Dear Belated Mother;

by Squido~

Usually, when your daughter locks herself in her room, it is not an invitation to open the door with a key and come in,

Love,

Iron Stomach.

but it tastes good

by bezzle

It’s ten thirty, my eyes are swollen, I have no motivation to do anything constructive and hence all I want to do is eat.  Yeah, I probably am one of those comfort eaters.

I hate this feeling of knowing I have a bajillion things to do and another two bajillion things I could practise/study ahead for, and yet I somehow get away with doing very little.

Well, ag is over.  TT.TT I’ll miss you, 11AG1.  We may not have shared many classes nor been close friends at the start, but I thought our class was special (and not just because there was only five of us) and it was great studying with you all :’)  Also, thanks to our fantabulous teacher  \(^ . ^ )/

I always have these ideas for some long posts about various weeaboo things that no one really cares about (note: I’ve added a new category – weeaboo) but maybe I’ll actually verbalise and post them one day.

incidentally, a talk with a stranger

by bezzle

Today at the bus stop I had a lovely chat with a bearded dude called Cameron (here’s a shout out he’ll never read), and it really put my -school- life into a new perspective.

It started when he asked me the time, as his bus was due any moment.  Conversation then moved onto school and career paths – I think he’s twenty-two or so (he said he was in year 11 five years ago), and is an engineering student at TAFE.

I swear, it is so hard to judge a bearded man’s age.  I was scared of offending him by asking if he remembered school, but Cameron didn’t seem to notice.  *phew*  Also, his beard is quite thick, and has taken him a month and a half (with a bit of trimming).  I wonder if his is a conversation-starter.

Conversation was kind of jerky between us, but not awkward, and he was a very friendly guy.  We ended up talking about totally random topics, like you would with friends.  While we were talking about school and subjects and what could have been for him, he mentioned his maths/english mark.  I think, from an average highschooler’s point of view, it was more than respectable – but not a number you’d hear of at our school.  And here’s the thing, he had no idea about our school’s reputation (he thought I was from Cumbo, originally…) so it was really liberating to talk about school and study to him.  Especially about what happens after school, and moving out and stuff.  The notion of uni not being mandatory after high school is quite alien to me.

My bus ended up being more than 15 minutes late, and he just caught it rather than wait for his own.

And to top it all off, he said ‘toodles‘ when he got off the bus.  TOODLES.

Wow, there already exists the tag ‘random encounters with strangers’.  How handy.

 

sydo? dodo? hi.

by Squido~

i just wanted to say that more and more people refer to me now as sydo. below are some of the most recent and notable:

–> mr yeo
–> mrs mayers

actually correction. mr yeo called me squido.

it’s only a matter of time before they start calling me dodo.

The way I dress is not the product of my sexuality; it’s the product of the culture I grew up in.

by cloudier

I’m not saying that the culture I grew up in is perfect. Its fascination with skin and bones has led to the death of many people, and it’s a culture that propagates the idea that if you dress in a certain way, you are promiscuous.

It’s disgusting how the staff at our school are shaming the people around them into dressing in a way they feel conforms with the whims of the ignorant and the bigots of our society.