We looked at each and knew that something was going to happen. Our eyes held each other and i knew that something strange was happening to my insides, right near my heart. I turned away and looked at the wall opposite us. Someone had written something on the wall, in big pink letters. ‘Nothing exciting or beautiful or brutal ever happened here.’ I smiled. The wall knew nothing about anything. The wall didn’t know about me and you and what we were going to do next.
“I have so much to say to you. I want to begin at the beginning, because that is what you deserve. I want to tell you everything, without leaving out a single detail. But where is the beginning? And what is everything?”—Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer (via gandhilove) (via cingcang-keling11) (via loveyourchaos) (via avantlecrepuscule) (via keremmermutlu)
Hey Jae Gregory,
I went to a 2 hour lecture, which (in my final semester) is actually a 1st year elective, so the entire lecture was about how to give a speech. The lady through some jokes in there, but she had not established enough of a relationship with the audience to make us laugh. After the lecture I went to central, ate macdonalds, and went on the train home, sitting next to a smelly man with short shorts (whom I have a photo of and will upload some time). He looked like he had stumbled through time and space as he simultaneously homeless and from the future. Upon arriving home I watched Dr. Phil, Oprah and Days of our lives, played COD, then had a nap.
Mum called and said she was in town and wanted to take us out for Peking duck, and being hungry I said yes. I cancelled band practice tonight, and was on my way. Mum accidently ordered 6 meals, including a whole fish, and the Peking duck (which was two meals) and other various seafoods and tofus. When the fish arrived we were all full so I doggy bagged it all, as my sister is going to splendour and would not need containers of fish in a tent.
I got home, full as ever, struggling to breathe from all the food, and Iwhen I open the door I realise I didn't close the door in the laundry room and had the dryer on, so there the evaporation from the dryer has entered the entire apartment and everything is steamy and i slip over and spill one of the containers of fish.
Being a hoarder I (with my hands) picked up the slimey fish and put it back in it's container and in the fridge it went.
Flustered from my walk in, I came into the computer and checked tumblr and wrote about my day.
Love Clive Ba-Pe.
Clive, i love you so much!
Aren’t you going to splendour? and feel free to send some of that food in a general Gregory direction, except the fish, you can keep that :)
You know those nights when you can't sleep because of him ? you cry your eyes out waiting for him to call , you miss him so much but you know you can't do anything about it ? well yeah did you ever think that he's not calling you cause he's on the phone with somebody new ? he fucked you over then he left you all alone , but you don't blame him , you blame yourself .. i'm telling you girls , it's not worth it , why don't you spend those nights with your girls or with family ? i'm sure they won't make you cry , fuck all the boys who made you cry , cause you know deep down inside your heart you know that someday , someone is gonna treat you right , treat you like his little princess , don't worry girls , the day will come & when it comes don't forget to treat the boy who loves you the way you'd like to be treated .
we ran out of the boat, up the bank and collapsed together is a mangled mess of sweat and tears.
they cried because of our loss, the realization that we were never going to take home the gold medal they work so very hard for. they wept, and they sobbed; comforting each other through the mask of tears, never ending hugs, grasping onto each other so tight as if they never were letting go.
i on the other hand, sat next to this mess of emotion and felt nothing. absolutely nothing. well, nothing, with a side of relief.
my dreams and aspirations for that sport were now hid behind a cocktail of chemicals. i was just glad to be able to eat again.
i’m the kind of person that will answer any question you pose.
and if i don’t know the answer, i’ll either try and find an appropriate answer or upon failing at that, will make up an answer which will be colourful enough to surprise you and factual enough that you’ll believe it.
The first 7 years of our schooling lives are intended to turn us from A-sexual, energetic, snotty little rascals, into well mannered, independent, grammatically correct human beings, and ultimately prepare us for high school and thus, the rest of the world. And for a moment it almost seemed like it worked.
Primary school is a jungle gym of life lessons. Learning to share, keeping your hands to yourself and being sure to always wear underwear. For the majority of us post-pubescent young adults, these rules still apply, however, have taken on different meanings. These days, it’s don’t share. Don’t share drinks; don’t share germs; don’t share answers or assignments. Keeping our hands to ourselves is still just as important, if not more as we’ve entered a world of Chlamydia and Gonorrheae so be sure to keep your personal space as well as at least 30cm between you and any other person, because it may not be cooties, but you’re bound to catch something apparently. And lets all make sure we keep up the good work in the underwear department, be sure not to leave home, or anywhere else without them.
When we’re young, everything seems like the end of the world, not being picked first for the soccer team, or only being chorus in the musical, or even falling off the stage in a 2nd grade Spice Girl routine, not that we’d know. In middle school, we grew up, developed raging hormones and learnt everything is, in fact, the end of the world; we are right, everyone else is wrong and like if you didn’t go matching to a school social, you were so not cool. Then in senior school, our boys joined the football team and discovered anything can be fixed by simply seeing Bundy.
12 years can do a lot for a person. They say ‘in a moment, everything can change’, now according to Wikipedia, a moment can be defined as an American Jewish publication, a cheese flavoured snack, or the equivalent to 1.5 minutes. Now just give me a second, there’s 40 moments in an hour, 960 in a day, 349,440 in a year, and 4,193,280 in the time it takes to complete a generic schooling course, a few more for those of us that want to give a go at a dancing career.
4 million moments, that’s a lot of opportunities for everything to change, at least once or twice. Most of the time, at our age, change is good, like the generations revolution to abolishing bowl cuts, and moving on from lacy frilly socks- for most of us at least, give Jaime a chance to catch up.
Now I speak for a very small group of us, 11 of [number of students in grade], about [percentage]%, or perhaps just myself, when I say, RGS ain’t half bad. And although it allowed us to do a whole lot of growing up, so has it. We’ve witnessed the destruction and construction of [number] buildings, the implication of [number] uniform adjustments and the introduction of [number] new teaching staff.
We lost teeth on these grounds, grazed knees, or ripped them open entirely, spent more time and money than you could believe- thanks Mum. But just between us, it was worth it all.
Our thanks have to go out to all the staff and teachers who witness our development and contributed even if it were just the slightest way, children of that age are very easily influence and in this school, I believe it was all for the good. To our parents, for allowing if not forcing us to come back here, day after day for 12 years, it’s certainly a routine I’m going to miss.
To our peers, I believe we all owe each other a big thankyou. Some days, people are easier to deal with than others, and it seems, on most days, we’ve all done a very good job at dealing with that. As we look around, surely there are students here, if not just one or two, that you’ve never spoken to in your time here, and that’s okay. There are students you wouldn’t have liked at all, students you liked a little too much, and students you would have given anything to be like.
Every day was different in this school, wether the girls sat at the big table or the little table, if you had a sub teacher, or perhaps there was a faux lockdown or transformer explosion, no day at RGS was the same, and in times of trouble you could always count on finding companionship within our cohort, usually in the most unlikely of places.
We did good Seniors 09. There may be no fundraisers left and even stricter uniform rules, but if that’s how we were to impact the school, we should be proud of that. 12 years, we finally did it. Congratulations!
reading this fills me with the joy and excitement of graduating, every time.