I recall this convo I had a few days ago with H and this was what we discussed. Something along these lines, at least, since I lost our chat log.
H: Life is unfair. Deal with it
Me: Maybe yours, but not mine. I try as hard as I can to make it fair.
H: So is everything fair on your end?
Me: No
H: So see, it’s absolutely unfair! It’s even worse for you since you tried making it fair.
Me: There’s nothing “absolute” in life
H: Exactly, except for the fact that life’s unfair, no matter how hard you try to make it fair.
Me: Then you’re saying that life is absolutely unfair which is not possible when nothing is ever absolute in the first place. So life can’t be COMPLETELY unfair.
H: See, nothing is absolute, everything is grey. So life is unfair!
Me: Argh. This convo is unfair.
H: Proved my point. Quit being optimistic
Me: I’m a control freak. Not an optimist.
H: Hahahahaha
It all depends on how good you are at damage control.
Think I’d need professional damage busters to help me out once the results are out. I get this feeling that I’m gonna be a vegetable for a few days once the A’level results are out. My whole world, as I know it now will just… vapourize. It’s almost like a positive or negative AIDS test. Except that with A’s, it allows just a teeny weeny bit of hope. Which is a whole lot more torturous, if you ask me. At least with HIV, you know immediately after the release of test results whether or not you’re infected. Diseases like AIDS don’t discriminate but SMU, NUS and NTU does and they HEAVILY discriminate against anything below a B.
No point getting flustered now. Heck I got distracted by everything, from my nails to dust on the table to peeing 2343 times per hour just to get out of studying. So I won’t even bother going I shoulda, woulda, mighta, moutha fucka... like all you other sorry asses. Quit regretting.
I had fun taking a few minutes off work to rant about my purposeless and now ambitionless life. Sigh. Wait, I still want to write, very very much. Maybe now, something more Roald Dahl-ish instead of Financial Timish (this one exaggerate ah, I write one econs essay also take 4 hundred hours)
Writing for kids is an art form okay – it truly is. I respect Dahl and the work he has done. One problem, I dislike kids, in general and I wouldn’t want to spend any time with them, in any line of work, if possible. Heck if there’s a chance that I’m having my own kids to wear me down in future, I seriously don’t need other people’s little brats to deal with at work. Children are so slappable and smackable and I think all of them should be confined to Pulau Ubin, with all the other adults who adore children. They can jolly well go there and get molested by a million grubby fingers.
Okayy no one will ever marry me – this cold-hearted, money and old-man loving bitch with an incomplete A’level cert. Okayy lah, babies are tolerable enough. Squeezable and coo-able. Good enough compromise? My hostility towards children (in general) can be rather scary. No wonder nobody wants to be my friend. Not that i'm caring (actually i am but let's pretend i don't because it suits the tone of this entire entry better).
Anyways, would NTU consider direct admission… if I directly throw myself to the board of directors and tell them I’d donate a kidney for lab work? Not necessarily my own lah. SHEESH! Seeing how unfair life is, my right kidney would totally start failing the moment I give up my left one. Perhaps throwing in a revolving fan would close the deal? Hahahaha. I'll even make it pink for some colour.
Ok, excuse my super long and incoherent babble. I’m losing it. And I was under the impression that I’m a very focused and rational person. Now I think I’m just delusional. You learn something about yourself everyday!
AND TIME!
12 MINUTES OF BABBLING and rambling AT WORK. Congratulations.
No comments:
Post a Comment