Last night I went all high and mighty and said to my books, “YOU are not the master of me. YOU do not dictate my happiness. YOU do not tell me what to do!” and with much drama I flip my hair and turned my backs on them.

And I went bloghopping and chocolate munching and wine drinking and friend-chatting and tv-watching and manga-reading…

…then I decided, wow, entertaining myself is such tiring work! Let’s head to bed.

Except, I can’t.

I was so worried with not studying and so worried with being behind. I tossed and turned in bed. I farted constantly to symbolically relieve the stress and butterflies from my stomach. Then I realized maybe my symbolic farting is a symbol that I should go to the toilet. Also because it was getting so stinky in the room and I was in danger of being poisoned gas by my own analmonia. I figured, I don’t want to be caught dead in a gaseous pool of my own fart, for lack of elegant words. I major in Business, not Literature. Specifically? Banking and Finance. AND Marketing. Tell me if you double major in those you don’t symbolically fart every minute (especially when faced with Finance subjects). God knows how Law students anally feel. In my course, there is a Law student who is double degree-ing with Business. Man, he must be having diarrhoea every nanoseconds.

So I head to the toilet, and liked I promised, I savoured the feeling of eliminating my distress. It’s so peacefully Zenshit.

BUT only my gastrodistress. Farting and shitting doesn’t seem to relieve the distress I have in my heart and in my head.

So this is how the books get back at me. They are evil. They know they have me. Their grip on me is strong. They refuse to let me go in peace. They’re evil. Evil.

I’m in campus now, textbooks and tutorial papers staring at me. Willing me to abandon them.

I could just as easily adopt the “traditional”, very politically incorrect, way of life. Finish high school, get married, spew babies and be stuck in the kitchen yelling “when I was your age, I did not (insert what you DID do when you were their age)”.

But noooooo, I decided to be smart and uppity and headed to university instead. And not only did I chose to learn traditionally female oriented things like nursing (being such kind and patient person I am) or teaching (ditto) or child psychology (I need psychology), I decided to go into Business. Defying my own father. And instead of just majoring in one, I decided, “I’m a superwoman, I’ll double major!”. And instead of staying at home where study life would have been easier, standard in my chosen field would have been considerably lower, I decided to head overseas (again, defying my father) and tackle the curriculum in a country where education standard are not to be messed with.

All this farting better be worth it.

The scary thing?

I was initially also thinking of going into Law.

Holy Lord, I don’t know what would have become of me then.

Sorry for the wingeing folks. I’ve scheduled Saturday as a recharge day because being the stupid anal-retentive, perfectionist, organizer-dictated life that I am, i can’t relax without first scheduling it. Show of hands, who thinks I’m sad? Thank you.

Hopefully I’ll be back to normal after that.

There’s too much anal in this post. Pardon my insensitivity if I have offended your delicate sensitivity. But butt the puck, it’s my blog and if you dare defy me, I warn you, my fart have been known to kill. The world is searching for the weapon of mass destruction in the wrong country and the wrong person.

BWAHWAHWAHWA!!! *thunder* *lightning*