rage.
horrid day. bad start to it with oversleeping... SO BLOODY SICK OF MY TIME WASTAGE!!! argh!!! Why cant i ever follow my own schedules? Everything pushed back, as a result cant do everything i wanna. bleah.
Went for training, reached just in time. BAD SHOOTING. Nearly lost an arrows. VERY painful shooting experience, ironically ended by the same horrid rain that i hate. for once, the rain is appreciated.
Reached home, tired, brained dead, then was told to move into my hall. Glad for the help, unhappy with the need to be told what and when to do. I mean, HELLO, I plan my own time, cos I actually am the one living my life, yes? Have a feeling the enthusiaism stems from mistrust that i might be harbouring some gal in my room. I mean, PLS. IF I wanna, I will tell you. And seriously, "help" was more like just drivining me there, and telling me how dirty the room is. Like I cant do it myself? bleah.
No pt for guessing - wartime!
case details in brief:
Plaintiff (me): Why dun u TELL ME what I need to do, and let ME decide when I wanna do it, instead of telling LAST MIN, and claim its MY fault that I dun factor time to do it.
Defendent (mum): You never do what u promised to do!(what promise? never stated. Do what? never made clear. Am I to read her mind?). You must do what u must, and NOT flare up if I call u unfilial, whine that you dun do things according to my wishes, at my time... (what, thought you gave birth to a puppet?Please. I am NOT still 12 u noe.)
PS: If anyone dare pt out why is it that the roles of plaintiff and defendant seems switched. Let me kindly inform you, that in the mind of all suffering from white hot, searing, mind consuming rage, that THEY are always the plaintiff, the victim, on the right side of justice.
Bleah.
Mitigation: she not having enuff sleep... blah blah.
Conclusion: Issue glossed over. I have a SICK feeling that all is NOT forgotten, and the damages will resurface in some other form. probably another tirade over something else. damn.
like such things ALWAYS get compounded, and grow till it bursts.
Dictum: Mum is still Mum. Her right to scold and nag arises when I get my right to be born, so i guess i can never maintain the rage. even now, i feel it sheathed in its dark velvet scabbard, its edge hidden under the facade of nonchalance, and its heat resolved by reason.
Anyway, reached home after a supper stop-over. Leftover rage nicely contained. But it met his good fren, Stress. Stress is evil, insidious, and damn good at camouflaging. Jumped at me RIGHT after Rage left the building, and start reminding me how I have like 300 pgs of materials to read before class starts. Nice sis HAD to choose that time to use my laptop to do her stuff.
NM. I am nice, so i let her. But she is SO irritatingly incompetent at whatever she had to do (google some doc, then send an email?), that I HAD to help. means cant do work. means Stress gets to crow a fair bit. Means Rage comes back again and shakes hands with her. They did more than shake hands, and gave birth to Sarcarsm, which I use on sis. useless on sis, cos she is busy watching TV WHILE supposedly doing legit work on my laptop. Who says gals can multitask? I got sick of this, and unleash the happy family of negative emotions on poor sis (she deserve pity only on retropect. at that pt of time, she is one big fat irritating blot on the face of this earth.). Argh.
Grand Conclusion? here I am, in my room, with 2 unhappy females outside. Attempts to do work fails, so will just give up. Tomorrow is another day. BUT, tomorrow starts with monthly trials... and with the kind of score that I hve now... the flag i wear on my sleeves seems more like a mockery than honour. Argh. And I still have to move 15 other articles to my room. tomorrow will be a better day - things just cant get worse.
Went for training, reached just in time. BAD SHOOTING. Nearly lost an arrows. VERY painful shooting experience, ironically ended by the same horrid rain that i hate. for once, the rain is appreciated.
Reached home, tired, brained dead, then was told to move into my hall. Glad for the help, unhappy with the need to be told what and when to do. I mean, HELLO, I plan my own time, cos I actually am the one living my life, yes? Have a feeling the enthusiaism stems from mistrust that i might be harbouring some gal in my room. I mean, PLS. IF I wanna, I will tell you. And seriously, "help" was more like just drivining me there, and telling me how dirty the room is. Like I cant do it myself? bleah.
No pt for guessing - wartime!
case details in brief:
Plaintiff (me): Why dun u TELL ME what I need to do, and let ME decide when I wanna do it, instead of telling LAST MIN, and claim its MY fault that I dun factor time to do it.
Defendent (mum): You never do what u promised to do!(what promise? never stated. Do what? never made clear. Am I to read her mind?). You must do what u must, and NOT flare up if I call u unfilial, whine that you dun do things according to my wishes, at my time... (what, thought you gave birth to a puppet?Please. I am NOT still 12 u noe.)
PS: If anyone dare pt out why is it that the roles of plaintiff and defendant seems switched. Let me kindly inform you, that in the mind of all suffering from white hot, searing, mind consuming rage, that THEY are always the plaintiff, the victim, on the right side of justice.
Bleah.
Mitigation: she not having enuff sleep... blah blah.
Conclusion: Issue glossed over. I have a SICK feeling that all is NOT forgotten, and the damages will resurface in some other form. probably another tirade over something else. damn.
like such things ALWAYS get compounded, and grow till it bursts.
Dictum: Mum is still Mum. Her right to scold and nag arises when I get my right to be born, so i guess i can never maintain the rage. even now, i feel it sheathed in its dark velvet scabbard, its edge hidden under the facade of nonchalance, and its heat resolved by reason.
Anyway, reached home after a supper stop-over. Leftover rage nicely contained. But it met his good fren, Stress. Stress is evil, insidious, and damn good at camouflaging. Jumped at me RIGHT after Rage left the building, and start reminding me how I have like 300 pgs of materials to read before class starts. Nice sis HAD to choose that time to use my laptop to do her stuff.
NM. I am nice, so i let her. But she is SO irritatingly incompetent at whatever she had to do (google some doc, then send an email?), that I HAD to help. means cant do work. means Stress gets to crow a fair bit. Means Rage comes back again and shakes hands with her. They did more than shake hands, and gave birth to Sarcarsm, which I use on sis. useless on sis, cos she is busy watching TV WHILE supposedly doing legit work on my laptop. Who says gals can multitask? I got sick of this, and unleash the happy family of negative emotions on poor sis (she deserve pity only on retropect. at that pt of time, she is one big fat irritating blot on the face of this earth.). Argh.
Grand Conclusion? here I am, in my room, with 2 unhappy females outside. Attempts to do work fails, so will just give up. Tomorrow is another day. BUT, tomorrow starts with monthly trials... and with the kind of score that I hve now... the flag i wear on my sleeves seems more like a mockery than honour. Argh. And I still have to move 15 other articles to my room. tomorrow will be a better day - things just cant get worse.
posted by Zachary Shim | 11:36 pm
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