The world does not fully appreciate erasers. If it wasn’t for these tiny little bits of rubber, we wouldn’t have all the stuff we have in out lives. No homes, no cars, no roads, and worst of all, no dvd players. Without erasers, architects, engineers and all those inventing people would never have been able to rub out their mistakes and put them right! So I reckon we owe most of our materialistic comfort to the humble eraser. The only fitting way to honour these marvellous bouncy rub-outy things is to have a World Eraser Day, where people all over the world take their erasers out to lunch and worship them with offerings of pencil marks.
2:46 AM
10. You forget where your car is parked at the airport. You're not even sure which airport.
9. The airline frequently upgrades you to "co-pilot".
8. You dial 9 even when you're at home.
7. The staff at the Marriott think you work there.
6. Your love life has gone from phone sex to fax sex.
5. You know the best restaurants in cities most people can't even spell.
4. Your picture appears on milk cartons.
3. You have conjugal visits with your wife at the airport.
2. When you return home your children ask you how long you'll be visiting.
1. Your frequent flyer level enables you to take the plane wherever you like as long as you return with a full tank of gas.
3:11 AM
I’m back from Penang (evidently). Had an absolutely brill time there, especially since there weren’t any adults around. Definitely glad I went for it, in fact, as long as my classmates were around, we’d have loads of fun no matter where we were.
There was this temple we went to, a snake temple to be exact. I had two snakes coiled round my hands and another one round my neck. Not as creepy as I had thought it’d be. Just a little unnerving to have a snake head so close to mine. I was holding them gingerly, worried that they might find me annoying, careful to keep my head far far away from the snakes’, then the guy took them back, nuzzled them and kissed them. Riiiiiiiggghhhht. At least one person finds them cuddly.
In total, we visited about three temples, and climbed about 600 steps in all...rough-hewn, steep, NOT user-friendly steps. So that’d make it more or less 1200 steps up and down. Now I know how monks get to be so fit.
We went jet skiing as well. Best part of the trip. I rode pillion the first half, clutching my sadistic friend round the middle. He seemed to take extra joy in slamming the jet ski from wave to wave at full speed then spinning it around in sharp turns, trying to pitch me off. But I had my hands Velcro-ed to him, so if I flew off, hell I was going to take him with me!
Then it was my turn! That was my first time on a jet ski, so at least I had a good excuse if I flipped the machine end over end, killing us both in the process. But by and by, I got bored of chugging along at a dugong’s pace, so I opened full throttle and just tore off, giving my friend a heart attack. Managed to end the run without crashing us both onto the rocks, so I couldn’t have been too bad. J Wasn’t my fault that the jet ski decided to lop a swimmer’s arm off. He was in the way. :Þ
I think I was the only ass who forgot to bring a swimsuit along. But it didn’t matter much cuz I just jumped in anyway. Tank top, boardshorts and all. Standing on the guys’ shoulders, flipping off, wrestling, I must’ve swallowed half the pool water...which is kinda gross, considering all the ppl who had been in there. That could be what the ‘P’ in ‘pool’ stands for. Blearghh!
I kept thinking about how this was my last year with them. But most of us will probably end up in the same college anyway. So that’s not too bad. Wonder if I’ll cry at our farewell party. Maybe if I’m drunk enough.
2:30 AM
I can't believe I actually made that. If you've watched Angel, go check it out.
7:02 PM
Wednesday, May 29, 2002
My latest article for the Catholic mag I’d written for before has been axed. L All because I was a teensy-weensy bit critical.
Here’s the part I think they didn’t much like.
~
"And so mass ended (come back next week), people waved goodbye to each other, and the youth (my friend and I included) trooped off to join in the after-mass sessions and activities. I have to say that it was a very unexpected experience. I definitely didn’t expect to have my hands ‘cuffed’ behind my back, be shoved into a chair and someone in my face roaring, “DID YOU TALK DURING MASS?!!!” Haha, wasn’t that fun. For kids still in primary school perhaps, not for teens almost out of school. Of course, I might have walked into the wrong room. After being told how naughty we’d been, we were ordered (yes, ordered – the game wasn’t over yet) to sit on the floor for a little talk. And I learnt how uncomfortable sitting cross-legged on the floor with my hands Velcro-ed behind my back could be.
Then one of the co-ordinators proceeded to lecture us on the evils of pre-marital sex. It seems that every time I attend a talk for teens, this topic always seems to pop up. I suppose it’s might be a tad difficult to say ‘Thou shalt not practise the mattress mambo before getting hitched’ without sounding a little too preachy, but that’s exactly how it came out. Well, they tried. Perhaps next time, they could talk about other things, like ‘Thou shalt not taketh up a gun and shooteth down everybody in thine school just because nobody liketh-ed thee / thou were kicketh-ed out in the first place.’
As much as we would have loved to, my friend and I couldn’t stay for the rest of the night. So we wriggled out of our straps, stretched our cramped legs, said our goodbyes and took one of the free chastity belts on the way out the door."
~
Thursday, May 23, 2002
This is the perfect time for me to do the Scottish thing where I lift up my kilt and scream ‘FREEDOM!!!!!’ The mid-terms are finally over!!! Bwahahahahahhahahahaha. No more midnight slogging, no more waking up with grocery bags under my eyes, no more mush for brains. This is one of the best parts of the school year. When you’ve just finished an exam and know that the next one is ages and ages away...well, two months, but let’s not spoil the mood.
Students today are put under too much stress. School years are supposed to be the best years of your life, but almost a quarter of them are wasted away, what with all the mugging you have to do. And for what? When you get out of school, the A students end up working under the B students; the C students own the businesses; and the D students become millionaires. I got that from a mag, but it’s pretty true anyway. It’s such a total waste. We’d be way better off learning how to make it in the outside world instead. But no, oh no, let’s bombard the kids with textbooks upon textbooks of useless crap which they’ll never use in the real world anyway, and we’ll wipe out the rainforests in Brazil while we’re at it. Stupid buggers.
There. I started off full of glee and now I feel all pissed off and angry. Grrr…
3:21 AM
Thursday, May 09, 2002
We’re having our Sports Week at the moment, so we’ve been going out to the stadium for all the finals. I had to run the 800m, 1500m, 3000m and a last-minute 4 x 400m. All I have to say for myself is that I’ll never have to run again...thank god.
There is no greater torture than long-distance running. You just run and run and run till you can’t feel your legs and your chest’s on fire and you’re gasping for breath that’s never enough, and you just can’t stop. You WANT to stop. Your brain’s hammering out messages that you HAVE to stop, that you can’t keep it up, but your legs just refuse to listen...cuz they’re not there anymore. It’s almost hypnotic watching your own legs swinging back and forth. You know they’re attached to you, they seem so far away and all you feel is a dead weight carrying you forward. But of course, on the track, you don’t have the clarity of mind to think of all that. All that’s running through your mind is, “Grrrkkk! Grrrkk! Don’t stop! DON’T STOP! *Gasp!!!*”
And for all that shit I had to go through, the only medal I got was a silver for the 1500 and a bronze for the 4 x 400. But that’s a team event, so that doesn’t really count. Nearly got disqualified for the 1500 though. The bronze medallist and I were neck-to-neck sprinting for the silver. Like a bloody F1 race, it was. So obviously, we were pretty close, and my elbow apparently ‘brushed’ her. « (TOTALLY UNINTENTIONAL! I play fair.) So, the sportsmaster nearly cancelled my name out for ‘obstructing’. Yeah right, more like disqualifying me when she ran into my elbow. In the end, he didn’t anyway, so that turned out alright.
I’m a bit like a burnt chicken right now. The sun was a little on the scorching side today. They had shovels and buckets by the side of the track to scoop up all the melted athletes and supporters.
There was this poem etched into a huge rock by the side of the track. Found it rather inspirational. Actually memorised it...wow.
A Sportsman’s Prayer
O God, help me to win
For I always want to win
But if in thy inscrutable wisdom
Thou willest me not to win
Then help make me a good loser
For when the one great scorer
Comes to write against your name
He writes not that you won or lost
But how you played the game
Tuesday, May 07, 2002
God...online again...finally. Feel like planting a big sloppy kiss on my screen. *Muaaaaaaaks*
Huh...I actually went to church (for once) on Saturday. They had this mass for teens program going on and I have to write an article on it for the mag. Hmm...wrong intentions. I’d be feeling guilty and ashamed but it’s just too much of an effort.
Back to church. I managed to drag a friend along with me (literally, I had him by the ear), so that was alright. We got there and were just hanging around outside for a while when this late-twenty something year old woman came up to us. Hi!m yname’sMarshawhat’syournameisthisyourfirsttimehereyou’llhaveagreattime!!! *BREATHE* Whydon’tyoucomeonindon’tbeshycomeonyoucansitinfront! And before you could blink twice and let out an ‘eh?’, she had us by the arms and flinged us into a pew.
If only crabby sales assistants were that enthusiastic, instead of following us around with their beady eyes ready to pounce on us the moment we slip the bloody cash register into our pockets.
Anyway, the mass itself wasn’t too bad. A lot of music, just for the dear lil’ kids, let’s try to make church vaguely resemble fun for them. I’m not kidding, the floor was actually vibrating. Then again, we were right next to the band, positioned directly in front of the amps. Alright Marsha, we got the point.
There was this girl sitting next to me. We started a conversation and somehow got to the question of what I’d be doing after coll. When I told her I’d no idea, she reached over and patted me on the thigh, “There, there. Don’t worry. Jesus will show you the way.” How sweet. I barely concealed the urge to lop her hand off and hammer a sign onto my leg – DO NOT TOUCH! Yes, I’m afraid church does that to me. The preach-ier you get on me, the more I become like a slab of overgrilled beef – black (mood) on the outside, tough and unchewable on the inside. Of course, I’m a very placid, easy-going ‘look at the bee-youtiful flowers’ person by nature. Still. For all she knew, I could’ve been a Satanist checking out the opposition, and that could’ve been enough to set me off, going home to mutter curses over a sacrificial goat. But I’m not. *And a goat let out a sigh of relief that night*
Which reminds me of a stupid quote: I’m not a vegetarian cuz I love animals; I’m a vegetarian cuz I hate plants.
2:10 AM
