anotherlongshot (anotherlongshot) wrote,
anotherlongshot
anotherlongshot

taking off the mask

Yesterday: Rotted at my grandma's after rotting at home till around 5 p.m. Okay. I wasn't exactly rotting. I was writing the MitRu/RuMit fic I mentioned in the previous entry. And... I finished it. Granted, it sucks the big one but still, my first shounen-ai fic! I'm so proud!

Read. You know you want to. Especially since we're talking about two absolutely gorgeous bishounens being paired together. Oh yes!

Um, yeah, anyway. That was yesterday. Today I went to Outram to see a Chinese physician or whatever for my poor ankle. It's supposed to hurt but it didn't, not even when the guy twisted my ankle a bit and created this 'crack' sound. Was kind of fun. Or maybe it's just me.

The guy's really good though. Me and my family have been going to that same place to treat stupid injuries like sprained ankles and shit like that for as long as I can remember. In primary school, aboutt eight or nine years ago, I had a sprained ankle and my mom brought me to that guy to you know, massage, but it's not really massaging, don't know how to say it in English but I'll find out. Anyway, after being treated, after wincing through the entire process because it tickles rather than hurts when he kneads the base of your foot, my poor ankle healed in a day.

The current injury still hasn't healed, even though I got the damn thing on Thursday. Gah.

Hmm. I haven't done any of my schoolwork. Haven't done any reading. Haven't even touched the notes.

But I'm just SO BLOODY LAZY!

Wow. Arts classes in Hwa Chong JC actually has class blogs. Jeez. I can't imagine my class ever having a class blog, or me ever bothering with it. I mean if we had one I'd probably drop by periodically to laugh at the shit written in there.

In all honesty, I'm not too fond of my class. It's okay. It's just too fucking big. I mean, twenty-fucking-nine people is like... huge for a JC class. And those idiots just keep coming in. We had 27 on the first day, then 28, then Mel told me the total was 29 as of Friday.

Not only that, I don't really dig half the people in it either. The guys are all right. I mean, what kind of problem would I have against seven pathetic guys among twenty-two girls? They're okay. A couple of nice ones. And of course, one eye-candy, dearest beloved Meg Ryan.

It's the girls that I have a problem with. I can count on one hand the girls in my class I can get along with without faking it: four. Mel, of course, and three other girls.

Maybe I'm being too harsh, because after all, I've attended like one day of school with them?

Still, I'm already beginning to see a pattern emerging with the way they choose their cliques. The pretty and out-going girls from Fairfield Methodist stick together, the not-so-pretty and hardworking girls from various neighbourhood schools stick together, blah blah fucking blah, while Mel and I host a two-women show, the two Literature freaks, the two arthouse fanatics, the two of us who go around yelling at the top of our lungs and mimicking American bimboes and stupid teenagers with their "like, oh my god, like, so totally, like, HOT!", rolling our eyes at the sheer mundaneness that surrounds our beloved JJC sometimes, and for whatever reason, turning our backs on the majority of our classmates without really giving them a chance, simply because they don't measure up, they're not interesting enough, they're not us enough.

Moral of the story? I'm glad I have Mel as a friend.

I can't imagine hanging with the pretty girls clique. I can't imagine hanging with the hardworking girls clique either. There are just some people whose personalities don't click with yours. You are friendly towards each other, but you know that it's done for politeness's sake and not much else. Whenever I talk to some of them, there's always this thought at the back of my mind that tells me that I'm faking it. I'm smiling, but I don't really want to, because I can't really be bothered, but I'm doing it anyway because it's the nice thing to do.

And the conversations always end after five sentences. Why? Because we've got absolutely nuts to say to each other.

That's the vibe I've got from my classmates during the two days I've been with them.

Pretty sad, but when you think about it? Nobody really cares.

I don't care. I'm out of there in less than two years anyway.

In retrospect though, I've always been thinking along that line. Always going, "oh what the hell, I won't be seeing those people after all's said and done anyway." And it's true. I haven't seen my secondary school classmates since graduation (apart from my friends and the two who're also in JJC with me). I haven't talked to them since graduation either.

And you know what? Perfectly fine with me.

I couldn't care less.

Tags: fanfiction, injuries, junior college, mel, slam dunk
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