LCS completely pissed the living shit out of me today, and I wasn't the only one who was irritated. The lecturer made us jump through all these needless, extraneous, bloody hell ridiculous hoops just to get our groups and tutorial groups, and half the time I was sitting there, bored out of my skull, thinking, What the hell is the point? First she made us gather round (TM Tim Gunn, Project Runway <3) in our Public Law tutorial groups, then she flashed some story thingy and split everyone into the three different roles found in the story thingy. Then she was all, Form a group of three with people that were not assigned the same role as you.
I didn't know 50% of the people in my Public Law tutorial group, but if that was the way it was, then okay, whatever, it's a freaking four-credit module that's nothing like CLT so who the fuck cares. So I was all prepared to muster up a smile and approach my fellow TG mates - until the lecturer was all, You don't have to form a group with the people in your Public Law TG.
FUUUUUCK. If there were a lesson to be learnt there, I think I missed it.
See what I meant about the hoops-jumping? The only good thing that came out of the whole situation was that Rui, Mag and I were miraculously assigned three discrete roles so we happily and joyously formed a group. The course sounds like a complete pain in the ass, much like Trial Advocacy. But unlike Trial Advocacy, this isn't a pass/fail which means I actually have to do work. WTF. And it's a bunch of Company-related bullcrap plus some Contract shit thrown in to the mix which I thought were mercifully put behind me, but no. Just when I thought life couldn't get any worse, LCS has to creep up behind me and fuck me in the ass.
Since I mentioned Contract, let me just say that I picked up a random book at Kino the other day, a collection of short stories by some dude named Eliot Perlman. Never heard of him, didn't matter, because the collection is called "The Reasons I Won't Be Coming" and I read the first two sentences of the first story and I knew I had to get it. So my point is, I came home, flipped through the book, and found a story entitled "The Hong Kong Fir Doctrine".
It's absolutely amazing. It's amazing in the sense that I liked his style and felt immensely sorry for the protagonist. There isn't much of a plot, much less a point, and I wouldn't say he's one of the best writers I've ever read ever. But what was also amazing? I knew that Hong Kong Fir sounded familiar, and I traced it back to my hellish Contract days in which I comprehended jack shit. I gave myself a pat on the back for managing to know that Hong Kong Fir was a Contract case. But apart from that? Zilch, nada, zero. And the amazing part of the story? It was the first time ever that I knew what the case stood for.
I'm a genius, I know. If I still wonder why I can't do well in law school, wonder no more, Self. The answer is glaringly obvious.
I wrote something early this morning at 1.40 a.m. and surprisingly, reading it over didn't and doesn't make me want to hurl. It was one of those completely random moments during which inspiration struck, just like that, a snap of the fingers, and the rarity of it was in the form of this oft-elusive sense of cohesion that I never manage to have when I write pretend-poetry. It's like, I was reading some poetry I saved on MS Word, then Leonardo DiCaprio's new movie Blood Diamond popped into my head (completely random), and just like that, everything else fell into place. Even the title had the courtesy of showing up for the finishing touches.
My mood swings are disgustingly violent. I drift through school nowadays with a perpetually pissed-off look on my face. I don't look at people; I look past them, look through them, as if they're not there. The only people whose presence I deign to acknowledge are my friends. That's it.
School still feels unreal. I'm not settled in; I can't settle down this semester. Tris posed an interesting question to me yesterday: "I'm committed to doing well for this semester. Aren't you?"
Ah, I wish I could answer in the affirmative. But the thing is, no matter what I think my answer to that question is, the ultimate control lies elsewhere. My moods, emotions, degree of interest. All that hackneyed bullshit, juvenile excuses I sprout over and over to make myself feel better. As it stands I don't know why I can't start correcting my mistakes, purchase a new outlook, just be the person I wanted myself to be.
And at the heart of everything, I'm not like Veronica. I can't busy myself with new projects. If something is broken, I'd need to fix it, or throw it away, before I can bring myself to focus my attention elsewhere. Whereas my first instinct was always to throw broken shit away in the past, now all I want to do is to sit down, whip out a how-to manual, and fix the goddamn thing. Because, you know, some of your possessions are way too precious to just throw out of the window like useless garbage. A shoebox full of letters you received from your friends in secondary school, another shoebox half-filled with mementoes from your JC boyfriend, an entire drawer full of things from primary school. How do you throw things like that away, things so choked to the brim with sentimental (I hate this word, but nevermind) value?
So yeah. I have no idea what I'm talking about. It's just one of those days. I seriously suspect it's PMS.
I no longer believe in the ferocity of my pessimism, the hardiness of the walls around my heart, the shocking electricity of the tripwires around the walls around my heart. It's one thing to keep yourself at bay, another completely to do so for no good reason other than "my history instructs me to". You'd be missing out on the scenery along the way. The vast, boundless plains of endless possibilities, uncluttered and unfettered by skyscrapers and harsh empty glass panels. The uncluttered view of the clear blue sky. You don't see the dark cloud looming ahead, because there isn't one, and even if there is one you're secure in knowing that you can weather the storm.
Here's to tomorrow's sadistic 9 a.m. Public Law lecture. Hopefully I can wake up in time to comb my hair nicely and choose a nice bottom to go with my Go Pirates t-shirt (Yellow Day tomorrow!). Today was Blue Day and I only have one blue shirt and I absolutely hate it and I woke up rather late and so in my haste I picked out the first skirt I could get my hands on and went to school looking shitty. Joy and happiness.
Had a blast with Mag today. Pepper Lunch is yummy. She was all, "My tube reappeared. How come?"
HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA.
We took spastic videos of each other at Coffee Club. I hate watching myself on film; it's just so damn weird. And I realised today how bloody weird I look; in fact, I realised today how fucking ugly I am. Yuck. Another reason to lose weight. Having a hot figure at least takes attention away from your fugly face.