist (or rather, just someone blind to the harsh realities of life), continue with my preparation. I've come to terms with myself over the past couple of weeks: no, I don't have that much passion for medicine, but I do have a passion for a career after med school. I figured that being a psychiatrist is something I actually want, and med is pretty much the stepping stone. When I tell Dad he butts in with "you're going to get stabbed by crazy people" and "heart surgeons make more because not many people decide to tough out a heart attack, whereas people could cope with their depression for ages". So to enrage Dad (well, I prefer to think of it as making him understand the feelings I feel), I tell Dad that I'm going to end up a plastic surgeon so I can fondle women's breasts. And they'll pay me for it.

Anyway, back on topic. I was looking at the interview question: what is your greatest strength and weakness? My first thought was, "huh, easy shit. I know me." Then I realised it was a trap. "I can't tell them that my beautiful face is my greatest strength and the fact that I don't give a shit is my biggest weakness. I'll get ripped to shreds!" Then I think about it a bit harder, and I was like, "yeah I can bullshit through the strength part."

Then came the weakness. Not that I can't think of any. I have plenty:
1. I have little concern for most people's feelings.
2. I laugh at inappropriate things.
3. I embarrass myself and those around me if it's entertaining enough.
4. I'm easily irritated. Moody, you might say. One minute sunshine next minute rain.
5. My patience is as long as my attention span. i.e., not very long.
6. I get bored easily.
7. I can become overbearing and annoying, very quickly (see previous episodes of my unrequited "love")
8. Almost nothing is ever worth my effort.

I'd continue, but the list is already at 8 items. That's heaps long. If I had to spill out every bad thing about me the list would go on and on and on and on, and by the end of it you'd think I was Hitler II or something. Okay, maybe not quite Hitler II, as I have nothing against Jews. But you get what I'm saying.

So should I cleverly make up a weakness which actually isn't that bad? So I wanna be a doctor. How about, "sometimes I care too much about other people and get too involved." Or "I can't stand those around me being unhappy and I will go to every effort to brighten their day". Gaaah, any retard can see through that much bullshit, let alone my interviewers. Honesty is definitely NOT the way to go. "I get easily irritated, so if a patient pisses me off I'll pull a Dr. House on them." Well, that's not really honesty, that's just stupidity.

Being House would be pretty cool, actually.

Hmmm, I'll figure it out soon...ish. I almost wish I'd done some work experience. I'm going to get fucked over if they ask me "you've never done work experience, how do you know what a doctor does, and how do you know that this is what you want to do?" I mean sure I can come up with a standard response...

Argh, it's just inconvenient.

Not that I should worry my easily-distracted brain over it. I mean, whatever goes, goes. Worst case scenario, I fail to get into med school, and I have a very angry father who will inevitably get on my nerves. Then I'll  move out of this house because fuck this place, and I will probably never talk to Dad ever again, so his rage wouldn't even matter.

Ah, strategic planning of the future has always been a great strength of mine. I should write that down.

I Need Ice Heal

I'm fucking freezing. And here I thought it was mid-spring, but noooo, my teeth are chattering. Stupid overcast weather and stupid lack of sunlight. Not that I like sunlight that much (because it burns), but I hate feeling cold. The heater is on, I'm in my winter garb, but still I feel cold. It was raining last night, when I drove myself to badminton. So after all that rain you'd think I'd see a bit of sunshine this morning. Nooo, it's freezing. And overcast. Like it hadn't rained at all, but it's about to some time in the near future.

Might as well be a blizzard.

And of course I'm dreading it all, because I have to leave the house at around 12.30. The sky doesn't look like it'll clear for me by the time comes. I barely realise that today is Friday... which means I should probably start and finish my shitload of work. I wonder what I've achieved over the holidays... learning combos in a game I will probably play significantly less, adding pages to my art book, added another 20 songs to my music collection and I read The Blinding Knife. Huh, not bad. Oh, not to mention how I blogged almost everyday, whining about my unrequited "love".

It must have been a nice holiday- it seems that I was able to do a bit of everything which I enjoyed. Too bad my parents were home faaar too often for my liking. Every weekend I see as a wasted weekend, due to their presence. Then, to my great misfortune, we had 2 long weekends in a row, where my parents were both home on Mondays. And on Tuesday I had to babysit. If I can count, that means I have Wednesday, Thursday and Friday free, to myself. Double that for 2 weeks--- I've had a 6 day holiday, whereas everyone else had 16 (2 weeks plus initial weekend). Man I feel ripped off. It's like... my family literally stole more than 1/2 of my holidays from me.

...Yet Mum still bitches about how I don't do enough of her homework for her. I don't do my own work, for fuck's sake.

I'm not sure whether I'm happy about my holidays ending... because then I'd see my parents less, or whether I should lament my loss of slacking time, because if I go back to school I'll have work to do. Eh, what I think of it is trivial. School starts in a couple of days, after all.

Last stretch of college, last 6 weeks til hell is over. Here goes.

I'm hangin' on, bitches.

Consequences of Gaming

So the game I play right now is one of those nice beat-'em-ups, and today I forced myself to take a break from playing because I noticed my fingers twitching erratically after 2 hours. Not a good sign. I started a new character on my account, and I was practising combo chains--- given my ancient keyboard (which probably deserves to be displayed in a museum as opposed to being used as a gaming keyboard), it was hard work. I finally figured that if I hold a key, the game will register it as pressing the key down twice or 3 times, but that depends on timing etc.

The sequence I've been trying to learn is one of those "basic" character combos "zzz>>^z". which means press z 3 times, press left or right arrow key twice then up arrow key once then press z. Seems easy enough--- except timing is required. With my shitty keyboard, instead of registering as "zzz>>^z", it registers as "zzzz" which breaks my combo, or it registers as "zzz" *break* ">>^z".

Now I figure no one will actually understand what I'm talking about, and that's okay, but I just want you to know that you all suck.

Anyway, I'm training my fingers to adapt to the new character combo, and sooner or later, if I succeed enough times, it'll become muscle memory, so I won't have to try the next time I want to execute that combo. Then I think to myself, man, the time it takes for me to convert that combo to muscle memory... if I had the same dedication for a sport... or if I just picked up a random stick from the backyard and slashed it until it became muscle memory... I'd be fit, wouldn't I?

Now I'm wondering, if I had dedicated all my gaming time to training my physical body, would I be able to run 100m without puffing like a fatty...

And maybe I'd be able to slash a sword as fast as my in game character

Games, Reading, Games

I'm trapped in a repetitious cycle of gaming and reading. Oh, and sleep, I guess. Yes, food as well, every now and then, unless I forget or my parents get too angry. But mostly gaming and reading. Every day when I wake up, the first thing I do is jump on the computer and play games for a solid hour. In less than 3 days the character I newly created jumped to level 3X. That may seem like nothing, except if I bother counting hours it means I almost played non-stop. Feels good, man.

I've got a lot of reading to do. I said I'd catch up on holiday reading--- but I didn't. I have The Wise Man's Fear, which is a sequel to a fantasy novel I really liked, I have Inheritance which is the last book to Eragon, then I have the 2nd in line for the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy (forgot it's name) aaaand I have The Blinding Knife, which is the only one I've actually read out of all of those.  

The Blinding Knife is written by Brent Weeks, and I think he's probably the best fantasy writer of our generation. Never have I read anything so... exciting. He wrote the Night Angel Trilogy, which I repeatedly say is the best thing I've ever read. Then his next series, the Lightbringer series, is just as good, if not better than the Night Angel Trilogy. I was so engrossed I actually stayed up late reading. I haven't done that for years.

This book, is something that you should go borrow/buy/lawfully obtain by some other means (or maybe unlawfully obtaining it is fine too). THEN READ IT.

Alright, I guess you could say nothing will ever outmatch The Lord of the Rings, except that stuff was difficult to read. It was written superbly, but The Lord of the Rings simply didn't have the... humor which Brent Weeks adds to his works. Reading the story is like living the story (no exaggeration, I promise), and it was an epic story to live through.

Now stop reading my rant about how great Brent Weeks's work is, and go find yourself a copy. Go, now. Shoo.

Me; Mr Collins

For those of you who had never read Pride and Prejudice (you should, shame on you), Mr Collins is a character who proposes to the protagonist, Lizzy Bennet. He was snobbish and servile at the same time... and overall a rather ridiculous person. He wanted to marry Lizzy because he wanted to marry, not because he wanted her. When he had proposed, he was refused rather curtly, but he would not believe it himself, and continued to suggest that refusal was a way for ladies to display modesty. Later he finally gets the hint that he was actually being refused, so instead he marries Lizzy's best friend, Charlotte.

After a few words  with a couple of my friends... I wonder if I'm not like Mr Collins myself. A friend had remarked that Asian men had the tendency to be chauvinistic, and that they will date a girl simply because she is hot, and not because of anything else. Then I think back to what I said to my brother, when he asked me what I found attractive in the person I liked. I had responded with "perfection". Except nowhere in "perfection" did I include anything about personality, unless you count "a vague sense of humor". Maybe like the "chauvinistic Asian men" my friend had condemned, I just wanted to walk with a trophy on my arm and show off.

Given my personality, that is certainly plausible.

On the 1-10 douche-o-meter, I score... "error, upper limit exceeded"

A couple of minutes ago, I was thinking to myself: huh, wouldn't it be awkward to see that person again, face to face, now that I've been shut down so badly. Then I shrugged it off, thinking that I will continue my pursuits despite their rejection. Like, first time's the worst, right? Maybe after the nth time they'll agree. I cannot deny that the fact that they had rejected me made them seem all the more attractive. After all, what you can't have is the best.

I can easily delude myself into thinking that their refusal was simply a mix of their bashful nature and careful modesty. Sure, I was a little overbearing--- but I'm fantastic! Why would they seriously reject me? It's obviously a ploy of them playing hard-to-get.

Now I'm disgusted with myself for thinking exactly like Mr. Collins did when Lizzy had, in all seriousness, turned him down. I should know better. I mean, I wish they were playing hard-to-get, but that's impossible. So maybe I'm not as stupid as him after all... though the striking similarity between him and I disturb me a little.

Nah, I'll accept the rejection that I see, because I'm not half-blind. Never giving up is one thing, but being a pain in the ass is another. Not that I've magically stopped liking that person after that episode, but it's probably time to back off (and I say that so many times, pretending that I actually will do what I say I will),

Though some part of me wishes that I were Mr. Collins. After all, my dear Charlotte would be ready to receive my attentions and inflate my ego. Heh, I'm kidding (but it would actually be so nice).

Brotherly Advice

I was talking to my brother two days ago--- he finally replied to my question: what do you do to get someone you like to like you back?

He didn't seem surprised, and gave more of a "oh, this kind of shit" reaction. He asked some pretty interesting questions, firstly, "how much competition do you have?"

That hit like an arrow to the knee. I regretfully admitted that I had tonnes of competition, some I can name, most I can't. "BUT IT'S OKAY," I assured him, "THEY'RE ALL LOSERS ANYWAY. IF I'M DOOMED FOR FAILURE, NO ONE ELSE CAN SUCCEED."

My brother, being the interesting person he is, continued with "how did you find yourself attracted to this person?"

"Well," I began, "I wasn't really. Until one day, I realised they were perfect. Like, literally, perfect."

Bro: "So what do you actually like about this person?"

"Idk man, but PERFECTION is pretty fucking attractive. They're good looking, they're clever, speaks more than one language, plays an instrument, is sporty, and they even have a vague sense of humor."

It's simply... perfection. Nothing more.

...Now that I'm writing this out for you guys, I kinda think... "hey... aren't I just... talking about myself?" Minus the sporty part, I guess. But I do play sport. ...So it's like, I'm one soccer ball away from perfection.

Then my oh-so-encouraging brother said: "I don't think you have a chance. The pressure that comes with dating "perfection" is too great. Just give up."

GOODBYE, CRUEL WORLD.

I'm guessing I replied with something along the lines of "fuck you" but I don't really remember what I said. I just remember feeling like I'd been burned all over again.

IT BURNSSSSSSS

Aaaand then my brother starts preaching: "you know, love is overrated. It's not like those romances you read, so I don't want you to get the wrong idea."

So I retort, "you say that, but you're going to get married in a couple of years and you're gonna change your mind."

"Next year"

"...What?"

"I'm getting married next year. Some time around January or February."

And it is through interactions such as these that I know he is truly my brother.

Then we start talking about his relationship, and he says in a nonchalant way that "it's time", because apparently our family is putting pressure on the eldest son (I had no idea, though I'm not surprised). He says though he's still young, and he wouldn't mind being single until he was in his thirties (or at least late twenties), his girlfriend can't wait. It sounds kinda cheesy, the way I say it, but I guess he really cares about his girlfriend. She waited for him in China for something like 5 years... and I'm actually so surprised that their long-distance relationship worked out. It is truly incredible.

After I had finished marveling at my brother's good luck at getting such a wonderful girlfriend, it suddenly hits me. He's gloating, isn't he? Bastard.

Though I guess if he didn't rub salt into my bleeding wound, he wouldn't be my brother.

It's not even 10am

Yeah I'm awake again. It's still morning... but this time at least I woke on my own accord. I don't even know where my time goes. I sort of just... sit here, and then bam it's night time, and I feel like sleeping again. The sunlight feels nice against my face... it's silently crept through my window, though it is not invasive.

You know what's invasive though? My mother. God fucking dammit. One nice morning I have, and she barges through my room: "HAVE YOU DONE MY HOMEWORK YET"

No, no I haven't.

"YOU SAID YOU'D DO IT YESTERDAY"

Ahhhh god fucking dammit. I haven't even done my own homework. Why should I prioritize your crap over mine. And your stupid fucking homework is the biggest piece of shit on this planet. Yet you wonder why I despise childcare. Arrrgh.

She keeps on whining on about how she has "no idea at all", as she chucks me an entirely blank booklet. Then when I fill in the answers she's like "should it be said this way?" WELL THEN YOU HAVE AN IDEA WHAT TO WRITE, SO WHY DON'T YOU FUCKING WRITE IT DOWN YOURSELF. Then she argues that her grammar and spelling won't be correct and she doesn't know how to put it into a sentence, but she could tell me the ideas and I could write down the whole thing for her. ...At which point I'm just like, "okay okay, I got this, go go go get out of my room". God knows what I really wanted to shout was "GET BACK TO PRIMARY SCHOOL".

Okay, that might be a bit mean. I don't know man. I can tell that she'd struggle with a lot of this homework, except I still can't get over the fact that I have to do someone else's homework in my personal holiday period. She keeps on telling me that once she gets this certificate she'd find a better job and she knows what to do sh just needs the qualification on paper... In the grand scheme of things, I should really be helping out. Except my brain isn't wired to think long term, at least not yet. At the moment all I can think about is my present happiness...

And happiness does not come with doing my mother's homework.

Morning

The fact that I'm up at 9.30am blogging is testament to how much I hate my parents being home. I'm on holidays, FFS. Why do they insist on functioning as an annoying alarm clock, waking me at all costs? The weather is overcast today- perfect for sleeping in until at least 12 noon. Then I could leave for a friend's house in the afternoon, and come home when it's late.

The very presence of my parents irritate me. I'm constantly suffering the dread of an argument--- no, they haven't done anything to me as of yet, but the anticipation is killing me. I know it's unavoidable. Sometimes I'd play along--- give in, even, to whatever they say. Then the next round they'll bring up yesterday's topic again, as if they'd forgotten that I'd already surrendered.

Sometimes I look at my parents like I don't even know them anymore. They'd be yelling, and I'd be sitting there lost, thinking, "who the fuck are these people, and why the fuck are they yelling at me?" I get so confused, but that seems to make it worse.

I miss how my parents were like 10 years ago. Mum was caring but not annoying, and Dad... wasn't an asshole. It's sad to admit that sometimes I'd rather be eight than eighteen.

What am I doing

 My brain feels like it's being fried. I woke up late today, and when I did my head spun like a broken record. I don't have much recollection of what I did after I woke up, but I know I've been searching for a job for the past 2 hours while the letters "FML" flashed like a beacon inside my head.I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing.

I had planned on getting a job a couple of weeks ago, but then Mum yelled like a bitch and told me to babysit at some shitty childcare centre. Fuck her bitch-face of a friend. OMFG. Why can't she befriend someone decent. But then again, they say people like finding friends similar to themselves. I never ended up going to that childcare centre- and Mum's friend brought her daughter over, presumably to show off the fact that she made $150 a day and how she didn't even have to do that much work.

You have no idea how tempted I was, to say, "well I'm sure if she wanted to whore herself she'd make $150 per hour as opposed to $150 per day". But I was too polite.

Gaaah, I don't want to be that mean. I don't actually... afkdjaslhfkjf, I don't actually... hate her daughter. She's a nice person. I mean, we are classmates after all. There' s not much about her which I don't like, and that's trivial anyway. Yet I cannot help but resent her because my mother and hers use her against me, making me seem like trash. My old job paid $14 an hour. Mum's making all these comments about me and my cheap labor, how I work my ass off for $14 an hour while my classmate makes $20 an hour by doing jack all.

Now I don't even want to find a job anymore. Sure, I need the money. Yeah, I wouldn't mind working. Yet when my parents force me to do it, I feel bad complying. Despite knowing their intentions... they way they do things...

So last night, Dad walks into my room, shoves me this medical encyclopedia, tells me to read it because it's interesting and I'll know what to do later on when I become a doctor. I was like wtf, gtfo I don't need this, and I don't want to read it. Then we argue like usual, because I tell him there's like a 1 in 10 chance I'll get into med school, why do I even bother, what if I don't even get in. When he left though, I ended up opening the encyclopedia (God knows why).  I read the introduction about being a doctor, why anyone would even want to be a doctor, how most doctors lose sight of their noble goals when they become interns. They're sleep-deprived, they work long hours, they get paid very little, aaaand half the time the patients are assholes. Some even reflect that if they had known, they would never have been a doctor in the first place. Then I understood Dad's intention; he probably wanted me to know what was going to happen if I got into med school. Having read that, I'm also better prepared for the upcoming med interviews. 

And I'd be grateful for him preparing this material for me, if he wasn't such an asshole about it when he gave it to me. Like, he could've just said what a normal person would've said: "hey, I found this medical encyclopedia for you, it has an introduction on what it's like being a doctor and what a doctor should be, I think it'd help you for your upcoming interviews and deciding whether you want to do med after all". I'd be like awwww how nice going to all that effort and thinking about me--- and an argument between him and I would not burst out spontaneously. Ah, it's not just him. I know it's me as well. It's gotten to the stage where everything my parents say is rubbish, regardless of what they're actually saying. I should keep chill, and actually evaluate the merit of their words. Look, most of the time it makes sense if I think about it, it's just the way they express things, that throws me off. I swear, my parents and someone I trusted could say the same thing, and I'd fight with my parents but nod in agreement with the person I trust.

I just forced down lunch which I did not want to eat. I now feel sick as hell. Yesterday, when I didn't eat lunch (because I didn't feel like it), my parents took turns lecturing me on being lazy, then commenting on how I wouldn't need the food anyway, because I was fat and lazy and wouldn't leave the house.

Arrrrgh. Why am I here.

Me; Economist

So you know how I complained that the world's greatest irony is you not liking the person who likes you, but the person who you like does not like you back? Yeah, that's not quite true. This whole "like" thing is quite lame, now that I've snapped out of it. Not that I've completely forgotten about it--- because alright, whatever, I'll admit to myself--- I got burnt preeeeeetty bad. 3rd degree burn? Bitch please, that burn level was over 9000.

But uh, leaving that aside until later--- I wanted to announce: I got a high distinction in an economics competition. And you're probably like, "so what, you're Asian, big whoop", buuuut, if you can remember back far enough... you'll recall me saying "fuck economics" almost every single blog post. Okay, that may be an exaggeration, but there was a time where... let's just say.. economics and I didn't get along too well.

So it allll started in high school, year 10, when I was to pick my classes for college. And being the naive stupid little shit I was (and because I hadn't actually completely lost it with Dad), I asked Dad, "hey, I have another class to fill in. What do you think I should study?" Now Dad, with his head up in the clouds and thinking about money every spare second of his life, says, "economics". So you see me rocking up to class, first day, and my teacher asks, "why do you want to study economics?"
And I said, "because Dad said that if I didn't study economics, I'll end up scrubbing toilets in the future".

Yeah I'd rather be studying economics as opposed to wiping shit-stains

The whole class burst into laughter, thinking that I was a very witty person indeed. Little did they know that I was just being honest- Dad actually said that. So my teacher's like, "well, I studied economics in uni and I must confess that I still have to clean my own toilet". Well then, it seems that economics doesn't save you from toilet scrubbing.

My first session in college economics was not a pleasant one: my teacher was quite excellent- clear, concise, thorough, patient and kind. The problem was me. I had no will to learn. I didn't care about resource allocation. From what I saw, as long as I didn't personally get screwed over, I don't actually care. The whole thing was... boring as fuck. While I wrote my essay for my final exam I wondered: did I actually learn anything regarding how to make money?

So I returned for a second session, this time learning about taxation, quotas, demand and supply--- you know, micro-economics, concerned with specific markets. For some reason I found that interesting, though a friend of mine complained about it being common sense. "People stop buying things when the price is too high? Well no shit Sherlock." Perhaps it was because it was "common" sense that I could actually follow. I was the sort to never pay attention to current affairs--- actually, why do I bother using past tense. I am the sort to never pay attention to current affairs. Everything I learnt in micro just.. clicked. So my second session in economics was a nice one--- I liked it more, though it was still a subject I couldn't care less about (I never studied or anything). Being the Asian I am, I casually walked away with a 90 on my report card.

How typical.

Third session economics went back to complete shit again. It was the last session in the year, and I have the same teacher as before. She was wonderful, yes, but the topic was just... miserable. Macro-economics. Y = C+I+G + X-M, whatever the fuck that means. Nah, I'm kidding, I still remember what it means, but it's pretty much the only thing I remember. I was bored out of my mind, I needed a holiday--- economics was just a class I didn't want to go to.

The only reason I continued economics first session this year was because of IB. I had hated economics so much, but I couldn't drop it because IB requires me to study an "arts" subject. Economics was the filler. Except this was the worst session ever, because I got a new teacher. See, even though I hated economics before, at least I had a good teacher. This new teacher I got... man, let's just say he tried too hard to be funny, and he didn't teach a lot. Not that he couldn't--- because at least when he teaches, he teaches well--- he just doesn't. My dislike for the subject combined with my growing dislike for the teacher made economics a pain in the ass. Aaaaand that session, I got the first D in my life. Yar, D.

A= Average
B= Bad
C= Crap
D = Dead

I'm just a skeleton sitting in front of the computer. Don't mind me.

Wat, watchu lookin' at bitch? 

So I dropped IB, and I dropped economics along with it. But I entered the economics competition for shits and giggles. I'm the sort of person to do those kind of things. It was a strange competition: multiple choice, +1 point for correct answer, -0.5 (or was it 0.25) for incorrect answer. Since I had just walked away from a session of probability, I figured that my gain would cover my loss if I just guessed the whole paper--- and I wasn't going to guess the whole paper, because I wasn't retarded. Then, unlike most people who were daunted by the fact that there were mark deductions, I guessed everything I couldn't answer (and there were a loooot). The stuff on there was like: "what's the current rate of inflation"--- and since I don't watch the news, I could only shrug. When I had finished, I thought to myself: wouldn't it be great, if I got a high distinction (HD), and then it was read out at a school assembly. Man, what I'd give to see my economic's teacher's face, when he realizes his failure of a student just beat all the try-hards.

...And I actually won it. I was surprised, but yeah I was more excited about the fact that I can shove it in my teacher's face. As for winning the actual HD... I don't care that much. It's another certificate to add to my pile of awards (though sadly this is like the second HD I've got for any competition). Never mind that.

Now for once in my life, I'm looking forward to a school assembly. I can't fucking wait.

...Though I still don't want to study economics in uni. That sounds miserable.

Not a bad day

Being the popular, brilliant, accomplished, clever, witty and generally pleasant person I am, I've decided to be happier. I woke up and started my day with one hour of solid gaming, then I wasted two hours messing with the template of a new blog of mine. I had a cup of instant coffee somewhere in that time frame. Then I swept the house clean of dust and did the laundry. I could not say I minded the chores. It seems that everything is a valid distraction when the alternative is sinking into unpleasant memories about getting rejected.

I must commend myself on recovering far quicker than I expected. I mean, I had anticipated that I'd need at least an entire week to whine about this, and it seems I only took one day (and 4 blog posts) to calm myself down. I must admit: friends are wonderful things.

----------------Last Night-----------------------

Me: I got rejected ):

Friend: Maybe they were actually busy.

Me: Busy is a bad excuse when you're on holiday

Friend: Uh...maybe they just don't like going outside?

Me: But they're a sports person... I don't think sporty people are the sort to hate going outside...

Friend: ...Indoor sports?

------------------------------------------------------

Heh, I'd keep on deluding myself if I could, but there's no point. I am far too proud to be like that. Like the voice inside my head keeps on saying, I should just get over it. There's not much to get over anyway. Nothing's changed. All they said was "no", it's not like I lost an arm or a leg. If I think about it... it's like...

"Huh. Nothing in my life has actually changed. I have no excuse to suddenly be any less happy than I was before."

So uh... I guess it's time to go back to... being me. Being me, and being free~

The things I do for my maths teacher

I don't want to stop writing. I know I've written a shitload for one day (and I haven't done any substantial work), but my mood is too foul for anything else. I think I mentioned telling you about the things I did (and still do) for my maths teacher. Here goes.

So, starting with a little bit about my maths teacher. He is legitimately my most favorite person in the world (no matter how many times I say that, I cannot say it enough). His very presence is like an instant dose of happiness. I can't even properly explain how. He is just... magical. My friends and I often joke about him being a wizard, because when he teaches maths he just uses this hax method nobody has ever heard of and solves the problem. Nobody will have any idea what just happened, so he explains, but even after I understand the process it stills seems like wizardry.

He is also the biggest troll ever.

When a wizard recommend that you do something, you do not simply ignore it. Except his recommendations are kinda... quirky. Not bad, it's just the sort of thing you'd say if you were off with the fairies. But he is a wizard, so I guess it makes sense. His most memorable recommendations, which I followed:

1. Get up at 4-5am to do maths. Sleep early, at like 9pm, then do a solid 3-4 hours of maths, and afterwards you'll realise that "the day is still young".
2. Go out in the sun and plaaaaaay~! Enjoy the sunshine~!
3. *It's raining outside* Go out onto the oval for a walk~! So I remind him that it's raining, and he offers me the umbrella in the maths staff room.
4. Go take a walk up a mountain! (I did that: Mountain Climbing Without Hammy)
5. Go dine in a cafe in some bogan town~! (Okay, he didn't actually say "bogan town", but that's what it was. The cafe wasn't bad though. Glad I went)
6. Go easy on yourself~! Relax~!

...There must've been more, but I can't quite recall. He is soooo indulgent. Relax? In college? But I did take his advice, and I'm a happier person because of it. Being tense just makes my unstable temper shift towards the shitty side. He told me to give up on IB (this diploma thing I was studying for), because he saw that it made me unhappy. When the entire world was pushing me to finish, because I've "come so far" and "done so much", he was the only one who saw behind all that, and saw me. And I was undoubtedly miserable. No one else, not even my parents, could do the same (but of course my parents couldn't do the same, they don't know shit about me).

And every moment of happiness in my college life thereafter, I know I owe it to him (this is the cheesiest thing ever).

No, don't look at me. Nyaaaaa.

Therefore it is quite natural that I follow through with his words, no matter how... insane or absolutely fanatical they seem at the time. And honestly, I don't think I've ever regretted it, once.

Now I'm smiling. Happiness comes with happy thoughts, it seems.

Dear World, I'm Agitated

Life actually sucks right now. I'm not at school, so I miss seeing my maths teacher (who always manages to make me happy). Not only am I not at school, I'm stuck home babysitting my sister. She's a tad annoying. Then my parents are home with me. Greeeat.

I have nothing to do. I've drawn so much my hand hurts. I can't sit still enough to read. I've turned off all my music because the songs irritate me. There is no one to play games with me, because my best friend is too busy getting fat in America.  Dear world, I'm agitated.

It's the rejection, isn't it? It's actually getting to me. Not that I've never been rejected in my life (I remember failing a flute audition years back and crying about it for a good 2 hours), except that doesn't make it better. God fucking dammit. WHY. GRAAAWR. I feel like a dragon.

Look, normally it'd be alright. I'd go out and forget myself. Except EVERYONE is off at some movie right now, which I can't go to because I had to babysit. DAMMIT. I really needed a social event to distract myself with. After all, I'm dying to go out. Hmm, "go out". I hate that phrase. "I'm dying to leave this house". There, much better.

"OMFG WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU" The voice in my head screams. "GET OVER IT ALREADY. If you don't want other people's sympathy, you can have mine. Let me tell you what you want to hear, because I know what you want to hear. You're popular, brilliant, accomplished, clever, witty and generally pleasant to be around. Hell, you're not even bad looking. No, I'm not flattering you, because you know it's true. They don't like you back, no, but that's their loss. Why don't you count the number of people who wouldn't actually reject you if you asked? Why did you have to go for the one who you knew, before you started, was going to shut you down completely?"

...Well, because I do not find the people who like me particularly attractive, but I am engrossed by that particular person.

"See, ***** was right all along. You are a masochist."

Shut up, voice.

"If you're that desperate, ask *** out. You wouldn't get rejected, and you know that. It's like, instant ego boost. Then you can end the relationship in a couple of days, after you feel better about yourself."

Moralistically, I don't think it's right to toy with their feelings like this.

"Don't pretend that you have any morals."

I do. Shut up.

And thus I get caught in a pointless argument with myself--- pointless because, well, it's with myself. In the end I convince no one.

I need cheering up. Someone, something, anything. If you don't know me in real life, leave a comment, tell me how to make myself happy. If you do know me in real life... let's go out tomorrow. Yes, I said go out. IT'S OKAY, I'M FINE. I just need a change of environment. Call me, text me, message me, whatever. Let's  go some place... I'd like to have some ice cream.

I Hate Being Rejected

Most of the time it is misery which fuels me to blog--- so it's like the less I update, the more happy I am. If one day I stop blogging completely, the world can rest knowing that I've found my "happily ever after".

Or maybe I'll just be permanently drunk with a bunch of hookers.

So I got rejected, right. After waiting for like 3 days (it wasn't worth it) I got rejected. Sure I've been saying "being rejected is better than being ignored", but eh, not really. Like my friend kindly reminded me: they're the same thing. It was bad because I had asked them to go some place with me, and then I got some reply saying something along the lines of "I'm busy, I don't want to go out, sorry but no." I looked at it semi-confused, because the voice in my head was laughing and saying "WHOOOA LOOK AT YOU, YOU JUST GOT BURRRRNT". Shut up, voice in my head. I did not get burnt. Then I read the message over again, but then the voice in my head interrupts: "I don't want to go out, sorry but no~ SEE WHAT THEY DID THERE? They just referred to two things with that going out. MAN, that's like, two birds with one stone! Rather, two rejections with one phrase!"

Omfg, is there a way to injure the voice in your head? This voice is a part of me, isn't it? WHY THE FUCK AM I TAUNTING MYSELF.

I shake my head to clear it, and type some ambiguous response like "call me if you change your mind". The voice in my head interrupts again, "dude, they don't even have your number. Are you hoping that they'd ask for it?" Shut up voice. Shut the fuck up. I know my motives behind my words.

I would not be surprised if I got diagnosed with personality disorder a few years down the track.

You know how this world is full of ironies? The person I do like shuts me down, the person I don't like doesn't know when to give up. I've received a million messages regarding how my holiday (it's been ONE day) has been, whether I'm playing games, am I doing maths, do I have any plans, do I want to go paint-balling this Friday. FUCK. NO, NO, NO I DON'T. GTFO. I mean, even I don't harass the person I like to this extent. Maybe every innocent greeting just seems extra annoying due to the frequency of their occurrence.

So I stare at my screen, cringing over the cruel joke the world is playing on me, whilst thinking, "hmmm, how do I completely and utterly shut someone down". The voice in my head sneers, "well isn't THIS familiar!" Yeah, yeah it is. And I grinned with the exquisite pleasure which is only derived from cruelty, while I typed, "I'm busy, I don't want to go out. Sorry but no".

C WUT I DID THAR?

That wasn't very nice, I know. They do like me, after all. Well, from the way I see it, liking me obviously comes with a price, and that price consists of me dumping my pain onto them. Now I feel infinitely better, knowing that someone else is probably staring at their screen, thinking "ouch I got burnt". No, don't condemn me. It is not my fault that they like me.

...And neither is it that particular person's fault for not liking me back. *Sigh* I can acknowledge that, on a very rational level, though I suppose it is impossible to feel no resentment towards a rejection. If I didn't then it would show how I really couldn't care less. I cannot say exactly how much I "care", but I know it is more than I feel comfortable with.

Hmm. I actually DO hate being rejected.