Friday, January 25, 2008
~ 1/25/2008 10:10:00 PM ~
Alright. I’m going to update my blog now.
I have been preparing for road run recently, not because I expect to get something out of it. It’s just that since I have signed up for it, I’d better try my best for it. Maybe this is one of the reasons why I joined (not officially) track and field, racing uphill again and again, exhausted, sweating, panting, cursing under my breath.
No PE lessons so far due to the attachment. So I decided to run on my own. Or not exactly for today. Pei Yi agreed to run with me. She ran 2km, I ran 4km. She ran alternate rounds and I ran continuously for 10 rounds. Soaked with sweat, I returned to the study area under TRC and tried to finish up some maths questions before civics.
I’m glad to have at least a timetable for every Friday. My attachment is quite manageable if you know what I mean. Kirk and I and all the rest could, and we preferred to do research at school instead of going all the way to NUS in an claustrophobic MRT for one hour and trying to go with the flow of the Rush Hour to fight my way into a crowded Bus No. 95. But sometimes we had to give up and flagged a taxi. So it means that I could have a lot of free time at school, chionging maths with Kirk. Yi Heng and Nat joined us occasionally. But most of the time was Kirk’s OGL, “LOL the Stalker”, and we would end up talking cock to kill the mundane, hypnotic afternoon.
No GP lesson today, which delighted me – wait, we were assigned tasks to do. But at least we wouldn’t be sitting in a confined classroom. Lunchtime. I’ve been hungry after the 4km run. Haiz, no fishball noodle today. The stall was closed. Changed to another stall. When Ernest and I returned, Glen was already munching rice at the table. I sat down and did the same, wolfing down my noodles. When both of us were concentrating on our food, a scrawny middle-aged woman, back hunched, came to us. Two plastic bags on each of her hand. A collector of cans and bottles. My glance slid across her and returned to my noodles. Glen was trying to gather the remaining vegetables in the plate together and did not take any notice of her. She started talking to Glen in high-pitched, improper Mandarin, waving the plastic bags. Both of us stared at her, confused. At least we could catch some words, “Don’t put cans and bottles on the table. On the ground. Tell other people not to put cans and bottles on the table. On the ground. Hor? Hor? Hor?” When she said the “hor, hor, hor” she used the dirty bags to brush Glen, who glared at her indignantly, and the next second, the lunatic’s gone, brushing other people. Xin Zhi, Sherman, Nicholas and Ernest who sat at another table rushed towards our table.
“She won’t come here to haunt this table for a second time.” They explained.
