Wednesday, January 28, 2004
- haiz i'm aching all over again. today's pe was bloody hell xiong loh... my shoulders ache, my back aches, hell evem my legs ache. and everyone online is panicking me abt the chem work. man my chem sucks.... i simply don't understand most of the stuff... hell i shld have gone for pure chem! but then i'd have missed out on bio...
doing lit has really got me thinking. like when dio asked, what do you want to do with your life? like hui said, i'm in jc cos i want to go on to get university education, and then maybe further my education. everyone noes that a BSc is worth what? nothing? and masters' holders are just lab assts. or sth like that. and the more i scrutinize my life it seems as if one day is indistinguishable from the next, and the next from the day after that. it seems pathetic and useless to carry on, to try so hard to beat the rest in the rat race and then to fail miserably anyway when your life ends, 'cause what have you done that is so beneficial that it keeps you alive to enjoy the fruit of your labour? for that matter, when do you start living? not working to better tomorrow if it comes. the most we can say is if we live to see tomorrow, then we will do such and such, to paraphrase last weeks reading. it's so dismal! what are we working for? heck what are we living for? what does tomorrow hold - if we live to see it?
okay enough of my own musing. on a lighter note, today the guys crashed dio's lit lecture. it's bloody f*cking crap! sorry no other words for it! i was unfortunately situated in front of pradz and favian... no offence guys but when one is copying frantically diction words that will be examinable it ain't funny to hear lame jokes accompanied by the frequent jostling of the damn lecture chair... my hand kept shaking... yeah well it's over and dio's lectures are always enjoyable anw. fortunately not champagne's... it's quite torturous when she takes diction class... well it's over n there're no more lit anything till next week. sighs.
there's this lit poem which struck me. it left an indelible mark on me 'cause it's so unforgettable.
'Out, out-'
The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
Five mountain ranges one behind the other
Under the sunset far into Vermont.
And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
And nothing happened: day was all but done.
Call it a day, I wish they might have said
To please the boy by giving him the half hour
That a boy counts so much when saved from work.
His sister stood beside them in apron
To tell them 'Supper'. At the word, the saw,
As if to prove saws knew what supper meant,
Leapt out at the boy's hand, or seemed to leap-
He must have given the hand. However it was,
Neither refused the meeting. But the hand!
The boy's first outcry was a rueful laugh,
As he swung toward them holding up the hand,
Half in appeal, but half as if to keep
The life from spilling. Then the boy saw all-
Since he was old enough to know, big boy
Doing a man's work, though a child at heart-
He saw all spoiled. 'Don't let them cut my hand off-
The doctor, when he comes. Don't let him, sister!'
So. But the hand was gone already.
The doctor put him in the dark of ether.
He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.
And then - the watcher at his pulse took fright.
No one believed. They listened at his heart.
Little - less - nothing! - and that ended it.
No more to build on there. And they, since they
Were not the one dead, turned to their own affairs
Robert Frost
slash with the pen |||
9:17:00 pm
