After being mocked unintentionally in Maths as a result of helping a friend with a question, I have come to the fact that I am gradually becoming sick of being treated this way in a class like this. I've had enough of being talked back at, without being looked at in the face. I've had enough of the smart ass comments being shot at me everytime I ask a simple, innocent question. I've had it all too much, and now I want to make the change.

I want to rise above those who choose to be too good for a class with me in it. I want to show them that I can be greater than what they think. I want to show them what I am capable of.

Oh, I have such great aspirations. Sometimes I tell myself I can't do it, but a small, tiny part of me knows I can.

I'm going to give them a fight. If not, I'm going for a struggle then :)

Cheers.

It's that time of the year again. Photographs day. It is the day many people dread. The boarding house girls flock to their friends for hairstyle ideas and decide whether they should sneak some foundation or lipstick past the unnecessarily stressed out Ms Powell, who screams "Pull your tie up!" or "Put your hair behind your shoulders!" over and over again (Some may wonder whether she says these things in her sleep!). Some girls don't give a rat's ass, though - but that's highly unlikely.

The boarding house wakes up at seven in the morning. Everybody reluctantly and gravely moves out of bed and heads for the bathrooms. Soon, everybody picks up pace. Teeth. Face. Face. Face. Face. Face. Face. Hair. Hair. Hair. Hair. Hair. Hair. Hair. Face. Face. Hair. Breakfast is either skipped or rushed into the schedule. The prim and proper looking boarders move down to the sports centre, where all the group photographs are taken. Everybody is still fixing up their hair. I know I am, for a fact. I still try to fix up my hair after ruining its shape with Jude's strong hair wax. My hair makes me look like a cone head. The boarders photograph is taken. I'm glad I made it from first to third row this year.

The rest of the day, is filled with photographs. Stage photographs, Year photographs, House photographs, Drama photographs, Music photographs, Mock Trial photographs, D of Ed photographs and Individual photographs. It's crazy. It's all crazy. There are people running everywhere at every minute of the day. Teachers get lazy when getting to class because they know their students aren't going to be there anyway.

It seems to be a great custom that on the day of our senior photographs, the weather is horrid. It rains. It gets as humid as KL on a bad day. People's hair get ruined. People's blazers get wet, and apparently, in result turns smelly. I don't understand why the weather had to pick this specific day to cry, and then not bother wiping the tears away.

I had my photograph taken one too many times today. Usually, if you're an inactive student in the school's community, you would only have to go for Stage, Year, House and Individual photographs. Oh, the joy of being part of the school community! Towards the end of last year, I joined three bands - three extra photographs are taken. Three more of the lining-up processes must be done. This, in addition with the disgusting weather (which strongly reminds me of KL), kills me, along with all the other students who have their photographs taken repeatedly throughout the day.

Oh, but I am well! I did my English speech and Biology practical test last Tuesday, both in the morning before recess. It was all right, I suppose. What do you want me to say about an assessment? It was shit damn right it was yeaaa?

Maths next Tuesday (about some function crap, which I am failing to comprehend). Modern History on Wednesday (something about... analysing a source of Emily Wilding, or someone like that). Tildesley Tennis Tournament next Thursday. The joys of being in Year 11.

I am counting the days to my departure from this land. I can't wait to get back. I can taste the roti canai and ais milo already. I have so many plans for this break. I want to start part time work at the Coffee Bean nearby my apartment, or at Starbucks or just somewhere interesting!

I haven't felt this impatient like this in a very long while.
I simply cannot wait.

Oh, by the way, I made it on the school's newsletter. My name, for the first time, was printed for Best & Fairest for a tennis match we played last weekend. Hip-hip-hooray to me :)



Cheers :)

I thought that we were on a great track during yesterday's tennis match at Matraville against Tara. I thought about it so much, that in the last doubles matches on a 3-3 score, my mind went too far and we lost the match.

I felt disappointed in myself after the match. I scorned at myself for being careless in not focusing on the game. Never, ever should I take my mind off the game and onto some road of victory. However, I did enjoy myself that morning. I put up a good game. I lost my first doubles, tied my singles and then lost the next doubles.

I'd been opening my mind to many different and new occupation interests lately. Instead of keeping my mind on something I truly enjoy (as a pasttime), like photography, I have been thinking about other possible interests. Science was one of them. I wondered if I might do a good job in a science field. Maybe I could do a degree in biotechnology (seeing that I do Biology now), or some strange science thing. If I was reaaaaaally smart, I'd think about Medicine, or something in that field.

I figured I want to do something interesting. Something that would keep me at the edge of my seat in a lecture. I don't want to do something that would bore me after the second year, and then become the death of me in the last year. I want to keep interested in the subject/field for the whole period of time I study it.

This weekend's been all thoughtful and crap. I reminded myself that I am turning eighteen in less than a year's time. I wondered: what would that mean? That would mean, I would be able to walk into any liquor shop and purchase a bottle of beer after school. That would mean, I would have cigarettes right at my feet. That would mean, I can go into pubs and bars. That would mean, I am officially an adult. I think it's scary. I'll be like, like an adult.

Well, what is that supposed to mean?

Cheers.

That random post was a huge success. I received many letters and SMSs in the last two days. It's amazing what one single post can do, just like that!

Obviously, if you did not catch on to my sarcasm, I didn't receive any emails/letters/SMSs. It's all right. You and I just haven't got the time to be bothered! :)

I have, undoubtedly, been busy to the bone. Assessments are lining up, and I keep delaying my reactions towards them. It's a bad attitude, but I'm just really caught up in work and other committments.

Clubs & Choirs is tomorrow. The interhouse choir and debate competition. I've been panicking over my guitar part for Bronte's version of "I'll Be There" by the Jackson 5. The chords give me hand cramps, which makes my hands weak throughout the song. I've been practicing night and day, trying to pick up some extra strength in my fingers and wrist, and hitting the right notes to produce the cleanest and almost perfect sound. It's difficult. I'm required to stand up while playing the guitar. I've never done this before, so I'm not at all used to holding bar chords and whatnot while standing up. I bought myself a beautiful black leather strap (which costed me alot, but in the end it was very much worth the money!) to use. Ohhhhhhhhh am I dead.

When people give me advice, I simply refuse to listen to them. I prefer to stand by my own values and attitudes towards an issue, than follow another's, which I am not familiar with - yet. However, when someone else ends up facing the same issue, I share with them the advice I was given, yet refused to completely take in. It's very hypocritical of myself to do this. Although, I do think about advice when I am given it. It stays in my head, and I ponder about it when it comes to mind.

When someone gives you advice, you should never throw it away. Advice is a favour, not, in a way, food. You don't feed someone with advice because they're starving and you feel sorry for them. You give advice because you feel that it will make a difference in their life or decisions.
Here's a bit of advice, Raeville readers. Don't throw away someone's advice. Keep it in a seperate folder for future research or investigation. Advice is simply valuable.

I have been trying to keep a positive mind on everything I hate. For example, my Monday TAFE classes, which require me to catch the 378 bus to Darlinghurst and take 8 minutes to walk to the school. The class, I think, is a complete waste of time. We hardly learn much, and everyone is very input-less. I call it hell.

On the bus, I don't talk to anyone (obviously). I sit and listen to my music. I have my own personal time-out on the bus, to and from SCEGGS (class). I keep reminding myself: don't see this class as hell, see it as just another class you don't want to go to. After all, it is just another class. Just like every other class I go to every weekday.

You know, we humans are such babies. We don't ever grow up. We age, yet our attitudes are able to stay infantile. We call places hell when we hate to go. I hate Maths, yet I chose to do it for the next two years. I say I can't play the guitar while standing up, yet I still do it and am going to do it tomorrow evening. I say I won't get my English assessment's visual aid done in time for Friday, but I'm already working on it and am going to finish very soon. It's funny how all of us continue to contradict ourselves, over and over again without realising it.

"I hate you!
Yet I don't know or speak with you."

It never fails to amuse me.

Cheers.
PS. I'll end this entry with some photographs I snapped from Sunday on Bronte Beach. Nommy took the one below.

I have a theory that assessment tasks are nothing to be feared for if we don't think about the deadlines and just do it. I figured that if we stop worrying about when your assessment task is due, and just did them beforehand and without rushing, we'd be much happier children :)

Then again, I rarely listen to my own advice. I'm a hypocrite that way. I'm not going to go into detailed paragraphs of when my assessments are due and what they are, because that's a waste of yours and my time. My mind's in a bit of a hectic state, though. I am so busy.

It's about time for a random entry. I haven't posted one before, and I think it would be interesting to read. I promise, I won't make it as boring as many others that I've seen elsewhere.

Have any of you tried the new Coca-Cola Zero yet? I wonder if it's out in Malaysia. It probably isn't, because Malaysia's imports are silly. This drink has real taste and zero sugar. I looked at it's ingredients and it really doesn't have any saturated fat or sugars. Interesting! It tastes like Diet Coke, but sweeter and gassier. Interesting! I bought myself a bottle for six ringgit. Interesting!

I really should have bought a can.

I'm such an antisocial bug. I only talk to my peeps in the boarding house. On the phone, I only get phone calls from MUM or DAD. I only get messages from them too. I think it's pathetic. It's proving the point that I never really needed to get a new phone because I rarely use it!

Call me. Someone, call me! Or drop me an SMS. I'll reply because it's only nice and I like replying. Talk to me, guys. If I don't answer the phone, just leave a message with your number. I'll call you back. I've got so much money in my call card to spend, that it'll be a waste if I have no one to talk to. So, call me. Talk to me. Please?
asdasdasdasdasd
Ok. I took my number off. Why? Because lots (2) have told me that I would be stalked. I wonder though, how could I be stalked? I mean, I'm not that popular anyway, and the people who read my blog are not bothered or just KNOW me. So you know. Rahhhh.

Email me, even. Drop me a HELLO. Seriously, guys. It'd be very nice to hear from my readers and what they hate/think/like about my blog. Don't you know how nice it is to receive email from people you don't really talk to? It's a beautiful feeling, if you haven't experienced it. I promise I'll reply. Really!
kamikazerae@gmail.com

Hell, write to me! I love getting mail. I'll send you something back. A postcard, perhaps. I've got money to spend on stamps and envelopes! Send me a little card saying Happy Belated Birthday, maybe. Or, just a little post-it with a big smile and a HELLO. Please?
Rae L (Boarder)
St Catherine's School
26 Albion St
Waverley 2024
NSW, AUSTRALIA.

Or you know, you could just be uninterested in making someone smile and not be bothered. I don't mind. Really, I don't mind you being reactive and unfriendly. *smile*

I'm playing I'll Be There by Jackson 5 for Clubs & Choirs this coming Thursday. I'm shitting myself. I volunteered to play the guitar, only because I thought Stand By Me by Ben E. King was great and incredibly easy to play. They changed their mind on the song and decided to sing a Michael Jackson classic. It's a nice song and all, but it's incredibly difficult. Not just for the guitar, but for everyone singing as well. You try singing like Michael Jackson when he was a wee one, with all those voice riffs. Tell me how you go!

I hate pigeons. I really do. They're vile and disgusting. They are like rats. Along with seagulls. Seagulls are flying rats. They literally pick the food out of your hands. Pigeons, on the other hand, just fly up to your window and coo their little pea-brains away. Really, don't they have something better to do like build a nest or feed their other pea-brain youngins' or collect twigs?

My arm muscles creep my out. My biceps, I think they are called. They've gotten larger. My pale arms look crazy, like this skinny friend of mine back home in KL. She's as skinny as a satay stick, yet she has muscles the size of a guinea pig. Satay stick + guinea pig lumps = monstrous in an awesome way.

Then again, I never liked maths. My mind was not tailored to solve stupid equations and draw bloody quadratic graphs.

Sydney's good, by the way. The weather is getting better as the weeks fly by. It's getting cooler and cooler, and there's less rain. Summer is coming to it's end, and I can't wait. I'm quite psyched about going home in roughly a month's time. I can't wait to get back on the computer for hours on end, downloading Lost Season 2 and Desperate Housewives Season 2 episodes. I'm so psyched out about getting back and getting my birthday present from dad, which I haven't got yet. I've got Playstation 2 Slim on my mind, right now. This is my opportunity to redeem myself. The old gaming conscience is coming back, and she's wants to kick ass on a Playstation, not an Xbox. I mean, if my sister doesn't want to share her bloody Playstation, I might as well get myself one - an even cooler one - the slim!

Mum's in Canberra. Apparently she's been partying since the day she got there. What a lucky thing. I wish I could party, eat and drink. It sounds so fun.

I want a shower now. My Coke Zero is finishing. I'm taking the last gulp and off I go to have a shower.

Cheers.
PS. Today, I received the nicest comment from someone I have never met before, and only met briefly. "It's amazing. Your English is just... flawless."
PPS. Drop me a line, guys. Really. I'd love to hear from anyone. You don't have to say much, and I promise I'll reply. PURRRR-ROM-ISS!

Scrap the DVD Player idea for a birthday present. I'd love a PS2 Slim! :D


Good God of Gaming
Oh how I love you.

Cheers.

Gomenasai! I have not been a very active blogger lately, and I apologise for that! I'd been so busy with work and the preparations for this weekend, that I hadn't had the time to blog.

Yesterday, the 4th of March was our school's 150th birthday, and there were huge celebrations to mark it's sesquicentenary year of education. Besides leaving the day feeling extremely knackered, I was amazed at how many old girls there were - and I do mean old girls. There were women from as early as the 1940s, who were touring the boarding house. It was incredible to take them around and show them the place. They were amazed at how all dorms had airconditioning in them, and curtains to give every individual girl their own privacy. Just listening to all of them speak amongst themselves about the experiences they've had and how they felt about the whole school was priceless.

There was this group of ladies, who knew each other from the late 1970s, and they showed us pictures of them back in the 70s at St Caths. They were all boarders too, and they told us about them hiding in the Year 10/11 toilets (which is where I go to) smoking, and them climbing out of the windows and onto the roof to sleep. Many women were just shocked at how relaxed and home-like the boarding house has become.

I tried to imagine what it would be like in 50 years time, when I come back to St Catherine's for the 200th anniversary. It'd be incredible. I would definately come back to relive the memories. It would be like, hey, I slept in this dorm or hey remember the time I got chicken pox and had to stay in this little room. Let's hope I'm still alive at that time.

Besides all those priceless moments within the boarding house, I played my guitar for the jazz band on stage before the NSW Governor, Marie Bashir, arrived. Apparently, she's pretty damn big in this country.

I'm playing music, yet again, this afternoon at the Cathedral Service at St Andrew's Cathedral in the city. It's like chapel, only it involves the whole school. It is as if, music is all that runs through my life and blood now. Everything I do, think about or say is about music. Musicmusicmusic!

Oh I must tell you about my 12 day week! You see, last week I started school on Monday, like always. I won't get a proper weekend till next Friday. That's right. This weekend is a busy one, with celebrations on both days. And I'm involved in them. Oh poo. Tomorrow, Monday, is supposed to be a NO SCHOOL DAY, but TAFE courses still run. All TAFE students won't have tomorrow off because of TAFE. Firetruckin' TAFE! The following day is a school day. Hence, my 12 day week!

I've got heaps of assessments due in the next two weeks, and I'm not particularly excited about it. I need to get into the mood. Sigh.

Cheers.