Before we all get scandalized with the title and jump to not-so-innocent conclusions, let me tell you that it's not what you think it is, well, most likely anyway.
First day of school (second semester) is really something I'm not used to attending. It didn't consist of kids bringing dozens of notebooks all neatly covered and branded with the owner's name. It didn't consist of well-ironed uniforms (mostly because we aren't even supposed to wear one). Lastly, it didn't have over-enthusiastic teachers looking and acting their best to either impress or intimidate. In fact, there are no teachers appearing at all.
Save for Sir Chua, my first day was spent lounging in the corridors talking about “serious” girl talk matters and condoms.
Do I have to itemize?
Hmmm, for the sake of passing time (I'm writing this while waiting for my first period which will begin thirty minutes later), maybe I will.
First day first period was the only time something happened, academically speaking that is. It was also the only thing that tried (and failed) to bring me back to Scholarly Mode. Apparently, an hour of talking about the syllabus and expectations and supposedly schedule for the semester wasn't strong enough to jolt me out of limbo; especially when one of your blockmate brought a condom just for kicks.
The class was supposed to consume two hours but for some reasons I'm sure he mentioned but I failed to hear, he dismissed us an hour earlier. The next periods were spent doing the following (in sequence):
-assemble at the corridor
-swap and ask about schedules [who's with who, what lab are you, what's your letter pattern, etc.]
-wait for the instructor/professor
-wait...
-and wait...
-once a third of the period has passed, wait for ten more minutes
-leave
All in all, we were left with a whooping six hours of idleness. Joy, not. Well, not 100% anyway. We got to catch up with each other and avoid being pictured with a condom included in the shot.
Uh-huh.
[End notebook draft here. The following are spontaneously typed in Blogger.]
It's utterly energy draining to wait for that length of time. I honestly felt more tired that day than any other hectic day during the last semester. Never had I felt more frustrated, too. My mind and body had unconsciously braced themselves for the expected onslaught of homework loads and nose-bleeding lessons. So when all preparations went down the drain, mind and body tuned in on anything it can tune in to, like our in-depth discussion of our block mates's sexual orientations.
In other words, girl talk. Serious girl talk.
It's amusing really to find other people who harbors the same suspicions you have. Amusing and somewhat creepy. I know my imagination tends to go over the edge, so I'm not exactly placing some credibility on my opinions. There's always this nagging feeling that 'Hey, chill. You're over reacting. Maybe there's more behind it than what meets the eye” and all that gig. So, it's not actually that comforting to know that others shared the same train of thoughts.
Besides, who cares if they're gay? I don't mind them. As a matter of fact, I have yet to find a gay who's irritating to be with.
[thinking mode]
On a second thought, there are. It just so happens that I'm not closely acquainted with them so I don't exactly have a say in it.
Anyway.
What I'm more frustrated about is that all those idle times create wonders for someone who talks to herself inside her head. Ideas are born every three seconds. During those times, I have already conjured ten scenes for my NaNoWriMo piece. And unfortunately, by the time I got home, only two remained intact in my brain web. It made me want to scream and/or tear my hair out for not being able to preserve those thoughts in black and white. What about a notebook, you say? Or any piece of paper to write the draft on? Ha, been there done that. In fact, I have written my drafts in my notebook. But hey, leave it stagnant and incomplete for several hours and my brain will most likely be unable to recall what have I been thinking when I wrote that. So, in other words, I can no longer relate to what I have written. In shorter words, it's as good as trash.
That's one of the main reasons why I desperately need a laptop. Or at least a voice recorder with a built-in mic (or maybe mic-capable, is there such a term?). At least I can record my thoughts fresh. The first school week will officially end tomorrow (I still have a Saturday class). I sincerely hope we'll have class tomorrow. I'll only go to school for a single subject and I'll be really damned if my efforts will be for naught.
