I woke up to the sound of pattering rain. My room was dark and gloomy. My eyes wandered to to the clock and I was surprised to see it was only 11 in the morning. The epiphany of grief hit me in waves and I knew the dementors had come for me at last.
"It's raining!" All of a sudden my sister and aunt became jumping jacks as if they had been wound up very energetically, the key flushed away into the toilet. I stood morosely, the thunder lightening in my eyes. It was obvious, I was going through the terrible blahs of my life. And my best friends message, "Brace yourselves! Thor is coming!" did nothing to lift up the corners of my mouth as I turned round to hit the books. I mean, literally hit those 10 feet piles of utter ridiculousness.....
Don't get me wrong. I love to read and study and learn and all that jazz which is not accepted at the place where I go. To come out flying on my Firebolt with flying colours, I would have to grab one book (the one recommended by the teacher, of course) learn it by heart without any sense of what I'm trapping into my brain and reproduce it. No, not reproduce it, produce it as it is on paper. And hey! I grabbed the 1st position in more than 100 students! And I didn't even know what I was doing!
Sometimes I feel as if the brain is a vestigial organ. No thinking, no integration, no sequence. In fact! You should give me a lobotomy. You know, cut out all that useless gray matter that's taking up all this space in my head. But leave the hippocampus please! That's my secret one-way ticket to "success"!
It's so ironic. Good scores are all that matter. If you use your brain, it's a mockery. A laugh riot.
To think, when we finally deal with a patient, our "learning" will be so "helpful". As in the amount of information stored in our heads, of which we can neither make head or tail out of, would be very essential in saving a life. Like...like a definition! Better than cure!
Apart from all the wise cracks and dripping sarcasm (at which I'm so good at), struggle is a constant thorn in my side. Oh, I mean my oblique muscles. And the myriad looks and comments *you know that book is not for your level, it's way too hard to understand better yet memorize* seem to stifle the life out of me *I'm way too young to die* and the laughs and the anyone-not-figuring-me-out phase and the "average student" tattooed across my forehead like an unwanted advertisement......
All in all, the sun shines brighter on the bright side *obviously* and the grass is always greener on the other side *myopic vision baby* See? I'm doing it again.
I'm waiting and working for a feather in my cap one day. I know it'll come. An eagles. No no! A stork's. Or maybe a sparrow's. Oh, wait I already have too many itty bitty sparrow feather's in my torn cap.......
"It's raining!" All of a sudden my sister and aunt became jumping jacks as if they had been wound up very energetically, the key flushed away into the toilet. I stood morosely, the thunder lightening in my eyes. It was obvious, I was going through the terrible blahs of my life. And my best friends message, "Brace yourselves! Thor is coming!" did nothing to lift up the corners of my mouth as I turned round to hit the books. I mean, literally hit those 10 feet piles of utter ridiculousness.....
Sometimes I feel as if the brain is a vestigial organ. No thinking, no integration, no sequence. In fact! You should give me a lobotomy. You know, cut out all that useless gray matter that's taking up all this space in my head. But leave the hippocampus please! That's my secret one-way ticket to "success"!
It's so ironic. Good scores are all that matter. If you use your brain, it's a mockery. A laugh riot.
To think, when we finally deal with a patient, our "learning" will be so "helpful". As in the amount of information stored in our heads, of which we can neither make head or tail out of, would be very essential in saving a life. Like...like a definition! Better than cure!
Apart from all the wise cracks and dripping sarcasm (at which I'm so good at), struggle is a constant thorn in my side. Oh, I mean my oblique muscles. And the myriad looks and comments *you know that book is not for your level, it's way too hard to understand better yet memorize* seem to stifle the life out of me *I'm way too young to die* and the laughs and the anyone-not-figuring-me-out phase and the "average student" tattooed across my forehead like an unwanted advertisement......
All in all, the sun shines brighter on the bright side *obviously* and the grass is always greener on the other side *myopic vision baby* See? I'm doing it again.
I'm waiting and working for a feather in my cap one day. I know it'll come. An eagles. No no! A stork's. Or maybe a sparrow's. Oh, wait I already have too many itty bitty sparrow feather's in my torn cap.......
