| Your Anti Climactic Fortune |
 Deep into your future, I forsee: An itch you can't scratch |
Oh well, sigh.
In Memory of Alois Alzheimer is about as interesting as One Flesh, if not, considerably much more impactful. I love the last stanza.
I'm gonna sleep early today!
And my father is complaining about the teachers who have started to call in sick already. (Before I had to fix the "My Gmail's all in Hebrew!" problem.) I asked Esther where the postcard box was, and she said Isn't it that G&H thing? and I said No I think we've changed it now, so she got up and found the old biscotti box that we transferred the postcards to and I said Oh I remember now! And we were happy. But such contentment is usually transient because my throat started to tickle and my dad said It's 10.15 already but I thought No not really, it's only 10.09, so I left it at that and thus forfeited an opportunity to strike up a small conversation about needing to change the batteries for the clock, which I presume would lead to a discussion on how changing Samuel's watch (that he had been wearing since 2005, by the way) would be quite a good idea.
Am I so bored? Do I have to resort to mentioning such insignificant bits of information henceforth? I'm just tired of learning things that I don't feel much for. Doesn't this defeat the whole purpose of education? Why would I be so concerned with the freaking trigo identities when I'm (i) not planning to be an engineer nope absolutely not it's out of the question and (ii) more interested in the liberal arts and (iii) angry at having to conform to our strictly achievement-centric society and my unfortunate birthplace in a nation so hung on its meritocratic idealogy. Woe. Disdain. I have to talk about my recent attempt at lucid dreaming last night. I was singing Akita Ondo for choir practice that seemed to have caused my conductor to cry tears of joy, and I went home to discover that my grandmother had hidden an entire house away from us at the back of the block of flats, and then I was invited by the President of Indonesia to Jakarta, and the private jet did a figure-of-eight in the air and landed in the middle of the highway. Then I found myself in a bead museum, wondering when I would get home, when a teacher appeared next to me and told me that the plane was leaving at 2.30 am. Weird, huh. I told my sister about my dream and she said Why are you always dreaming about such odd things, I hardly get any dreams now.
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