PHWOAR so yesterday, I had an almost-monumental emotional freakout. It seems these episodes are quite periodic and happen about...every two months or so. Is that healthy? I suppose not, but in a very strange and quite masochistic way, it of course feels very good.

I BLAME THE RIGOURS OF ADOLESCENCE.

Haha well I am half-kidding anyway. It seems that after such breakdowns, I take very little seriously and everything's a joke as if I've just run out of emotional juice! It is quite funny, observing one's own emotional cycles. Not so funny when you see how ridiculous it all is but well, no matter!

Wednesday was the submission of our Art A Level Coursework, and no I don't really want to talk about it because I'm not veryvery happy with it and oh woe, artistic anguish!

Although I will send pictures to you Aini, if you ask!

And at some point of time, when photobucket is being kind, will post up pictures too.

But hey! Let's talk about my sooper-dooper fun art class! It's a pity we only got to know each other better these recent weeks, but heck isn't that how things always are?
They're marvelous people and what's so great is that we're like a collective of random people thrown in from different cliques and backgrounds, so things are always always interesting.


So here's Zara and I (woah, proper grammer) at the examination center at Margaret Drive where we submitted our projects. We took a bus there, while Kenneth was carted into a truck with his larger project. We are jumping with MUCH JOY because it is all over!

Joy also, because the trucks delivering the works of other schools (and hence, anxiety over our own competency) have not yet arrived.

You know funny thing is that while we look so happy here, the class was collectively having seperation anxiety after we submitted our works. Typical symptoms exhibited include: reluctance to leave the submission room, half-hearted attempts to sneak back into room and MASSIVE PARANOIA.

EXHIBIT A

While giving a last check on our coursework 5 minutes before it goes into the hands of Cambridge

Zara: (pointing to the name label on a prep board) Iz, that's my name right?

(Izyanti reads: Kok Dengyun Zara)

Me: Yes Zara, that is your name. NOW GET YOUR O.C.D BUTT TO THERAPY NOWWWWWW!

Okay fine, I didn't quite say the last bit but I did give her the Look! Right Zara, that look?

So while waiting for Kenneth's truck to arrive, the rest of us decide to explore the wilderness that is Margaret Drive.



We frolicked on fields, poked about mimosa patches and hopefully looked for four-leafed clovers for A Levels luck!



Here's a picture of our art room that we have grown really fond of. In a good mood, we call it cosy and um, a rustic terrace if one were to consider the open space downstairs where the easel-painters work to be an extension of the art room.

But when the electricity goes bafflingly bonkers, it is just stuffy and REALLY sucks.

As you can see, the two walls in view in the photograph are exact width of the room. The windows seen make one end of it, and where the picture was taken is the door. THIS MEANS IT IS VERY SMALL.

And here we have with us our art teacher, Mrs Haworth! Who, as much as she frustrates us, probably saved us. We like her a lot secretly, although sometimes we have little jokes about her British mannerisms but HECK, that happens to all teachers! It's an occupational hazard.



Okay. So now that's done, I'm off to grapple with the next art assignment due next thursday HURRAH!!!