well, in the morning received the news that i my hist techer didn't come to sch again, again, yeah, she always dun come one, she's my civics tutor. And i juz felt quite weird, one more free period, which does not make much diff since im enjoying more than 10 periods of free periods per wk. and hist is basically a self reading sub. and...i think im properbably gg to end up taking this sub's exam without attending more than half of the lessons...sigh...this is NJ, arts students are totally ignored man, do i really look invisible?
so had lit lecture later, to my surprise, a singaporean tcher came in, i always think that singaporean tchers cant make it for it, their sub-standard english really cant teach a sub that requires such a profound understanding of the english language (like lit), anyway, she really cant make it, she conducts lit lecture in the same way as hist! ultra boring, so dull and she peaks in monotone! no stress and unstress! cant be compared to whitby, i wont mind if mr low pulls her to DHS. Well, today we started a bit on "Murder in the Cathedral", a drama, again related to christianity, i really think i shld seriously consider taking up christianity to help in my subs like lit and art hist, so much abt Christ and the bible stories la, i shld begin by buying a bible tmr!
And my is
Well, yesterday i announced to the art class that im officially over mr lee liao, but im not yet actually, cos u cant immediately 4get abt a person or have no feeling for him right? it takes time, anyway,at least im no longer illuntioned. Heard that he's damn popular, many, really many ppl like him, who am i to go after him?? haha, i looked to myself too up alr. eventually i'll end up no where man...oh no!stop thinking of him again! i shld be working on whitby's poem now!
Property! Property! Let us extend
Soul and body without end:
A box to live in, with airs and graces,
A box on wheels that shows its paces,
A box that talks or that makes faces,
And curtains and fences as good as the neighbours’
To keep out the neighbours and keep us immured
Enjoying the cold canned fruit of our labours
In a sterilized cell, unshared, insured
Property! Property! When will it end
When will the Poltergeist ascend
Out of the sewer with chopper and squib
To burn the mink and the baby’s bib
And cut the tattling wire to town
And smash all the plastics, clowning and clouting
And stop all the boxes shouting and pouting
And wreck the house from the aerial down
And give these ingrown souls and outing?
(can anyone help me to make some sense out of it? seriously i think all poets are psycho! only to make our lives difficult!)
