Exams!

What is it with teachers and homework. They always come hand in hand. For once, it would be nice to hear your teachers saying "Lets cut class, just for today!" Not like it would affect our grades. If your slower, theres always after school hours, where the teachers scheme more ways to make us dread school. Do they just dislike us that much?

Its not that i hate homework, sometime its fun, I have to admit. However, is it so necessary thatwe do them all the time. Children learn from watching 'Sesame Street' maybe watching some documentary in class would help better.

So other than homework, the education system somehow likes to demoralize us and class us through exams. They place you in different classes according to your academic grades, and i feel that that is overrated. Its just basically separating the smart ones and the slower ones. Maybe it wouldn't kill if we were put together.

Exams. Also another way of saying, "Study or extinct in 10 years". Its so demoralizing that if we fail, people assume that we are going to have to beg for food, while the people who gets straight As would be successful.

Education is demoralizing.

Apple

Just go anywhere, walk on the streets, look around. Everyone, and i mean everyone, is using apple products. be it a simple 'ipodshuffle" or an "iPhone4", more than half the people you're staring at have it. If you don't believe it, you can go check it out yourself. if you have never ever heard of an apple product, you must most definitely come from Pluto.

Whats the big deal about "iPads", "iTouchs" or "iPhones"? I used to own an "iTouch", letting it dangle out of my pocket for everyone to drool about. All my classmates labeled it "WOW" and I would stand at a corner laughing about it. I have something they don't and they are envious. However, things have changed. Even the janitor in my school owns one.

I was just sitting in the bus plugged into my music and when i looked to my left and right, the lady in green stilettos and Chanel perfume with diamond earrings was using the "office" application on her "iPad", while the cigarette -scented street gangster with detailed tattoos was air-drumming to a song blasting from his headphones, as you probably suspected, plugged into his "iPhone". Do you see the extremes?

Having an apple product is no longer deemed "cool" or extraordinary, but cliche, and typical. Sure, it may be convenient as they have great marketing managers with minds like the consumers, but is it really necessary for some of us? I doubt so. They have fun and really eye catching applications that apply to all ages, from the 4 year old child living next door to me, to the 87 year old janitor in my school, apple products are dominant and rampant everywhere.

I wont be surprised to see "iMats" and "iWalls" in the future.

Maybe Someday.

As a child, there was always this constant essay question, adored by all my teachers. They would give "My Ambition" as a title. Whenever i get that topic, i ponder hard. What was I going to write? The only occupations i knew as an eight year old, were, policeman, singer, doctor, lawyer, ad the common what's not. The difficult thing is, when i take a peep at my friends' essays, there are always the same old same old. Futhermore, how is anyone supposed to write a 150 word essay on their ambition? I decided to write "undertaker". I didnt know what it was, but i heard that word somewhere over the radio, in the car on my way to school.

Great. I checked with my teacher what an undertaker was, and realized, i have to go close to dead hard cold bodies.

I wrote it down anyways.

I scribbled a bunch of made up reasons why i would be and undertaker and how dead people will have nobody to make them look pretty and give them shockingly red lips when they die. My father told me i was really sadistic when i proudly told him my essay-writing episode. Of course i wasnt being sadistic. i still keep it somewhere in my drawer.

Why? I got the prize for "most creativity" .

Algebra

Sweat drips from you brow, your brain is boiling, you're losing grip of your pen, and next thing you know, POOF you're lying on the floor in spasms. Why? Your teacher has decided to give you an algebra pop quiz.

I may be exaggerating, but some teachers are cruel enough to do such an evil deed so as to give you a surprise pop quiz that counts in your semester result slip. Great. You're probably going to fail.

I feel that theres too much injustice done to me and my classmates. As if we are not loaded with an overdose of homework, you throw tests that come daily at us, and more often than not, pop quizzes.Where is the justice? Sure sure, its part and parcel of education and a journey of school, and everyone goes through that, and i should live with it. Thats just it?

I'm very sure our teachers are real-life monsters feeding us with injustice. They sit all day in a nice air-conditioned staff lounge drinking Starbucks and eating a triple choco chocolate cake, while we are locked in a room with no such privileges and slog away.

Algebra tests are horrid.

Train Ride

What do people do in train rides? Some take some time and snooze before getting on with their hectic life, some blast their headphones and nod vigorously to the beat, while ignoring annoyed stares. Then, theres the me-kind.

What do we do, we create a flash mob in the train. Getting random unsuspecting victims to dance with us, and getting looks that has the word "weird" written all over it. Some secret cameraman filming it all, and putting it on YouTube, next thing you know, we're the next big thing. Going for autographs sessions and all. The glamor, the fame, walking down red carpets with cameras flashing down our million dollar smiles and thousand dollar dress.

Then, the overstretched limo pulls up at your front door, and before you know it, a charming old man wearing a suit brings you your glass of iced water and licorice on a silver tray, dusting the gravel path for you to walk on.

Of course, its just all your imagination, as you stand in the train, bored from a tiring journey, but the whole time, secretly smiling to yourself. Then your phone rings, and its your friends screaming down the line that you have five minutes before the movie starts, and you're back to reality, and the boredom continues.

Empty refrigerator

Have you ever woke up from a nice nine hour nap, realizing that no one is home, and your stomach is grumbling so bad, the only thing you manage to do is well, nothing.

It feels... Terrible, sickening, horrid and every nerve in your body frozen in you. Today i woke up from my nine hour tour around dreamland, hoping that when i walk to the dining hall, the whiff of a ten-course meal would drown my nostrils with its heavenly goodness. I felt around for my glasses, threw my feet over the floor, caught my balance, and started my endless, treacherous journey to the dining hall.

Sitting on the cold hard wood, was a note. A note of mockery, of shame. A despicable peice of paper staring me in the eye.

It said: Honey, I wont be home until 11. Here's six dollars. Love, mom." Either my mother was trying to bribe me or its for my dinner. Bribe me. Definitely. Pulling my numb body into the ktchen, i opened the refrigerator, hoping to see an array of cold, microwavable food or something, but all there was were expired milk and soy sauce. Im very sure i couldn't eat soy sauce, and its most definite that I do not want to have a nice stay in a hotel filled with white linen sheets and a "nutitious diet" and some bald old man in a white coat, holding a clipboard giving me a new biology term every two hours.

Just as I was still dreaming, the doorbell rang. Hoping its a complimentary pizza, i flew to the door, anticipated the dancing pepperoni pizza to come right in my face to let me lick off. The cheese, to be savoured in every corner of my lips.

I jiggled the lock as fast as i could, and standing there with a toothless grin was my six year old cousin, waving a red plastic bag of noodles.

Better than nothing. (:

Mystery of the missing shorts

I walk around the little house, skipping across a spread of books, sweaty and sticky, wishful thinking of taking a nice hot shower at 12 midnight. Of course, my health advisor would not allow me to.I slammed open all the door of my cupboards and pulling out all my dressers, grabbing collared shirts, black shirts, dri-fits. Then, alas! The drawer labelled "shorts" is empty. Staring mockingly at me was the plain brown wood. I can feel it chiding me. My drawer probably ate it up. Slamming my drawer shut, i was determined to look for the missing shorts.

I switched into detective mode. A desperate detective at least. I will not be humiliated by a childish act by my drawer. Eating up my shorts may seem preposterous, but i did catch a guilty look from it. I rounded up my gang of trusty detectives. Mr.Notepad, Mrs.glasseyes and last but not least the thinking cap. We scoped and cleaned every corner of the house. The tv and radio refused to speak when questioned. Changing its channels constantly and torturing them still did not not lead us to any clues. I slammed my fist and decided that that was it. I will not let this conspiracy continue.

Then, the draconian came out and sreamed, " GET TO BED! ITS 12AM! YOUR SHORTS ARE IN THE WASH!"

This explains alot.




(I took this from personal blog, dated 15 July 2010)