Goons

Class is getting goon-er.

It's getting from bad to worse.

I'm typing this in class while I'm listening to duh questions.

Why why why am I stuck here.

The Cause of Insanity

I am so frustrated by my class. Someone didn't know that A+BXC is the same as BXC+A. Her friend tried to enlighten her by telling her she must put in the ( ).

My grin (evil) soon disappeared when I noticed I'm stuck in the same class as such people.

Argh.

Fear is so darn motivating.

I fear a life of boredom and mediocrity. People are driving me mad.

Cute little me

This is a blog post that will simply be an egoistic rant about myself. Why? 'Cos I want to and it's my blog. Duh!

Anyway, my mood is high and things are going fine in NYC. (high and fine rhymes eh? See told you I'm high.) The pace of life here in NYC is giving my life the buzz and excitement it sorely lacks. It helps that I get invited to enough events to feel excited and oh-so-popular (or at least, she's a decent person so let's invite her).

Okay, someone just told me I have a cutest little water bottle. It's a pink one with Snoopy on it. (I'm blogging in school now but I'll post a picture one day...) And someone in Zara told me I was wearing a cute skirt. (It's a black skirt with lace and pattern and frills from H & M.) And someone in class told me I was wearing a pretty dress. (Brown overpriced dress from Zara.)

The incidents happened on separate days, but it's enough to make me high (for a while, at least, until the next depressing thing occurs).

Qualifier: Oh, life in NYC is not all that perfect. Butt sweat is all too common on subway trains. You know the tracts of sweat and God-knows-what people leave behind on seats. Yikes. I've been sitting on remnants of butt sweat.

And yar, I keep having mystery water drip onto me. That cold slimy stuff that falls on you when you are walking on the pavement, in the subway... Please let it just be air conditioner condensation. I really don't want to know if it is anything else.

New York, New York?

I didn't have any expectations about New York. I have no NYC fantasy filled with beautiful people, designer clothes, cushy corporate jobs, overpriced food and endless alcohol.

Residing in New York is different from visiting. I have been here for a week and a half and I have settled into a routine which mainly involves school, subway and the food emporium.

I've acquired the fast walking, glazed eye look that is commonly spotted in NYC. My expressionless face is prepared to morph into a scowl whenever someone blocks my path. I see horrible things but I dare not or want to intervene. I continue walking. Faster, barely pausing to comprehend the scene.

I saw someone being kiap4 by a subway train. I feel indifferent watching him being kiap4-ed and un-kiap4-ed a few times. When the train door was finally done kiap4-ing him, I took the chance to dash out of my local train into the express train.

I see the vibrancy of the city. I could understand the inspiration it provides. (I did a paper on how geniuses have a tendency to gravitate to big cities.)

I feel like Holden Caulfield in The Catcher in the Rye. I'm only midway through the book but I identify with him. I feel like a nut.


* kiap4: Singlish, clamp