Anne

Ah... My homework for "N.I.E"... What does "Newspaper in Education" have to do with us designing book covers?

I see that my handwriting is crooked. Again. Peh. This is what happens when there are no lines to guide my writing. At least it looks more respectable than my writing as a ten year old. I can barely read my own handwriting from 4 years ago, just like how I can barely read bro's current handwriting.  I wonder if bad handwriting runs in the family? And you can forget about reading the top of the paper, as it contains my name, roll number and class. 2 Ai. Can be translated to 2 Love. Also can be interpreted as 2 Valentine or 2 Heart. The "Ai" is not to be confused with "A.I.", which stands for artificial intelligence.

I find it difficult to draw the background. And since I can't find my own copy of the book, I used a picture I found on Google Images.

http://byrdmiddle.org/books/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/6a00c22521fa5e8fdb00fae8bb4b80000b-500pi.jpg

Obviously, about the only thing that I successfully copied from the background was the outline of the house. The rest, no.

I'm gonna get my sleep now, so bye.

I Love Competitions And Events. Not.

Ah... I seem to be extremely pessimistic for the past 1 week or so, to the extent of rapid firing posts like noone's business.

So, the results for the first season of the My Pride, My Class's Honour competition came out on Monday. The principal announced it in his usual annoying way. By usual annoying way, I mean his usual way of delivering a speech. First he'll speak a few lines, then a 5 second pause. Rinse and repeat. No wonder that our recess was normally short of 5, 10 minutes or that we completely skip the 4th period on Monday.

Anyways, we finished right in the middle: 9th out of the total of 18 classes. Our dear form teacher wasn't too pleased, after all, it was considered a big shame for the 4th class to place 9th in the competition. On the plus side, we weren't among the classes which have less than 60 points. On the down side, I ended up being the trump card for the English essay writing competition. On the plus side again, I get to skip Kuk Fa's algebra lesson when I'm sitting down writing like a maniac in maniacal looking handwriting during the competition! On the down side again, that means I'll miss Momo's physics lesson. Rats. That'll mean I'll be short on a grand total of 2 lessons. Again, that'll mean all the talk about reflections and mirrors and so on will make even less sense then they do already.

Then there's the annual brutal advertising campaign by the drama club. This time they're trying to persuade us to join this camp during the school holidays. The name translates to "Demon Circus", or "Ghost Circus", or even "Demonic Circus", it all depends on how you translate the Chinese word "gui". Their advertising is quite brutal compared to the other clubs and societies, mainly because they have the manpower to do so, and second, they are part of the drama club after all, so they aren't afraid to "throw face".

Teachers' Day and Sports Day are coming up, though Teachers' Day is coming earlier than Sports Day. I'm not even sure which design our class is using for the class shirt. Which reminds me... I'm fed up with seeing hearts everywhere. If it wasn't for the fact that I knew that the classes are all named after some virtue or good quality, I would have wondered why didn't we call this class 2 Valentine, or 2 Heart instead of 2 Ai.

Time to raid the fridge. Bye for now.

I'm Not Going To Take This Lying Down

A few things I learned in school: half of the junior boys seem to have the mental capacity of 5 year olds and that most of them can make oddly high-pitched sounds/screams/mock screams. They also have a huge vocabulary when it comes to insulting/bullying/cursing people. And you can totally forget about them being absolute gentlemen as half their bullying targets are girls.

Take the 2 Stooges for example. I'm fed up with them cursing me as "si wai yeh", which translates to something like "dead disgusting thing" if you were to do a literal translation. Hello people, I'm perfectly alive and I still need to eat, drink, breathe and answer nature's call. I am not, repeat, NOT, dead, so you can keep your stupid big mouths shut. And if people could actually control how they look, we won't need plastic surgeons. Don't have double eyelids? Just visualize yourself with them and poof, you've got double eyelids. Nose somehow got bashed into your head? No problem, just think of how you looked like when you still have it and there you go, your nose is back. Yeah right, if life was actually that simple.

The 2 Stooges also scream like a bunch of ninnies if I'm so much as 10 metres away from them. Keep screaming like that and you'd probably end up with a hoarse raspy voice. It's a wonder that their vices haven't turned into something like that yet. If it weren't for the fact that I'm not in the photography club and therefore cannot use the I-need-my-camera/videocam-for-club-activities excuse, I'd probably wouldn't be able to resist the urge to post a video of them running around screaming as if a pack of hyenas are going to eat them whenever I'm so much as 10 metres away from them. I am not infected with some disease that will make you drop dead the moment you're within 5 metres away from me, so there's no need to run away screaming like that. If I'm really infected with such a disease, everyone sitting around me in class would have been dead already.

There's a reason why the person in charge of taking whatever things we need for P.E. takes 2 bags of volleyballs marked with different numbers. The girls take the ones marked with "3" and the boys take the ones marked "1". Don't say that there isn't enough volleyballs and come snatching the ones we're using. There's 34 girls and 22 boys in class, so obviously we should be the ones complaining of a lack of volleyballs.

Don't shout and scream right into peoples ears, you'd probably make them suffer from a heart attack sooner or later. All that shouting won't do any wonders for their hearing too, so next time don't blame someone else when they won't respond to you, there's always the chance that they can't hear you or can't be bothered to answer you as they don't want to turn around only ti have a 100 decibel "BOO!" shouted down their ear.

You can change in the classroom in the presence of other girls but the moment I enter you'd say "yerh, si wai yeh came in, I don't want to change my pants here." Fine, dummies, if you don't like me to come in when you two are dressing, go to the toilets to change! There's no way I can enter the boys' toilets at all, so if you don't like me to come in when you're dressing, go to the toilets. You can change your P.E. shorts in there and whatever else you need to change. You can even do the waltz with your buddy in there and I won't give a damn about it.

So, 2 Stooges, if you somehow stumbled on my blog and can actually comprehend what I typed, congrats to you.

Steps To Have You Made An Outcast From The Art/Handicrafts Society

Step 1: You paint rather badly. By badly, I mean you can't get shading right, and often enough leave uneven patches on your handiwork.

Step 2: You have no idea how to do graffiti writing. Come on lah, I'm not your typical "artistic" girl who can do graffiti writing and other sorts of font, so don't blame me when you ask me to do graffiti writing and it came up looking like a ghost just grabbed a brush to and scribble. ("gui hua fu", you get it?)

Step 3: Often enough, you can't go out to buy materials, so you have to improvise by working with whatever junk you accumulated over the years that doesn't look too bad.

Step 4: You have what others consider a weird/lack of/twisted/maybe slightly warped sense of creativity/way of expressing yourself. Then again, I hate fancy decos, and I don't have the patience to sit down and work till the cows finally got shepherded home, so I don't stick erasers in the shape of cakes (CAKE! WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME I SAVOURED YOU?!?!) or twist glittery string round. And round. And round till I get fed up and cut the string to bits.

The poor bear clock was born due to the above steps. Bro said he looked creepy, thanks to those beads I stuck on to serve as pupils, and he refused to let me take those beads off. Might post his picture up if I can find my card reader.

Come to think of it, poor bear also looked quite plain and simple compared to the other girls' bears. Ah, blame your poor decorator then, bear. Just don't go and stomp on me in my dreams or something like that.

I'm Alive, Just Drained

This was how I felt once Momo was done talking about mirrors and reflections in Physics for 40 minutes. Man, all those lines and "qiao dian" drove me nuts.

And how's my new profile pic? I know that not many people read my blog, but hey, if you can, leave a comment!