I’m writing this in my chemistry class. The teacher is currently going through our recent chemistry test, which I scored 25/39 in. I know it sounds a bit rubbish, but I am pretty proud of it because I missed a whole load of chemistry when I was ill before our half-term week-long holiday back in February. So considering that, I think 25/39, or 64.1%, isn’t bad going really…
OK, my teacher is now going on about electrons in the outer shell.
I wonder if there are, like, little subatomic particles swimming around in actual shells. Yeah, like the ones on the beach. I like seashells; they all have a unique texture and design, and they are great for art collages.
I haven’t made an art collage since I was about six: my sister and I used to sit on the floor with a huge sheet of paper – or sometimes cardboard -, and just stick random objects, materials and pictures down with glue or tape. I hated glue – I still do. It’s all sticky and gloopy, and gets under your fingernails. It’s the same as paint, or clay.
Apparently, clay is very good for your skin, but who in their right mind is going to cleanse their skin with clay? That’s like something one of those `art people”‘ would do. You know, the ones who sign up to imperative dance classes, or get drunk and say that it’s `a psychological experiment”‘. I mean, if I’m going to get pissed, I won’t need an excuse, trust me.
Oh Gosh, my teacher is now demonstrating the attraction between subatomic particles by pretending that students on the central desk in the room are protons and neutrons, and the rest of us are electrons. I’m not negative – I like to think I’m pretty optimistic, thank you very much. Perhaps the electrons whizzing around the nucleus get dizzy; I mean, they are basically going around and around all day (and night) long. Maybe, once a month, they go on strike, just for an hour or so. That would send scientists into a stroppy panic. I bet it would be really funny to see one of those really nerdy-looking scientists having a panic, their arms flailing about in complete and utter concern that perhaps – just perhaps – the world is about to either end, implode or being hit by a giant rogue moon. Regardless, the prospects aren’t great…
Oh, apparently I’m a `concern”‘ in chemistry. Basically, we have this colour-coding system, with `exceeding”‘, `on track”‘, `just behind”‘ and `concern”‘. Depending on your grade, you get given one of these colours, which basically shows you how you’re doing in relation to your target. So hey – whoop! I’m a concern…
This morning, I broke my Bag for Life. For those who don’t know, here in the UK, we have to pay 5p for a plastic bag – you know, the type you get in the supermarket? Yeah, so we have to pay 5p for those, or 10p for a stronger, more durable plastic bag, branded a Bag for Life. The idea is that you reuse them (because they’re more durable), and therefore use less plastic bags, and therefore save the environment… blah blah blah. I can’t help but wonder: if I broke my Bag for Life, does that mean it’s now a Bag for Death? Am I going to die? Shit, I’m going to die – what do you do on your last day alive? Is it the kind of occasion you hold a party for? Maybe a full-on party is to happy; how about a tea-party? You know, where you sit in a circle in the park (or on a patch of grass) with pathetic paper hats on, eating `finger-food”‘, which invariably gets all over you, causing you to have sticky fingers and no water to wash them in.
Or maybe a Bag for Life is the idea that each bag saves a life. I like that idea more, because I like to think that I’m actually helping someone, somewhere, even if I’m not (which is usually the case). So, to you reading this, I may have saved your life – YAY! But then, I broke that bag, so maybe instead of causing myself to die, I’ve made you die. Yes, you… Argh, sorry!!!
Standing in the corridor earlier, lining up for class, a couple of students walked by me. Obviously, I heard a snippet (excellent word: snippet) of their conversation, which sounded like this:
Person 1: “I love Coke.”
Person 2: “You just get high on Coke, whenever you have it.”
Person 1: (sniggers) `Yeah…”
I’m already concerned. I mean, I can only hope they meant the drink, but considering the conversation, and that these were fourteen-or-fifteen-year-old boys, I highly doubt that. Scary stuff, right?
I’m in form at the moment. Form is basically where my whole class get together for half-an-hour in the morning, with our form tutor, and discuss things or watch videos. This morning, she’s put on my radio piece for the class to listen to, and I swear that I’m cringing more now than I did when I first heard it. This must be child cruelty, I swear…
This is so awful! Argh, help me!!!
This post has gone on for long enough, I feel. I’ve written this over two days at school: Monday afternoon and Tuesday morning, and I’ve clearly (I think) signified the beginning of a new day. I’ll probably post this on Tuesday evening, so when you read this, you will know that I have been working on this for several days.
I hope you enjoyed this 🙂