Take The Cake Day/Twelfth Night/Get On The Computer Day/Turn Up The Heat Day
2005-01-05 @ 11:58 p.m.

I've been sleeping since 6 pm, with a brief interlude for dinner at 7.30 pm. By tomorrow, I'll have been sleeping for nearly 12 hours. I'm mentally not really there right now. Was kind of stoned during practice earlier, barely staying awake through the whole thing. Just woke up to find three missed calls and three messages on my handphone. Jeremy, I'm really sorry! I fell asleep waiting for your reply. Argh, I was supposed to wake up at 9 pm to do some work, but I guess it's too late for that now. The reality of being a J2 hasn't quite sunk in yet, and it won't be pretty when it does. I guess some things will never change, like people not doing Mr Kwok's tutorial questions. Wonder what our junior class will be like? The thought of a party is what's sustaining me right now. That, and the reassuring notion that in a few years' time, none of this will matter anymore.

To be totally irrelevant, I should mention that blue Slurpees are nice! The Hullabaloo flavour is one of the nicest, but everybody in my class disagrees with me and thinks I'm like this weird freak for drinking a bright cyan Slurpee. Whatever. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention yesterday that Mr Purvis told us he's the new teacher-in-charge for CWC. He's enamoured of Li Jun's poetry, which is very good, and is extremely happy that she's in CWC. The singular irony is that she hasn't gone for a single meeting, but now I do think she will. Can't wait to see Kai Min work with him. Speaking of Kai Min, I need to send two poems to him by next Sunday, so can all of you just click here, and tell me which are my five best poems in your opinion. There are 31 at present so there's plenty of choice, but I'll probably write a new one before January 9 anyway. With one exception, they were written during the past two years, representing the start of a more mature (or at least less infantile) bent to my writing. One of the things I regret about my old computer's hard disk failing is the irretrievable loss of all but one of my old poems. That only survived because it was written on paper, filed away and forgotten. Not that the poems were particular good (and they still aren't), but it would have been nice to see the progression, if only for personal curiosity. Think I'll write something new tomorrow during my Mathematics lecture.