There is only one time every month, without fail, I wish I wasn't born female. Bleeding ovaries. Pun intended. I feel so bloated, so UGH. Just shoot me already.
And think about it. I've gone through this shit 1 week for every month, for about, four years and I'm already complaining. It just occured to me that I, like all other women, will be going through the same crap for about 7 days out of every month for the next 40-50 years of my life.
OH MY GOD.
And that does not include PMS. And if you start talking about equal rights, the first thing guys'll say is to make women serve national service. Try fucking bleeding for more than 5 000 days of your life. And yeah, I did the math.
But hey, I'm alright with being a woman. Come to think of it, I'm contented with being a woman. Not contented with perceptions and disciplines that comes with feminity. Just happy being a woman. Especially when I get to go on my "fuck patriarchy" warpath. Or when men acknowledge the fact that I'm one woman they cannot mess with. Hah.
Moving on, it's barely week 3 and school's already robbing me of my sanity. Then again, what sanity? I think FMS's admin's really stupid. We are a fast-paced, on-the-go buncha people. You do not put two theoretical and ridiculously dry 2hr lectures back-to-back from 8am till noon. It's just insane. It kills me that I struggle to stay awake and I really really can't. Not only because of the fact that I barely slepr for two hours the previous night, it's very theory-based AND the lecturers are ridiculously personality-less.
While looking for ads for an ad analysis we have to do, I just realised the quality of most ads in SG is ridiculous. I mean, sure, I've noticed it before, but it really didn't occur to me it was this bad, you know?
Oh boy.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder? Sure it does. I'm still depressed over the fact that they reshuffled the classes, but I've begin to accept the fact that I won't be able to work with the people I love. At least not this year. Just the things they do, you know... Mainee's palm reading fixtation, V's dance, Jesse's late gear, yadda yadda yadda. The people that make Tuesdays bearable. It's just those lil things that make you smile, knowing that no matter where they are and whatever they're doing, the people you love most never seem to change and that they still do love you too.
I have to get at least an A for radio this sem. I'm pretty okay with scripting, bloody smooth with presentation, it's just pro-tools that's cramping my style. Pfuit. After this magazine programme is over(which, thank God, I'm doing with james), it'll be entirely individual work AND on top of that we'll be learning how to use the dalet thinggamajig, so it's cool. I'll go master the dalet, baybee. At least I'll try.
There's already a media research test last week and a newswriting test this week. Boy, do I suck at writing leads. Mine sound like what you'd read in tabliods. I think I'd make good money starting a tabliod paper. A true tabloid paper no newpaper shit. And I'll employ all the too-sensational-to-make-it-to-straits-times writers and gossip queens (and kings. sheesh.) Hah. With me in the house, we'll see who's best. Newpaper- Singapore's best tabloid, my ass lah.
I've been bitching alot lately. Alot. But it's an external locus of control, really. At least, technically.
Advertising & Radio tomorrow. Still praying for ITP at a radio station. Otherwise, I wouldn't know what to do and God knows I'm far too good to be thrown into some fuckass job at a town council or some crap like that.
Oh, well. Just Keep Praying.
posted by Fuzzy @ 23:49