the end of a week

Well, it's a Friday all over again...

The haze has improved, thank God for that. I wouldn't want to be breathing in any more of that shit any more than I have to. It's killing me. I realise that the air was so bad my lungs turned black. Like my face.

Oh and my new haircut drew much attention to me. Lots of it. Wait, let's just say, my whole class. I mean, the first person I saw today was Elisha. I stepped out of the lift and the FIRST THING SHE DID was to stare at my hair. Yikes. And then along came the rest. And the rest, they say, is history.

Soccer today was tough luck. The worst thing I did was to let in the last ball. AND THE BALL WAS ROLLING TOWARDS ME, at a top speed of, oh, 5m/hour? I couldn't believe I let it slip through my fingers. Literally. Blow me. What a crock of shit.

And Dil - sorry, GIL - bert just finished his Malayan paper today. Apparently was frickin' easy and not that tough as everyone thought it would be. Considering he was freaking out the night before, it ain't bad. And hearing that, I'm starting to feel nostalgic, because I feel like returning to the old days, where everything was so carefree. Looking back, I realise I have actually taken all in secondary school for granted. Teachers feeding us all they had for exams, working their butts off for us. I really realise how lucky I am to have come from Catholic High. 10 years in that school, and I really feel that it has become a part of me. I am sure many old boys will recall the old days fondly. Especially my class. Even though my group of friends and I weren't exactly relishing in the class spirit, I am most fond of the memories we had. Buying food and stashing it in our lockers, going to play LAN 2 weeks before O levels and not caring whether we passed (sorry Mum) and generally being the class the discipline committee loved to hate. But I swear, looking back now, I love every minute of it.

And I will never trade those memories in. Not even for the world.