For All The Wrong Reasons
Disclaimer: before you read this entry please do take note that this blogger is currently in a very unstable state of mind and hence has the propensity to blurt out things that she might not necessarily mean. So please filter out the bad stuff and read only the good stuff like CLASS 95 or GOLD 90 FM whatever shit radio station that funny advert belongs to
Okay. Yours truly is currently freaking out.
So apparently, the @@!$#@$#@%#@ (I just can't bring myself to say the dreaded noun for this terrible terrible torture) are releasing soon, probably in the next two weeks, I've heard. And when I hear about it or receive those stupid career talk emails from a certain VJ math lecturer I imagine all those smart geeks pushing up their glasses and going "Hmmm I think I qualify for this" while I just happily dump it in the junk mail folder. (okay I don't, I just typed that for a more stark juxtaposition) But WHAT THE HELL MAN I don't qualify for ANY of that shit because my Preliminary Examination results are Damn Excellent (quadruple) DEEEE oh my lovely Prelim results.
And hence, I have this resultophobia thing that keeps breathing down the back of my neck and ironically crawling up my spine at the same time its like they meet at my shoulder blades and BOOM THEY EXPLODE INTO FIREWORKS OF MAYHEM WITH NICE LITTLE FIERY PATTERNS THAT SPELL "I AM GOING TO KILL MYSELF BEFORE 6TH MARCH" (estimated date of arrival of the Piece of Paper all 19-year-olds across the nation are depending on for the next chapter of their lives) and damnit I really want my life to end here and now cos I am happy now and maybe I just wanna work as a part-timer for the rest of my life earning 64 a day just enough for my meals. And then I'll find a rich spouse and leech on them for lyfe, baby.
Yeah I know I'm ranting but so what. How many people out there are actually like me now. My life is tragic. It's like a soap opera. Like Days of Our Lives. All my relatives are like smart people with degrees and PhDs and are all doctors or accountants or like fricking successful people while I'm this little kid who loves Strawberry Shortcake and looks like I skip along meadows carrying a basket of mushrooms I just collected. Or like some good-for-nothing who smokes and takes drugs and gets wasted every night at clubs and pubs and whatever.
I SHOULD REALLY JUST GO BE A POSTMAN/GIRL and just deliver snail mail to people everyday and I know I'm warped and a bit outta control like now but that actually sounds like fun. WOW I'M ACTUALLY INTERESTED IN SOMETHING BESIDES EATING AND SLACKING. It's too bad I already cancelled out all the potential occupations I have expressed interest in. Like teaching and psychology and like the service sector. And ALL BECAUSE of one of the traits I possess ie I am the person with like the least patience in the world and flaring up at people is probably one of my favourite pastimes, damnit.
Alrighty I'm done ranting and I guess I feel better. Now the world knows a lot more about me. I feel so.. transparent. Night kiddos, cheers!
Okay. Yours truly is currently freaking out.
So apparently, the @@!$#@$#@%#@ (I just can't bring myself to say the dreaded noun for this terrible terrible torture) are releasing soon, probably in the next two weeks, I've heard. And when I hear about it or receive those stupid career talk emails from a certain VJ math lecturer I imagine all those smart geeks pushing up their glasses and going "Hmmm I think I qualify for this" while I just happily dump it in the junk mail folder. (okay I don't, I just typed that for a more stark juxtaposition) But WHAT THE HELL MAN I don't qualify for ANY of that shit because my Preliminary Examination results are Damn Excellent (quadruple) DEEEE oh my lovely Prelim results.
And hence, I have this resultophobia thing that keeps breathing down the back of my neck and ironically crawling up my spine at the same time its like they meet at my shoulder blades and BOOM THEY EXPLODE INTO FIREWORKS OF MAYHEM WITH NICE LITTLE FIERY PATTERNS THAT SPELL "I AM GOING TO KILL MYSELF BEFORE 6TH MARCH" (estimated date of arrival of the Piece of Paper all 19-year-olds across the nation are depending on for the next chapter of their lives) and damnit I really want my life to end here and now cos I am happy now and maybe I just wanna work as a part-timer for the rest of my life earning 64 a day just enough for my meals. And then I'll find a rich spouse and leech on them for lyfe, baby.
Yeah I know I'm ranting but so what. How many people out there are actually like me now. My life is tragic. It's like a soap opera. Like Days of Our Lives. All my relatives are like smart people with degrees and PhDs and are all doctors or accountants or like fricking successful people while I'm this little kid who loves Strawberry Shortcake and looks like I skip along meadows carrying a basket of mushrooms I just collected. Or like some good-for-nothing who smokes and takes drugs and gets wasted every night at clubs and pubs and whatever.
I SHOULD REALLY JUST GO BE A POSTMAN/GIRL and just deliver snail mail to people everyday and I know I'm warped and a bit outta control like now but that actually sounds like fun. WOW I'M ACTUALLY INTERESTED IN SOMETHING BESIDES EATING AND SLACKING. It's too bad I already cancelled out all the potential occupations I have expressed interest in. Like teaching and psychology and like the service sector. And ALL BECAUSE of one of the traits I possess ie I am the person with like the least patience in the world and flaring up at people is probably one of my favourite pastimes, damnit.
Alrighty I'm done ranting and I guess I feel better. Now the world knows a lot more about me. I feel so.. transparent. Night kiddos, cheers!
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