Now our EE's done and gone,
We can get our party on!
[At least, or so we'd like to think;
Most of us can't legally drink]
Maybe they weren't quite perfect;
But not so bad, in retrospect!
First, econs, not being crass-
but OPEC's got a lot of gas!
Employment never in doubt
not while there's IRs about
History EE's- rise to fame!
Hitler changed his stupid name
Don't give Mussolini lip,
He rocked his dictatorship
Language EEs sound like fun
Tables, graphs, not even one
The reading's what lit geeks abhor
Quoth the student: 'Nevermore!'
Then of course we still have art
Painting, music, melts the heart
Try to put it down in writing,
Surely a battle worth fighting!
Math EE's.. well, never fear
Maybe someone will try next year?
Sample essays, perfect scores,
Not a concern any more
Worksheets, IAs, TOK
Deadlines soon, but not today!
Monday, April 27, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Friday, April 3, 2009
He sat in the office, not on the plush orange chair by the desk but on a smaller, plastic one, wedged inhospitably between the door and an uncharitable-looking pile of invoices.
'I'm going to give you the jab,' said the doctor.
J tensed.
'There,' said the doctor.
The patient left. J glanced at the clock.
'Would you like blackcurrant lozenges or the orangey kind?' the doctor asked, to which the assorted responses never varied from 'blackcurrant'.
By the end of the internship J wanted to shout, 'TAKE THE ORANGE, YOU MORON', just for variety. But he didn't, so nobody ever did. J for his own part had had unfortunate, traumatic incidents with ribena at an early age, so it was doubtful that he would ever enjoy wine or blackcurrant lozenges. Which was fortunate, really, because he never had a sore throat.
'Shame about the wine, though,' his dad said, when J shared this thought with him. 'I mean, nobody ever got high off lozenges.'
'Well, actually, there was this one guy-'
'Really?' Arawn said, thoughtful. 'What's the name of this doctor again?'
'I'm going to give you the jab,' said the doctor.
J tensed.
'There,' said the doctor.
The patient left. J glanced at the clock.
'Would you like blackcurrant lozenges or the orangey kind?' the doctor asked, to which the assorted responses never varied from 'blackcurrant'.
By the end of the internship J wanted to shout, 'TAKE THE ORANGE, YOU MORON', just for variety. But he didn't, so nobody ever did. J for his own part had had unfortunate, traumatic incidents with ribena at an early age, so it was doubtful that he would ever enjoy wine or blackcurrant lozenges. Which was fortunate, really, because he never had a sore throat.
'Shame about the wine, though,' his dad said, when J shared this thought with him. 'I mean, nobody ever got high off lozenges.'
'Well, actually, there was this one guy-'
'Really?' Arawn said, thoughtful. 'What's the name of this doctor again?'
Sunday, March 8, 2009
When she first heard the news she felt physically sick, and she knew grief, but only for a moment.
Then she was calm, and that was even more devastating than the hysteria.
She wanted to be upset. She wanted to tear out her hair and scream and cry. She wanted to feel like the world was ending, so that she could grieve and be done with it, because she knew that this kind of grief would hit her hard, but not now.
She was distraught.
She wished she was distraught.
rest in peace.
Then she was calm, and that was even more devastating than the hysteria.
She wanted to be upset. She wanted to tear out her hair and scream and cry. She wanted to feel like the world was ending, so that she could grieve and be done with it, because she knew that this kind of grief would hit her hard, but not now.
She was distraught.
She wished she was distraught.
rest in peace.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Larry spun around on his stool and extended his hand toward the guy a couple of seats away.
'Hi,' he said, flashing his teeth, 'I'm Larry.'
The other guy looked like he might have a couple of hits on the Country Western charts. His blonde hair fell in locks around his shoulders as he said, looking slightly startled, 'Good to meet you, Larry.'
'What's a brushed-up guy like you doing in a hellhole like this?'
The look of alarm continued to impress itself on Country Western's face. 'Meeting people.'
'Ladies?'
'No, just.. people. Talking. Understanding.'
'You're not one of those evangelicals, are you?'
'Um.'
'I can't stand those. Going around all high and mighty like they just climbed off a mountain of righteousness, or some such.'
'Well.'
'You one of them?'
'God isn't just on mountains of righteousness. He's all around us. He's in this bar,' Country Western said beatifically.
Larry snorted.
'God's not so bad,' Country Western protested. 'He's an ordinary guy. He's like you, only Without Sin.'
'So he won't be drinking at this bar, I take it.'
'..no,' said Country Western, who was nursing a bottle of mineral water.
'Won't be chatting up the ladies.'
'I suppose not.'
'Game of poker?'
'No.'
'Betting on the game?' Larry nodded at the plasma screen above their heads.
'Not.. exactly.'
'Would God fix the game, you reckon, if I asked?'
'No,' Country Western said, aghast. 'Free will, and all that.'
'How is God Just Like Me if he doesn't drink, gamble, chat up the ladies, or.. smoke?' Larry asked, going out on a limb.
'No, sorry.'
Country Western thought about it.
'God makes good wine.'
'Yeah?'
'At the wedding at Cana, say.'
'Oh, right.'
'He can hold his breath underwater.'
'Yeah? God like swimming?'
'Hasn't got much need for it.' Country Western walked his fingers through the empty air, and grinned.
'Nice. He's a bit of a stubborn bastard, isn't he, holding out in that desert against the devil the way he did.'
'Oh, you know about that?' Country Western said, modest.
Larry shrugged. 'Picked it up somewhere.'
Country Western gave it some thought. 'He'd be great at holding off the telemarketers, I guess.'
Larry laughed. 'All right! Here, I'll get you another bottle of that..water..?'
Country Western quirked his eyebrows. 'Carbonated.'
'Hi,' he said, flashing his teeth, 'I'm Larry.'
The other guy looked like he might have a couple of hits on the Country Western charts. His blonde hair fell in locks around his shoulders as he said, looking slightly startled, 'Good to meet you, Larry.'
'What's a brushed-up guy like you doing in a hellhole like this?'
The look of alarm continued to impress itself on Country Western's face. 'Meeting people.'
'Ladies?'
'No, just.. people. Talking. Understanding.'
'You're not one of those evangelicals, are you?'
'Um.'
'I can't stand those. Going around all high and mighty like they just climbed off a mountain of righteousness, or some such.'
'Well.'
'You one of them?'
'God isn't just on mountains of righteousness. He's all around us. He's in this bar,' Country Western said beatifically.
Larry snorted.
'God's not so bad,' Country Western protested. 'He's an ordinary guy. He's like you, only Without Sin.'
'So he won't be drinking at this bar, I take it.'
'..no,' said Country Western, who was nursing a bottle of mineral water.
'Won't be chatting up the ladies.'
'I suppose not.'
'Game of poker?'
'No.'
'Betting on the game?' Larry nodded at the plasma screen above their heads.
'Not.. exactly.'
'Would God fix the game, you reckon, if I asked?'
'No,' Country Western said, aghast. 'Free will, and all that.'
'How is God Just Like Me if he doesn't drink, gamble, chat up the ladies, or.. smoke?' Larry asked, going out on a limb.
'No, sorry.'
Country Western thought about it.
'God makes good wine.'
'Yeah?'
'At the wedding at Cana, say.'
'Oh, right.'
'He can hold his breath underwater.'
'Yeah? God like swimming?'
'Hasn't got much need for it.' Country Western walked his fingers through the empty air, and grinned.
'Nice. He's a bit of a stubborn bastard, isn't he, holding out in that desert against the devil the way he did.'
'Oh, you know about that?' Country Western said, modest.
Larry shrugged. 'Picked it up somewhere.'
Country Western gave it some thought. 'He'd be great at holding off the telemarketers, I guess.'
Larry laughed. 'All right! Here, I'll get you another bottle of that..water..?'
Country Western quirked his eyebrows. 'Carbonated.'
Saturday, January 31, 2009
How to survive the IB [SurvIBe!]
The IB isn't a joyride, but it doesn't have to be murderously hard. Here are a couple of ways to shake off the stress from school and soak in the good vIBes:
1. Develop a fondness for music you might otherwise consider bizarre
Because music soothes the savage IBeast! If you're not sure where to start,try showtunes. Or Queen. 'SCARAMOUCHE SCARAMOUCHE WILL YOU DO THE FANDANGO' would make even Bigfoot crack a smile.
2. Watch a chick flick
Because 'What Happens In Vegas' is a lot more likely to make you feel stupid and happy than Batman.
3. Maintain at least ONE hobby that can't be destroyed by a busy schedule
For instance, Dance Dance Revolution with small and implacable siblings. This isn't exactly my hobby [it's theirs] but there's something to be said for stamping on a helpless squashy pad after a rough day at school. And if you think it's hard to ignore a huge pile of weekend homework, you haven't met my sisters [Weekend homework doesn't have an annoyed 10-year-old's lungpower!]
4. Walk the dog
I read somewhere that stroking a pet's fur lowers its blood pressure- and yours! If you haven't got a pet, this is a good excuse to get one. Seriously. [And if pets aren't your cup of tea, you might try ruffling a small sibling's hair instead. No word on how this affects their blood pressure.]
5. Remember that you're not alone
There are dozens of forums and websites on the net for IB students. And also websites full of snarky quotes- ibquotes.com is amazing! In joining the IB, you're signing up for more than a load of exams- you're tapping into an international hive mind of people who laugh at the same stupid jokes, worry about the same tests, and occasionally burst into song when standing outside an exam hall. Thunderbolts and lightning may be very very frightening, but the IB doesn't have to be!
The IB isn't a joyride, but it doesn't have to be murderously hard. Here are a couple of ways to shake off the stress from school and soak in the good vIBes:
1. Develop a fondness for music you might otherwise consider bizarre
Because music soothes the savage IBeast! If you're not sure where to start,try showtunes. Or Queen. 'SCARAMOUCHE SCARAMOUCHE WILL YOU DO THE FANDANGO' would make even Bigfoot crack a smile.
2. Watch a chick flick
Because 'What Happens In Vegas' is a lot more likely to make you feel stupid and happy than Batman.
3. Maintain at least ONE hobby that can't be destroyed by a busy schedule
For instance, Dance Dance Revolution with small and implacable siblings. This isn't exactly my hobby [it's theirs] but there's something to be said for stamping on a helpless squashy pad after a rough day at school. And if you think it's hard to ignore a huge pile of weekend homework, you haven't met my sisters [Weekend homework doesn't have an annoyed 10-year-old's lungpower!]
4. Walk the dog
I read somewhere that stroking a pet's fur lowers its blood pressure- and yours! If you haven't got a pet, this is a good excuse to get one. Seriously. [And if pets aren't your cup of tea, you might try ruffling a small sibling's hair instead. No word on how this affects their blood pressure.]
5. Remember that you're not alone
There are dozens of forums and websites on the net for IB students. And also websites full of snarky quotes- ibquotes.com is amazing! In joining the IB, you're signing up for more than a load of exams- you're tapping into an international hive mind of people who laugh at the same stupid jokes, worry about the same tests, and occasionally burst into song when standing outside an exam hall. Thunderbolts and lightning may be very very frightening, but the IB doesn't have to be!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)