11 February 2006
5:01 PM
Higher chinese CMI man.. But never mind that. It hasn't mattered, doesn't matter, and will
not matter. Mum is the most
anti-mandarin person I've ever met. Once she knew I had passed HCL, she was so happy that I could go burn my books already (which I didn't for fear of an E8), but I have decided that book-burning is against my principles, so if anyone has the urge to shred chinese words, be my guest.
That being over and done with, I have officially washed my hands off that beautiful but crazy language. My chinese standard is so low presently that I cannot even speak a
coherent sentence in chinese without having to lapse into english or even
gasp shudder oh the horror hokkien. Wo3 zhen1 de4 hen3 shi1 bai4.
My sis bi_ched about me to her teacher in a school essay in 2004
can you believe that. My
own flesh and blood, betraying me in such a horrendous fashion. It is
unthinkable. It is
unspeakable. She wrote "
my sister whacked me for jumping on her bed. I never will again. She whacked me so hard it still stings now." I stand amazed at the intellectual tone of her essay. There is a lot I have to learn.
I think sarcasm really is the
tearing of the flesh, especially when not used in a humorous context. That said, I do not believe I have ever had the pleasure
or the pain of sarcasm in a quarrel. Thank goodness, or I shall have to be reduced to a puddle of painful tears.
I have just spent 4 hours non-stop on the computer, surfing random places and typing random phrases. (that rhymes.. assonances are powerful.) But enough about me and my rubbish randomness. (ooh alliteration give the girl a nobel) Today is a not so good day, but it will get better. Because I doubt it can get any worse really. It is all in the mind. Pain is relative. Belting out Bad Day by Daniel Powter really helps. Or Avril Lavigne's Freak Out. It is so therapeutic, much better than retail therapy.
I think that I should just forget about eating raisins. Yes I think I should. It involves too much emotion that is better channelled elsewhere, and the pieces of my heart that break off every time something goes wrong (and they usually do) is too frequent, too much. I will forget the pain if I am too used to it. But what will I become..
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