Or otherwise. Exams are here. Gone are the days when all it meant to me was that holidays were close as well. Here at NUS High, I’ve actually got to work hard for grades I once took for granted, grades I had once scoffed at. And the study process is not less excruciating in the least.
Spasmodic drilling in the background breaks a serenity that I can only imagine to be existent. It’s a boring life. Coffee wakes me up at four. The only glossy pages I pore over are college textbooks I regret paying fifty dollars apiece for (I’ll sell them on Facebook for say 25 when they fall into disuse). When I boot my computer, it’s for the periodic monitoring of my Gmail and Facebook account. Occasionally the curious thirst for entertainment has to quench itself with a Bushism or two taken with a short outburst of laughter followed by a return to the Golgi apparatus or the next concept that I’ll recall to be redundant ten years from now.
I’ve been doing a copious amount of memory work for the past two to three days, concentrating solely on Molecular Genetics. And it’s starting to get on my nerves. Literally. Last night I sat up for an hour or so with DNA helicases and whatnot zipping around my head. And I fell asleep thinking. I’ve still got my essay on euthanasia to do up.
