/of a masterpiece in self-effacy
I have been too busy to blog, or rather alternating between variant states of health
issues which have been attacking me with a vigour which shatters my bruised immune system to the ground. My immunity, as I have come to realise is merely sufficient to wheeze its way through a handful of commmon flu bugs before
slambam. My dependency on pills has resulted in the dedication of a wholesome cabinet in my room to the life-sustaining of K. whose physical state is of such deploration I would have sublimed into unviable matter if not for the supplements my mother shoves down my throat every odd hour.
I would blog about school or atleast about the exceptional teachers I have been willed with except for I realise I do not have the patience to fabricate drama to churn out sufficient blog content. Because it is boring. Its not a flaw per se and some students find it a synonym of common association which they might appreciate (after all it supplies them with a reason to prolong their sleep time); for me though its an acquired taste I have yet to acquire. Like mushrooms. But don't take this comparison too seriously, because in all seriousness, I have no intention of degrading any teacher to the level of fungi, even if the lessons you hold tend towards the stale and mouldy.
On the other hand, Chemistry SPA was an absolute nightmare. I must have obliterated every possible lab safety existant and I would methodically list my impotency with labwor except that I don't have a decade or two to spare. The bunsen burner was jabbed frequently, my gas pipe reeked and my chemistry knowledge (or rather the appalling lack of it) was the excarbation of the whole affair. I didn't even try to bubble calcium hydroxide because with my coordination of a drunken primate I would have imploded my test tube. Then again, I have screwed up so much it is logically unquantifiable to have done any worse.
9:02 AM
