I had the chem test today. I was forced to use an old calculator which didn’t have any notes on it instead of my usual one. When browsing through it, I found a note. "Meep". With every calculator I have, I create a note titled Meep and write my thoughts during maths instead of working. It’s all in another language of course, but below is the rough translation. Be warned: Emo-factor of 9/10!
The world is doomed, were all going to die!
[joke of mine, long story, year 8 depression.]
I need either chocolate or a knife. There are seven billion people in this wolrld. Whe does my life matter…
[Bwuhahaha, so depressed.]
There is no checklist of life, no goal of friendship or reward for love. In the same sense, there is no single answer of life.
[I had just asked Mueller the meaning of life, it seemed.]
Wake me up, when November ends.
[This indicates all the above were written at the end of October, I think.]
Nine days to go.
[Ah yes, I remember. Counting down to Singapore. Written in November, then.]
The day after tomorrow, all hell freezes over.
Under solve aplet: I love you Ivy. [definitely last year, then]
Under function aplet: I really, really miss you Ivy.
In other news! My Performing Arts Festival was on Tuesday. My solo piece- the Butterfly- was crap. I thought I did well, but the adjudicator clearly didn’t. My duet with Perry on the other hand… Ho ho ho, who’s laughing now, biznatch? Bwuhaha. To make it easy on you, I’ll turn scores into numbers.
Outstanding = 5
Excellent = 4
Very Good = 3
Good = 2
Fair = 1
2, 2, 2, 4, 2, 1, 1, 2, 3.
19/45 = 42.2%
4, 4, 4, 5, 4, 4, 4, 5, 5.
39/45 = 86.6%
I showed Slawomirsky the certificates and she was amazed.
"I didn’t think you would do so well!"
"Are you saying you thought we’d do badly?"
"I said ‘I will not take responsibility for this piece.’" She laughed. ‘Bet you’re sorry now. HA!’ I thought. Too late, Slawo. You can’t eat the bread without helping make it. She’s nice though- she gave me a ride to the cat stop.
Don Giovanni: My hero.
Do you know why? This guy is the playa of playas- a pimp amongst pimps.
Don Juan: Leave me alone woman!
Donna Anna: I shall never let you go until I’m dead!
Don Juan: Leparello, show her the book.
Leparello: *reads* 640 women in Italy, 230 women in France, 100 women in Germany, 90 woman in Persia,[European country], and greatest of all… 1003 women in Spain. All sorts of women! Nice little country girls, chambermaids, baronesses, princesses… Fat ones in winter, nice ones in spring, of every size, of every shape, of every age. And his favourite? The young beginners. Well, you know what he does best.
Donna Anna: … You [CENSORED]! Rant rant rant, bitch bitch bitch, nag nag nag, whine whine whine.
Don Giovanni: Can it, bitch. You ain’t nothin’ but another slut to me, and yo daddy ain’t here to save you now.
Leparello: Ohh how I wish I were you, master.
[psst. for those of you who don’t get it, Don Giovanni is an opera by Mozart, and that aristocrat is legendary. 2063 women! That’s more than any man could ever hope for, but I’ll hand it to you- the guy does travel. It’s alleged he has a fetish for spanish midgets. isn’t it so wonderfully degrading?]
If I were shot, what would I do? Probably the same thing as if I were elbowed in the face. I would stop thinking, paralyzed with shock. Maybe swear. It’s more likely I’d say,
"Oh!" as I looked at the blood flowing from the wound I’d cover it with a hand, stare at my ruby fingers and be awed by my mortality. Perhaps after that I would have time to be angry at my murderer, or exclaim how much it hurts. I’d feel very sorry for my living friends.
My how sad you look. Have some chocolate, you silly earthling. *hugs tight and offers you a cadbury delicacy*
EDIT: Sorry, it was a poor erratum. It originally read "European country", and then today I discovered it was Persia. I forgot to delete the former.