this musty little corner of the wide, wide world of the internet (that is, this site) is usually only visited by my lazy ass whenever my emotions seemingly jerk awake after being in a long, long slumber (extremely rare considering my phlegmatic disposition), or when i draw notable inspiration from the world around me (also, has become a pretty uncommon occurrence nowadays due to my mundane routine of absorbing things already explored and things already discovered a thousand times before myself).
yet, today i have once again showed up to this stage with a microphone and nothing much to say. today i am tired, i am confused and i am crippled, standing in the liminal space between giving up and having hope.
my fingers have become naught but spindly tools that have gotten all too used to typing and writing, typing and writing, typing and writing. after a heated 1 hour and 40 minutes of continuous scribbling and purging buckets of the syllabus onto paper today during my geography exam, i let my pen collapse and roll away like sewage into the drain of my desk as i held my hands before my eyes. after several attempts to complete the elementary motor skill of clenching and expanding my throbbing palm (to no avail), a pretty dry laugh echoed in my ears, as the erratic pulsation of my wrists seemed to beat to the nodding of my head that yes, the education system is crazy beyond redemption.
today a few of us had a chat with a history teacher in school (and no, i don’t take history, regrettably). ok, maybe not a chat. more like pre-exam, self-deprecating monologues that he was forced to be audience to. he told us that ‘you will pass as long as you complete the paper!’. but let’s face it, these papers are not designed to be completed. we asked him why on earth the time limits for history and geography exams were so ludicrously short, especially when they involve so much writing. he told us that the school’s intentions were to prepare us for the equally challenging demands of our upcoming A level papers. that got me thinking: we are students, not race cars, yet our speed instead of intellectual ability is put to the test during these papers. there must really be a colossal flaw in the system then. has no teacher ever received a blank script and contemplated whether the student did not know—or whether she was chained by the manacles of time?
i don’t know. i pray that one day, my children will not wake up to have to find themselves on the battlefield, waiting to be slain by the blades of paper-edges; or swimming haphazardly in this murky pond, paddling away from all corners to escape being fished out of the water by the hook of a red tick.
I am tired, but I am still a fish biting onto the bark of this tree, believing ever so gullibly that I will one day get to taste the evergreen that the caterpillars gloat about from the heavens.