Oh my gawd. 4 spelig erors in a just few paragraphs (albeit long ones). I say it's the weather that's to blame for the sudden language malfunction.
There's a literature test tomorrow and we're doing unseen poetry. I think I prefer unseen poetry rather than TKAM because factual errors are occasionally forgivable in unseen poetry, since it is unseen, afterall. I remember paying the too-harsh penalties in my first literature test when I added extra information that I forgot to mention was inferred and the toxic, deathly look that my lit teacher splashed along with my paper that appeared bleeding from the cut marks of a passionate educator. It felt like acid. Anyway, apart from such freak-accidents, literature is a wonderful subject and like it or not, there is an inherent sort of exclusivity that the lit class espouses. Superiority towards the other humanities subjects that don't have as much a weightage in the humanities scholarship as lit. The warm afterglow after finishing a 15-page essay. The very fact that you can show off stacks of foolscape paper industrial-stapled together and super-saturated with spidery handwriting to the point where it would seem ludicrous for the examiner to attempt to mark it. It's called Lit Pride and may be a good and bad thing, oh I don't know.
Oh yes; Andrea still insists that 2 years in Xinmin cannot be summed up by grunts and snorts but I'll save that reflective piece for later after SYF. We'll see what that can do to my reflections, anyway. And I still have the photos I took at the awesome dinner event yesterday but I'm charging my phone/camera now.
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