This is the blog's two hundredth post. I just thought I should make a note.

Anyway, yesterday I overheard two staff talking at work, about someone in my workplace who apparently jumped, for some reason or other. A teacher mentioned, with a callousness that surprised me, that the boys here do not need a reason to jump.

Now forgive me for being idealistic, but that was out of line. I mean, wtf? I know some boys are assholes, and a pain in the bottom. Sometimes I feel like killing them myself. But asking rhetorically whether they need a reason to jump? That's fucked up. If teaching in a neighbourhood school makes you that jaded, I don't know if being a teacher is a good thing.

She went on to elaborate about her perfect son who is a scholar. Whatever. I am sure he is very intelligent, good for him. That has nothing to do with the point at hand. Fuck all that wannabe snobbery and elitism, and oh ya Mrs Teacher if you are reading this, fuck you too.

I am becoming increasingly disgruntled with my job. Its bad enough that all I get to do is babysit a bunch of hyperactive kids and some annoyingly tedious admin work. To top it all off, I was told in a not-so-subtle manner by my superior that reading newspapers in the lounge is fine, but might get me embroiled in office politics, so I should bring the papers to somewhere less conspicuous and read them there. My guess is that someone made a passing remark about how I get paid to do nothing.

Are they fucking retarded? I am a relief staff. How in the fucking world does it make any difference to anyone in the office whether I do anything or not and still get paid? I am not competing for promotions, idiots.

Keep me out of whatever politics you may have, because I won't even be staying long enough to make head or tails of it.

Living Alone II

Now that I have started living alone, I realized all the little stuff that I used to take for granted.

Top of the list would be laundry, food, and transport. Money as and when you need it is also somewhere near the top.

My relief teacher's wages are starting to look desperately inadequate nowadays. I have gone from wondering how I can save up 70 bucks for something I want, to wondering how I can cut down on anything not directly related to food, transport and accomodation.

I wonder if that's what growing up is.

Now that I am working as a relief teacher, I could empathise with my former teachers. It really isn't easy teaching a bunch of overactive, guai lan secondary school kids, who think that they know-it-all and whose sole mission in life is to disrupt your class and piss you the fuck off.

Anyway my job isn't so much to teach as to babysit a class, in the absence of their regular teachers. I gave up trying to teach when I inexplicably decided that the easiest way to make them understand the difference between series and parallel circuits was to explain Kirchchoff's laws to them.

It didn't really work out.

I got along well with the other classes because I bribed them promising to end the lessons slightly earlier, and also by giving them the answers. It would seem like the kids in my school aren't big fans of cerebration.

Am wondering if I could survive the next few months, before I fly to C________.

What I really would like to write :

Question : In a paragraph of 50 to 100 words, please share with us how you see yourself in 7 to 10 years’ time.

Answer : Barring any major technological changes. Probably in a mirror.

I know the posts have been coming in rather sluggishly these days, but is there seriously anything to blog about right now?

Whoops sorry for the lack of posts!

I have been incredibly busy ( read: sleeping, scholarships applications, New Year stuff, sleeping).

And yes, sleeping does come under the list-of-thing-more-important-than-blogging right now. Considering the fact that I will be starting work next week, and henceforth living the life of a student with benefits ( being a relief teacher and consequentially having none of a teacher's benefits), i.e. waking up early, doing work, more work, waking up early, I think it is perfectly legitimate that I set my sleep account firmly in the blue by saving up with the occasional nap, for more arduous times.

Am currently doing scholarships applications. Please help me pray to God/Yahweh/Buddha/anyone above that I get at least one.

My tolerance for incompetence is somewhere just below the explosive level right now. The problem with that is that the mounting pressure is usually relieved by some extravagant act of violence, i.e. clobbering someone to death for no particular reason.

Why must all ministries insist on having an automated system when you call in. Call it interactive, whatever. It is retarded. It goes something like this
'For A press 1. For B press 2. For C press 3. If you wish to return to previous menu press 4............... If you are still alive, press *0 for operators assistance.'
And all the automated stuff that they spout are on the website! Are they dumbing down the system to appear more accesible?