I was on a cab this morning, desperately trying to finish reading the lasts of my Duchess of Malfi notes. A wave of dizziness hit me, and I suddenly felt nauseous. I thought I'd be okay after keep my notes.
BUT. No, I still felt nauseous. And because the traffic was so bad, the cab kept jerking, and the urge to puke grew with each kilometre it travelled. Everytime it jerked, my gastric retched. Gosh, tell me about the horrors of puking. Finally I couldn't take it and had to ask the cabbie to pull over on the freaking expressway just so that I can breathe properly! Twice! It was SO embarassing.
If you're wondering, I managed to keep my breakfast.
On my way home from school, I was happily dozing off and nursing my carsickness-induced-headache on the bus, when suddenly the peace was interrupted by a racket of squeals and shrills and screams and shrieks. I thought there was a terorrist attack. Probably I should be thankful that the bus was only invaded by half the population of a certain secondary school. Oh my, I never knew a whole busload of them could be so powerful - they transformed the bus into some kind of battlefield, and I was caught in the midst of a crossfire of upper-secondary-girl gossips and attempted bimboism and lower-secondary-boy taunting and showing off. And as you guessed it, my iPod never had such a timely death.
For the first time, I'm glad for the existence of a certain group of youngsters fondly known as Ah Lians. Because two bustops of war situation later, one of them turned around and shouted, "Oei! Grow up la, can! This one public bus hor! You think your father's lorry meh!"
Overlooking the irony and uncouthness of it all, I was very much grateful. Because all of them immediately looked up, and there was immediate silence. My respects to her prowess.
Other than that, my Lit paper today was good, alot better than the first one. It seemed that I had more time to attempt both Duchess of Malfi and the unseen poem, in comparison to Brave New World and the unseen prose. I think I have a steady pass in my pocket!
Oh yes, the poem was devastatingly sad! Half the time I was just feeling the sadness of the poem.
Mid-term Break
I sat all morning in the college sick bay
Counting bells knelling classes to a close.
At ten o'clock our neighbours drove me home.
In the porch I met my father crying -
He had always taken funerals in his stride -
And Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow.
The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram
When I came in, and I was embarrassed
By old men standing up to shake my hand
And tell me they were 'sorry for my trouble'
Whispers informed strangers that I was the eldest,
Away at school, as my mother held my hand
In hers and coughed out angry tearless sighs.
At ten o'clock the ambulance arrived
With the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses.
Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops
And candles soothed the bedside I saw him
For the first time in six weeks. Paler now,
Wearing a poppy bruise on his left temple.
He lay in a four foot box, as in his cot.
No gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear.
A four foot box, a foot for every year.
ONE MORE PAPER LEFT! There's Geography in about 6hours time and then, and then, and then, it'd be FREEDOM! Okay, I'd better get back to mugging, even though chances of passing are like, that of looking out of the window to see snowflakes drifting tomorrow morning.
Yes, in other words, I need a miralce. But then again, I think I've had too many miracles in my life to ask for another one.
HOW?!
Oh well, let's just believe I've done really well for everything else. =)
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