Study why?

I find when I study I try to cram everything into tiny words into as little sheets of paper as possible. I have discovered that I am not the only one that does it, my boyfriend does it too (*manic wave!! (if he happens to read this)*) with even more tiny handwriting than myself, cramming whole lectures into a few lines.

But I seem to write out every single sentence, which gets very frustrating knowing I probably did not need those sentences, such as “this isn’t important but sometimes grass has insects”. But what if I needed those sentences? O.o What if those sentences where deliberately there to fool you into thinking you didn’t need it and when I entered the exam room I would be unprepared because I didn’t know what grass had sometimes?

Thus because of this giant “IF” I unwillingly cram everything onto the sheets. Recently my words have got a little bigger because there is too much to study and because I get bored fast and as a consequence I happen to write faster wanting to finish. Subsequently my words become illegible and I don’t know what I’m writing.

To solve these futile efforts, I try to stop myself when I can’t think about what I’m writing, a short break to refresh. A short break becomes half an hour. Half an hour becomes ten minutes. And then I find I’ve been wasting time watching random things on YouTube like Misha the cute talking dog for hours. Stupid cute dogs who think they can talk. And the kung fu bear – which admittedly is pretty darn awesome. Or watching an increasing amount of anime like Avatar (not the stupid blue things but the awesome guy with an arrow on his forehead. Stupid blue things).

Hours become a whole wasted day of seemingly doing nothing, which causes much panic and the determination to try better tomorrow. Tomorrow comes and it’s back to the stupid talking dogs and cute kittens trying to jump of table tops. Hehehe. Kittens.

Later on I decided on a shortening my sentences to grammatically incorrect ones, to make up for the amounts of sentences I suddenly deem important. For instance when a question asks:

“Why would protease inhibitors increase demand for sulphur amino acid and sometimes lead to pancreatic hypertrophy?”

My converted question would be punctuated with symbols and misguided grammar:

Protease inhibit. ^ sulphur aa and then pancreatic hypertrophy why?

Whenever I read why at the end of a sentence I picture myself as a little confused child asking why at the end of every sentence. The kind of extended “why’s” that seem to last forever. Cannot eat glue why? Train why? Need to go potty whhhhyyyyy? YELLING AT ME WHYYYY?

And then I ask myself should I even be studying if all I’m going to do is procrastinate? Screw studying, maybe I should just give in to the needs for watching endless YouTube films and pretending I’m a dinosaur-space-monkey who needs to chew off peoples ears. Maybe I don’t need anything. Happiness is what you make of it. Then I look at the time and decided I should go to bed and wake up realising it’s another day closer to exams and I’ve done jack. Panic ensues. Then I cram.

Stick People

It always bothered my young and troubled mind that stick people had no clothing whatsoever. Did they choose this life of no clothes? Was wearing clothing too troublesome for the stick people? Were the stick people community so poor that they cannot afford anything to wear?

Maybe they don’t want to have any clothing on and want to walk around as they do. Call it freedom of action if you will. But most likely the megligent masses were too lazy to draw clothing on for them. Not like I can complain mind you, till I was around 6 my stick people didn’t have any bodies:

My older brother’s stick people had bodies and being the delightful little child I was, I didn’t want to copy him. I mean sure they were anatomically incorrect, but the point is my four year old self knew that plagiarism was wrong and on occasion punishable by complaints to the parent people.

Later on I wondered how would you know which was male or female? You could label them, but how would you ever truly know?

To solve both issues of gender and nudity, my 6 year old self decided that they should wear clothing. The girls would all have skirts and the guys would all have trousers.

And then came the problem that the stick people’s hands and feet stuck out in a weird linear way, thus came the shoes. Sometimes if I was adventurous, came gloves, but this was not very often, because it just looked like they purchased oversized shirts.

After that came the issue of a lack of hair. Why didn’t they have any hair? So long hair for girls and short hair for boys it was.

Then of course came the question of faces, and at that point, since I suck at drawing faces, I would leave it blank on the knowledge that the undrawn face had potential to be anyone’s face and that’s why they wouldn’t have any. Imagination. A powerful tool.

A morning in the life of a Jill

This morning had me waking up a few minutes before my alarm. Typical. I got up and after the daily morning routine I headed out to walk to church. Before leaving I went to say bye to my uncle, who happened to be running on the spot in front of the TV, to Formula One racing.

Frolicking out the door and to the roads, I came to realise that I had forgotten how to escape the maze. Undeterred I got out my phone where I hid instructions. Instructions which directed me uphill onto unfamiliar terrain. Unsure of what to do, I walked up the hill determined, then down the hill unsure, then up the hill again, and then slowly back down. After much deliberation and deciding I’ve already wasted time I ran up the hill and discovered that it was indeed where I needed to be.

When I finally made it to church I discovered I was 15 minutes early which surprised me after my little hill troubled episode. I acquired a seat near the back. In front of me sat what I believe to be a Pilipino family. With them they had a little girl who for some reason could not stop staring at me. Not like I blame her, I’ve never seen anyone that looks like me either. So I waved, and she waved back. A little while later I realized I was daydreaming into the back of her head, whereas she was studying me with confusion. I quickly turned away and thought, oh crap now I look like I stalk little kids.

In this church the little ones are sent away during the readings to be creative and stuff. Because it was Palm Sunday, they made little palm crosses. When the priest asked what they were for, none of the kids could answer.

While walking home I took a wrong turn into an enclosure filed with people doing who knows what outside. Not wanting to turn back and face the walk of shame, I kept on walking into what I saw as a pathway that looked like it led out of there. Thank goodness it was, and I managed to find the right path back home.

On that path though there was a boy and girl who were sitting on their front lawn with what looked like a toy machine gun, equipped with bullet chain. They seemed to be on a mission to shot passerbies and cars. Being one of those (guess which one?) I was shot at, to which I held up my hands and yelled for surrender and dramatically died, all the while managing to walk pass. The remainder of the road I walked with the soundtrack of childish machine gun fire and cries of “plane!”

Finally after climbing hills and travelling along roads, I found a black kitty to which I had to stop every urge to run to screaming “KITTTYYY!” Unfortunately the house I found the kitty in was 2 doors down from my current abode of residence, and I wasn’t sure my aunt and uncle would be happy if I accosted the neighbour’s cat.

So eventful morning? Well, you decided.

Dandelion Destruction

With the coming of spring comes the coming of the gardening season. My aunt decided that the lawn needed mowing, and like any guilty freeloader I volunteered to aid. I was given the menial task of weeding the surrounding area. My aunt decided that we should start at the front garden and I was to dig out the invasion that was the dandelions. I wondered why anyone would want to destroy these flowers, they looked very nice to me, but who was I to judge? I was told to lay on the devestation, and thus I did.

Joining me in the cause was Comrade Weeding Tool. Together we made a brutal force, searching around for the dandelion scum, digging right into the root of the problem. Some of them were crafty, disguising themselves as pretty flowers or sometimes even grass. But we managed to root them out, and bringing an end their reign of terror.

Once we found a giant monster flower which we hacked and hacked at until it was destroyed. We tried to root out its master, but unfortunately it managed to espace deep into its little hole, hidden to strike again another day.

Unfortunately like all conflicts there were casualties, with the uprooting of things I wasn’t sure were weeds. I found that the Supreme Commander mowed over pretty flowers that I was going to take pictures off. So upon finding more pretty flowers, I plucked them out and hidden them away, refugees from a dark war. Later I asked if they were to be destroyed and she said no. Darsh. I killed innocents for nothing. Thus is war.

But I decided I needed my camera before more innocents were to be destroyed. Under the guise of going to blow my nose I ran to my room for my camera, which ceased to work upon trying to take the first picture. Greatly upset Comrade Weeding Tool turned to me and stated that the only thing that would cheer me up was mass herbicide. So together we went, stalking in the not-very-tall unmowed grass, scouring the area for any sign of the fiends - enemies of the nation.

Later our elite force was joint by Major Orange Bucket. He was a bit of a bore, so we made him hold the captured enemies for questioning later. We ripped apart dandelions, breaking apart families, trampling down habitats. We found spies and held unfair trails for them, and moved the civillians out of harms way.

When finally we were done, I reported back to the Supreme Commander, who rewarded me with the task of making providing her with coffee and making myself tea.