exchanges.

The languages are over, for the better or for the worse.
I didn't take the paper in the school hall today but had it in a Sec2 classroom instead. Gee, the 2008 bunch of Sec 2s are one hell of a lucky lot. They have got nice chairs- ones with the back rest- and nice tables. We Sec 4s are stuck with the oldies. The retros. In other words, our chairs and tables suck big time. I had to paste masking tape to cover the rusty areas to save my pants(WHITE PANTS) and shoes from getting stained and covered with iron3 oxide. Yeah.

Chinese was norm today. I found it slightly better in comparison to last year's paper. But the question is, will I score or drown.
It always was.
I wrote the essay on reality programs- boons and banes. I touched on Campus Superstar and Live the Dream. Although the latter sounds quirky when I translated it into mandarin. Ok, it sounded dumb and retarded.
The Paper 2 was tricky. Open ended questions often left me having to scour the entire passage for answers. And I especially hate those questions that asked you to voice your own opinions. I don't mind if it's in English, but in Chinese? Gawd. I need a dictionary.

I think my luck is running out already. I think it was at its peak at Primary 6.
Let me bore you with my hypothesis.
I got ITP that year. (PS: It's not International Tech Park)
So, I got warded and blah blah blah. While the rest of the Primary 6-ers were busy mugging, watching Pokemon, playing Pokemon, doing homework...I was stuck in my ward bored to death. Well, except for the first night.
For procedure sake, the doctors had to poke that needle thingy into my hand. You know, you always see patients having that needle in their hand. Think Spiderman except the outlet is on the top. So, little me followed the nurses to a special room.
Now I know why it's in the corner.
Inside, there were two doctors. One was a trainee and the other, obviously the senior who would salvage the situation if shit happens.
And shit did happen.
The old one said that I'm in for a rough night. She could had done better if she'd said that this trainee is about to experiment her needling skills on me.
So, the trainee began to stick needles and draw out some blood.
First try. Zilch
Second try. Zilch
Third try. Zilch
Three needles had pierced my skin. No blood. What are the odds? I was like. Ouch. Real ouch. I found the pain less hurtful if I looked at them sticking the needle; because at least I know what's hitting me.
The senior doctor stepped in.
Let me try, she said.
She tried once.
Tadah! Blood. For the first time in my life, I was glad to see blood.
Then the trainee gave me an apologetic look and brought me back to my ward. Nah, I'm ok. (see. so brave)

Then I was pretty much stuck there for the following weeks doing some science papers whenever I had the mood. I watched plenty of spongebob though. Writing was a pain, literally, because of the needle and my index finger. The nurses had to draw blood from it every day in the afternoon. So, gripping the Pilot really hurt.
But I guess there was something good in the end.
I didn't study much for the PSLE. So I was really surprised, not pleased, that I got like As for the subjects except for Math. I got a B. Maybe they were low As but who cares.
I got 231 and got into Maris Stella.

So now I'm thinking that perhaps my luck has ran out. The well has dried. And I'm about to die.
O levels.
O levels.
O levels.
O levels.
I wonder how I'll fare. I wish that the results will be announced after New Year so that I can be merry and not sad celebrating the New Year. Some irony.
Well. That's enough lamenting.