My hair sets itself into a pretty terrific hairstyle (you can't tell how poofy it is in the photo), my eyes become alarmingly tiny, and I am deathly pale. (Ok, Justin looks a little faded here too so maybe it was the flash.)
Now you understand how I can scare myself silly by looking into the mirror in the middle of the night sometimes.
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I've been stressing out and churning out documents for the teachers whom I've asked to write recommendations for me. And yesterday, I finally compiled a nice neat set of forms and writeups and information, together with labelled envelopes and too-many-stamps (kiasu lah) in each envelop for the teachers. And even a contents page leh :D
Ms Lim seems to think the essay's relevant and interesting, which is great. And her English is ever-powderful (:
Mr Tan was really nice, read through the stuff I've written and gave suggestions and everything. And said he'll get an airmail sticker for me because I had forgotten about that. (Note to self: get Daddy to buy some.)
The Other Teacher, however, got into a huff because I had left it in her pigeon hole with a note (I couldn't contact her), forgot to include an airmail sticker, didn't personally lick the stamps and stick them onto the envelop for her, and included some forms in the file instead of in the envelop ("where got people so funny wan, file up the forms"). (But where got people so funny wan, file everything and leave a few forms hanging loose.) She sent back the entire set of stuff to me ... so I've got to bring it back next week with everything done up properly.
I don't think she was terribly, genuinely angry with me, after all she stuck out her tongue at me as a form of "goodbye" after the whole episode in the staff room, but I'm just rather upset that she didn't appreciate my hours and hours and days and days of effort at all. All the 'problems' are, realistically speaking, extremely trivial. And she sent me off saying that if I was going to ask her to write recommendations for other universities, I better improve on it the next time.
Aiyah. I suppose it could have been worse. Just wallowing in self-pity and feeling wronged, indulge me for a while.
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Haha I'm fine actually! (That was kinda cathartic :D )
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Speaking of Ms Lim (yes, that was a number of paragraphs ago), the other day she was talking about the hungry ghost month (for the life of me I don't understand how come there are 2 consecutive hungry ghost months this year), and she mentioned something about 'rabid burning'. Bunny-loving me heard 'rabbit burning', gasped extremely audibly and was tortured by images of cute rabbits being burnt alive long after that.
Actually, that reminds me of the day (just recently) I was in the bus, and I suddenly saw a great bushy brown thing flapping violently from side to side in the middle of the road, and squealed so loudly 'OH MY GOSH' that many heads in the bus turned to stare at the poor dying squirrel that had been crushed by a vehicle ): It was writhing and swinging its tail, trying desperately to get up, but I suspect it must have been killed within the next minute.
Rabbits and squirrels don't deserve to die ):
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Expectations are running high. All my life, I've been producing excellent results, people think I'm intelligent, people think I'm hardworking (HAHA), people think I'll do well "as usual".
And not many realise how slim my chances of getting into Cornell are. 200 places for the course. 20 international students. About 6 international students get in yearly through Early Decision. Number of Singaporeans in the course each year? Zero, one, two, and perhaps three on an unexpectedly good year.
What have I got that the thousands of other applicants don't?
Some people say to "believe in yourself" but no matter how hard you believe, if you haven't got what it takes, you just don't have it. Believe, believe, believe and you'll end up even more crushed when reality smashes down upon you. Pessimism is irritating if it makes you whine to everybody around you, but I still prefer pessimism over optimism. Okay, maybe not pessimism, more like, um, not expecting too much.
I guess I shall just be honest (considered inventing an awesome story to put in my essay but stuck to the truth in the end), be myself, and pray for the best. If I get it, praise God, if I don't, praise God. Because it means that there is an even better route out there, I may not understand why now, I'll probably cry and soak through a few of Justin's sleeves first, but ultimately I know that
In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps.
Proverbs 16:9
We shall see how it goes.
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So little time, so much to do. (Oh my goodness that's the ultimate cliche to use.)
University stuff shall have to be put on hold for now, and I shall commence mugging. Not so much 'resume' mugging, but I think the better word is 'commence'.
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Mummy just came in to rant about tuition, and I realise I feel the same as her.
It's always been a Number One Studying Law of mine to study independently. I don't use anybody's notes, I don't look for teachers to explain stuff to me unless I REALLY am incapable of understanding it, and I definitely do NOT go for tuition. Never in my life, haha.
I know tuition works great for many people. And if you do well (probably much better than me) because of tuition, then that's great for you! But even though it might benefit me if I took some classes myself, the idea of being spoonfed and led by the hand in my studies gives me the goosebumps.
Yeah, it's just a matter of pride. Pride, pride, pride. I want to know that if I do well, it's because I relied on noone but myself, and if I do poorly, it's because of noone but myself as well. The idea of being self-motivated instead of being forced to study.
And besides, I don't think my parents would even let me have tuition if I wanted.
(Please, please, please don't think that I'm putting down anybody who goes for tuition, I think it's great for you but it's just not great for me because of personal reasons.)
(Blogging sucks like this, because I have to tiptoe gingerly around with my words, and try not to offend anybody. Which makes blogging very fake, which defeats the initial purpose of blogging, at least for me. But ironically that's what makes blogging fun too, because it's easy to pretend you're living another life. Just don't blog about some of the nastier sections of your life and everything seems perfect for that moment.)
(I am getting wordier and wordier, and my paragraphs don't even link, and since I'm not always talking about bimbotic stuff (that seems to form the bulk of people's Favourite Blogs to read), I predict that in the near future, even Wenloong will stop reading my long entries to the very end. Hehehe yes Wenloong?)