- Those who look back and smile. Eg: ex-cheerleaders.
- Those who look back and wince. Eg: ex-bully victims.
- Those who look back and don't remember a thing. Because after all there's nothing worth remembering, moreover that they've actually burnt their yearbooks down so everything vanished simultaneously. Eg: ex-haters, the unsatisfied, and the unattached.
Showing posts with label highschool's a bitch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label highschool's a bitch. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
H stands for Highschool, Hell, and HEYGETMEOUTOFHERE!!!
When it comes to life after highschool, there are 3 kinds of people:
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Don't read this if you can't handle the truth!
8 girls in one car; all single and not even close to dating guys anytime soon. What are the chances right? Answer is, it happens. As a matter of fact, I was actually one of the girls. Sucker!
So what do we exactly call that? Most people would shout SAD! Others would automatically think that those girls must be really unworthy of appraisals that no guys would ever try to touch (this, my friends, is not true nevertheless). In other word, SAD! SAD! SAD!!!
Me? I wouldn’t call that sad. Sad is a situation when everyone else around you has the same code ethic of coolness, but for some reason you couldn’t live up to the standards. Then you should feel free to call yourself a big fat loser.
But in the 8-single-girls-in-one-car case, DATING is actually not a code ethic of coolness in their environment. Hah, you’re probably thinking what the heck kinda environment is that, right? Well I’ll tell you what kind of environment that is: It’s the kind that somehow lets 6 of those 8 girls aforementioned above never ever gotten their first kiss!! Oh to prove my point, I shouldn’t say girls. LADIES is probably a better term.
If you still can’t picture the kind of environment we’re sinking our souls and bodies into, let me try to describe more in vivid details:
- It is the kind of environment that nurtures and recreates followers.
Those who follow the most and those who are far from being individualistic are considered as the gods and goddesses of funk! YAY!
- It is the kind of environment that always tries hard to unite its people together; ironically the result drifts one group even further from the other.
Okay people tomorrow we meet up altogether to play some soccer! Oh but umm, of course, that emo bitch shouldn’t come because if she comes, people will start wondering why on earth did she come, and we sure don’t want to cause some confusion ,do we now? Unity in diversity!
- It is the kind of environment where Chinese Whisper is the most played game of all.
Hey I heard that she was rebelling to the seniors during the orientation program, wait no didn’t she also cry or something, nah man I heard she was yelling at the seniors because they told her not to eat with her hands during lunch, yeah dude but then all the seniors started yelling back at her and she ended up CRYING!!! (My suggestion is: GET THE FUCKING FACTS RIGHT!!!)
- It is the kind of environment in which dating and relationships are as boring as ever.
Dude have you frenched her? Nah man it’s only been three months. What have you guys done then? Well yesterday I kinda gave her a peck. DUUUDEEE that’s still cool man I mean me and my girl have said the world LOVE to each other but she still wants to save her first cheek-kiss until we’re married!
- It is the kind of environment where indulgence is always in whereas sufferings are underrated.
Hey let’s just take the public transport, it’s cheap and way faster than if we wait for your chauffeur to pick us up. Noooo I don’t want to get into those dirty little cars, they stink and I don’t want my odor to mix with those wretched little poor creatures inside!
- It is the kind of environment where in order to get boys to like you, you have to have some certain traits.
First, you have to be cute. Second, clingy. Third, whiny. Next, you have to have a hint of stupidity so those boys wouldn’t feel intimidated by you, also they’d have something to make fun of. Oh and one last thing, you have to be utterly passive. None of them like an aggression, since obviously all are still virgin. Cheers to *oppressed* innocence!
- It is the kind of environment in which groups are so close-knitted it lets no air to breathe in.
I know right guys, as popular as we are, we should celebrate new year’s eve in a 5-star hotel! Oh just make sure the hotel we’re staying in isn’t also occupied by those other kids from public highschools, we’d like to enjoy our sucking-up moments to ourselves, puhlease!
- It is the kind of environment in which the word difference is synonym with outcast.
Oh haven’t you gotten yourself a blackberry? I mean why not, literally everyone else did! It’s like, how are we gonna keep in touch with you when you don’t keep yourself on track through blackberry messenger? Text messages are sooo five minutes ago girl, so we’re sorry if you weren’t informed about our next hang-out, your fault for not having a blackberry in hand!
Now you see why I’ve been more than desperate to break the fuck free??
P.S. My apologies for those who are offended by this, but I know deep down you know I'm right. Like always, I tell it like it is.
So what do we exactly call that? Most people would shout SAD! Others would automatically think that those girls must be really unworthy of appraisals that no guys would ever try to touch (this, my friends, is not true nevertheless). In other word, SAD! SAD! SAD!!!
Me? I wouldn’t call that sad. Sad is a situation when everyone else around you has the same code ethic of coolness, but for some reason you couldn’t live up to the standards. Then you should feel free to call yourself a big fat loser.
But in the 8-single-girls-in-one-car case, DATING is actually not a code ethic of coolness in their environment. Hah, you’re probably thinking what the heck kinda environment is that, right? Well I’ll tell you what kind of environment that is: It’s the kind that somehow lets 6 of those 8 girls aforementioned above never ever gotten their first kiss!! Oh to prove my point, I shouldn’t say girls. LADIES is probably a better term.
If you still can’t picture the kind of environment we’re sinking our souls and bodies into, let me try to describe more in vivid details:
- It is the kind of environment that nurtures and recreates followers.
Those who follow the most and those who are far from being individualistic are considered as the gods and goddesses of funk! YAY!
- It is the kind of environment that always tries hard to unite its people together; ironically the result drifts one group even further from the other.
Okay people tomorrow we meet up altogether to play some soccer! Oh but umm, of course, that emo bitch shouldn’t come because if she comes, people will start wondering why on earth did she come, and we sure don’t want to cause some confusion ,do we now? Unity in diversity!
- It is the kind of environment where Chinese Whisper is the most played game of all.
Hey I heard that she was rebelling to the seniors during the orientation program, wait no didn’t she also cry or something, nah man I heard she was yelling at the seniors because they told her not to eat with her hands during lunch, yeah dude but then all the seniors started yelling back at her and she ended up CRYING!!! (My suggestion is: GET THE FUCKING FACTS RIGHT!!!)
- It is the kind of environment in which dating and relationships are as boring as ever.
Dude have you frenched her? Nah man it’s only been three months. What have you guys done then? Well yesterday I kinda gave her a peck. DUUUDEEE that’s still cool man I mean me and my girl have said the world LOVE to each other but she still wants to save her first cheek-kiss until we’re married!
- It is the kind of environment where indulgence is always in whereas sufferings are underrated.
Hey let’s just take the public transport, it’s cheap and way faster than if we wait for your chauffeur to pick us up. Noooo I don’t want to get into those dirty little cars, they stink and I don’t want my odor to mix with those wretched little poor creatures inside!
- It is the kind of environment where in order to get boys to like you, you have to have some certain traits.
First, you have to be cute. Second, clingy. Third, whiny. Next, you have to have a hint of stupidity so those boys wouldn’t feel intimidated by you, also they’d have something to make fun of. Oh and one last thing, you have to be utterly passive. None of them like an aggression, since obviously all are still virgin. Cheers to *oppressed* innocence!
- It is the kind of environment in which groups are so close-knitted it lets no air to breathe in.
I know right guys, as popular as we are, we should celebrate new year’s eve in a 5-star hotel! Oh just make sure the hotel we’re staying in isn’t also occupied by those other kids from public highschools, we’d like to enjoy our sucking-up moments to ourselves, puhlease!
- It is the kind of environment in which the word difference is synonym with outcast.
Oh haven’t you gotten yourself a blackberry? I mean why not, literally everyone else did! It’s like, how are we gonna keep in touch with you when you don’t keep yourself on track through blackberry messenger? Text messages are sooo five minutes ago girl, so we’re sorry if you weren’t informed about our next hang-out, your fault for not having a blackberry in hand!
Now you see why I’ve been more than desperate to break the fuck free??
P.S. My apologies for those who are offended by this, but I know deep down you know I'm right. Like always, I tell it like it is.
Friday, November 20, 2009
The pressure is on.
Right now all of us 12th graders are put under a gigantic amount of pressure, considering the exaggeratedly demanding yet useless Indonesian educational system that requires us to have brains as big as Einstein’s.
At times like this, boys become books. Hanging out at the malls becomes studying at home. Stalking random people on the internet becomes stalking your teachers at school for extra lessons. Being angry at God for reasons unknown becomes begging God to bless you with enough patience and perseverance. Gossiping about whom made out with whom becomes discussing about the velocity of gravitational pull and the interconnection of DNA determinations. Wanting to become a movie star becomes striving to get into a good university.
Most of my friends have two options: If they don’t get accepted into one of the best universities in Indonesia, they have one of those expensive, foreign-owned, socially-homogenetic private colleges for back-ups. But me, I don’t have any back-ups. I have one option, and one option only. It’s either architecture ITB (Bandung Institution of Technology), or total embarrassment. The pressure is doubled, and I become like a weak donkey who’s spine almost cracks in two due to the obese, merciless master fully pressing his weight upon the pitiful donkey.
At times like this, I wish Holden Caulfield would come to rescue:
“ Here’s my idea. How would you like to get the hell out of here? Here’s my idea. I know this guy down in Greenwich Village that we can borrow his car for a couple of weeks. He used to go to the same school I did and he still owes me ten bucks. What we could do is, tomorrow morning we could drive up to Massachusetts and Vermont, and all around there, see. It’s beautiful up there. It really is” ... “I have about a hundr
ed and eighty bucks in the bank. I can take it out when it opens in the morning, and then I could go down and get this guy’s car. No kidding. We’ll stay in these cabin camps and stuff like that till the dough runs out. Then, when the dough runs out, I could get a job somewhere and we could live somewhere with a brook and all and, later on, we could get married or something. I could chop all our own wood in the wintertime and all. Honest to God, we could have a terrific time! Wuddaya say? C’mon! Wuddaya say? Will you do it with me? Please!”
If only he would magically materialize from the pages of the book and popped me the question, I would shout on top of my lungs with vibrations so ear-numbing I’d kill birds: “YES!!! A THOUSAND TIMES YES!!! PLEASE HOLDEN, JUST GET ME OUTTA HERE!!!” Hey don’t judge me, all I want is a sweet escape! Plus it’d be way fun to live somewhere deep in a forest, with nothing to mind and nobody else to interfere. And when winter comes, all day long I’d sit on a rocking chair on my wrap-around porch and watch the muscles on Holden’s arms flexing as he chops the firewood.
If only...
At times like this, boys become books. Hanging out at the malls becomes studying at home. Stalking random people on the internet becomes stalking your teachers at school for extra lessons. Being angry at God for reasons unknown becomes begging God to bless you with enough patience and perseverance. Gossiping about whom made out with whom becomes discussing about the velocity of gravitational pull and the interconnection of DNA determinations. Wanting to become a movie star becomes striving to get into a good university.
Most of my friends have two options: If they don’t get accepted into one of the best universities in Indonesia, they have one of those expensive, foreign-owned, socially-homogenetic private colleges for back-ups. But me, I don’t have any back-ups. I have one option, and one option only. It’s either architecture ITB (Bandung Institution of Technology), or total embarrassment. The pressure is doubled, and I become like a weak donkey who’s spine almost cracks in two due to the obese, merciless master fully pressing his weight upon the pitiful donkey.
At times like this, I wish Holden Caulfield would come to rescue:
“ Here’s my idea. How would you like to get the hell out of here? Here’s my idea. I know this guy down in Greenwich Village that we can borrow his car for a couple of weeks. He used to go to the same school I did and he still owes me ten bucks. What we could do is, tomorrow morning we could drive up to Massachusetts and Vermont, and all around there, see. It’s beautiful up there. It really is” ... “I have about a hundr
ed and eighty bucks in the bank. I can take it out when it opens in the morning, and then I could go down and get this guy’s car. No kidding. We’ll stay in these cabin camps and stuff like that till the dough runs out. Then, when the dough runs out, I could get a job somewhere and we could live somewhere with a brook and all and, later on, we could get married or something. I could chop all our own wood in the wintertime and all. Honest to God, we could have a terrific time! Wuddaya say? C’mon! Wuddaya say? Will you do it with me? Please!”If only he would magically materialize from the pages of the book and popped me the question, I would shout on top of my lungs with vibrations so ear-numbing I’d kill birds: “YES!!! A THOUSAND TIMES YES!!! PLEASE HOLDEN, JUST GET ME OUTTA HERE!!!” Hey don’t judge me, all I want is a sweet escape! Plus it’d be way fun to live somewhere deep in a forest, with nothing to mind and nobody else to interfere. And when winter comes, all day long I’d sit on a rocking chair on my wrap-around porch and watch the muscles on Holden’s arms flexing as he chops the firewood.
If only...
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Mediocre Adilla in her mediocre world.
One if the things long awaited at the end of my senior year is the Yearbook. This year, I happen to commit myself to join the Yearbook Committee, and we were having a meeting to discuss the theme, design, etc. One of the most exciting sections everyone tend to get all excited about is the “The Most” section. Here, we categorize stereotypes and put in one girl and one boy who fit into the criteria the most. Example: Most unique, most bullied (yes, seriously), most eligible, most obsessed (?), best couple, and the list goes on.
Suddenly it occurred to me: If I were to be stereotyped, what would I be “The Most” at?? Here are some considerations, just for the heck of it...
- I am not strikingly pretty nor am I hideously ugly
- I am not brilliantly intelligent nor am I humiliatingly idiotic
- I am not saint-like nor am I an evil bitch
- I am not intimidatingly popular nor am I a dying loser
- I am not disturbingly talkative nor am I dully silent
- I am not conspicuously bold nor am I pathetically weak
- I am not much of an achiever nor do I have completely nothing to boast about
- I am not passionately compassionate nor am I an ignorant snob
- I am not paper thin nor do I look like a bloated pig
- I am not remarkably visionary nor am I a slow-progressing dimwit
- I am not pleasantly lovable nor am I horrendously hate-able
- I am not outstandingly talented nor am I utterly talentless
XXX: So what is your talent?
Me: Well i can play a bit of violin.
XXX: Oh that’s wonderful! Can you play *insert sonata* by *insert composer* from the *romantic/renaissance/baroque* period?
Me: Umm, no...
So yeah, my point is... It takes me whole lotta guts to say this, but oh my fucking god am I that fucking mediocre?? Even my teacher said this himself, “You are too mediocre, Adilla.” (Well, actually he said “Your grades are too mediocre, I’m sure you can do better than that”. But the only word my brain could perceive was MEDIOCRE MEDIOCRE MEDIOCRE!!!)
And no, I don’t think I’d fit into one of those “The Most” categories, except if there was one called The Most Mediocre. But then again, there might be a whole lotta other people who are more mediocre than me, so how mediocre is The Most Mediocre? This is just great, I’m even mediocre at being mediocre...
Me with my mediocre smile, mediocre hair, mediocre camera-gaze, mediocre plain white tee...
Mediocre me, mediocre me
How much more mediocre can I ever be?
Lock me in a box and throw away the key
And ship me forever out into the Mediocre Sea
P.S. You can call me mediocre all you like, but I would never accept the word GENERIC. Being generic is like being one those really cheap, mass-produced generic medicine they sell on ragged-looking pharmacies, or one of those generic Barbies with empty staring eyes and frozen smile and plastic curves you see rowing down the isles of supermarkets. And that’s the one thing I’m pretty sure I’m not ;)
Suddenly it occurred to me: If I were to be stereotyped, what would I be “The Most” at?? Here are some considerations, just for the heck of it...
- I am not strikingly pretty nor am I hideously ugly
- I am not brilliantly intelligent nor am I humiliatingly idiotic
- I am not saint-like nor am I an evil bitch
- I am not intimidatingly popular nor am I a dying loser
- I am not disturbingly talkative nor am I dully silent
- I am not conspicuously bold nor am I pathetically weak
- I am not much of an achiever nor do I have completely nothing to boast about
- I am not passionately compassionate nor am I an ignorant snob
- I am not paper thin nor do I look like a bloated pig
- I am not remarkably visionary nor am I a slow-progressing dimwit
- I am not pleasantly lovable nor am I horrendously hate-able
- I am not outstandingly talented nor am I utterly talentless
XXX: So what is your talent?
Me: Well i can play a bit of violin.
XXX: Oh that’s wonderful! Can you play *insert sonata* by *insert composer* from the *romantic/renaissance/baroque* period?
Me: Umm, no...
So yeah, my point is... It takes me whole lotta guts to say this, but oh my fucking god am I that fucking mediocre?? Even my teacher said this himself, “You are too mediocre, Adilla.” (Well, actually he said “Your grades are too mediocre, I’m sure you can do better than that”. But the only word my brain could perceive was MEDIOCRE MEDIOCRE MEDIOCRE!!!)
And no, I don’t think I’d fit into one of those “The Most” categories, except if there was one called The Most Mediocre. But then again, there might be a whole lotta other people who are more mediocre than me, so how mediocre is The Most Mediocre? This is just great, I’m even mediocre at being mediocre...
Me with my mediocre smile, mediocre hair, mediocre camera-gaze, mediocre plain white tee...Mediocre me, mediocre me
How much more mediocre can I ever be?
Lock me in a box and throw away the key
And ship me forever out into the Mediocre Sea
P.S. You can call me mediocre all you like, but I would never accept the word GENERIC. Being generic is like being one those really cheap, mass-produced generic medicine they sell on ragged-looking pharmacies, or one of those generic Barbies with empty staring eyes and frozen smile and plastic curves you see rowing down the isles of supermarkets. And that’s the one thing I’m pretty sure I’m not ;)
Friday, October 9, 2009
Reality is harsh.
Today I discovered two ugly truths:
1. Sometimes people who you care about the most can turn to be the people who hurt you the most.
2. Sometimes people who you thought care about you the most are the people who actually don't give the slightest damn at all.
enough said
1. Sometimes people who you care about the most can turn to be the people who hurt you the most.
2. Sometimes people who you thought care about you the most are the people who actually don't give the slightest damn at all.
enough said
Monday, June 1, 2009
Wake me up when highschool ends.
I remember as a child listening to a song by some Indonesian singer entitled Kisah Kasih di Sekolah (A Love Story at School). It was about how beautiful highschool life is, where teenagers can experience such wonderful moments filled with love and joy and feel the luminous splendors of getting through puberty with carefree, happy-go-lucky steps. I, being a 6th grader back then, really wanted to just skip a few years forward and excite myself in the sparkling world of highschool. Now, I wish I knew better.
I gotta say, it’s not exactly what you would call fun and games. In fact, it’s far from fun and games. It’s all about survival and how far you can manage to survive. Even worse, the obstacles that you have to overcome are unpredictable, sometimes they’re right there before your eyes and other times you have to go beyond man’s wits and speculation to make it all crystal clear and solvable. Some of them are:
- The definition of success: The smarter you are at school, the more successful you will be.
- The peer pressure dilemma: Following your friends in order to fit in vs. ignoring all the peer pressures around in order to find your utmost true self.
- The uncertainty of the future: It is believed that highschool opens the door to your future. The question is, which door you will choose? Once you go in, it’s gonna be hard to go back.
- Highschool puberty: Puberty is annoying enough as it is, that mixing it with our highschool life is simply obnoxious. How are we supposed to grow up when pressures and more pressures just keep coming to weigh us down? (Problems lead us to maturity; pressures lead us to severe insanity)
- The power of memory: Highschool literally translates to youth. Once you’re in your 50s, obviously you wouldn’t want to look back to find that your youthful highschool life was a vague blur and most of your friends and teachers had already forgotten you anyway. Teenagers want to make the best out of their youth, meaning that there’s an invisible demand to make our highschool moments unforgettable, whichever way possible.
There is one key pass up highschool in triumph: Endurance. Remain calm, do what you ought to do, do what needs to be done, have fun, fly with your eyes half-closed, use friends to remain sane, don’t let peer pressures or any other pressures get to you, gossip or be gossip-ed about like you don’t give a damn, love those who love you, love those who hate you, study well AND lick your teachers ass to get good grades (at least good enough to help you realize your dreams), don’t complain too much, don’t try too hard to be happy, and all will be easy-breezy fine. Just get it over with. Of course, this means that you will miss approximately three years of your life being a completely silent, lifeless, immobile stone.
But then again, life begins when highschool ends. And that’s the sort of principle I’m hanging on to right this moment. I’m asleep, and it is on June 2010 that I may finally wake up.
Hopefully :)
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