Fuck, I'm frustrated.
About what? I don't know exactly.
But OLSH is a shithole.
I feel like the Year 12s, and a couple of year 11s, are the only decent people left; we're a tight bunch, and apart from the typical catfight between the proverbial few, we've stuck together pretty well. Everyone knows everybody else. Got problems with homework? There's always someone to help you. We were given the Senior Campus as 'our place'; ours to look after, ours to nurture, ours to protect. Last year, we did that pretty well. This year, I think things have changed.
Is it so hard to fucking put an Easy Mac wrapper/container in the bin? Is it so hard to not leave fucking noodles in the sink, ready to go down the drain? Is it so hard to NOT get easy mac powder on the fucking tea towel? Our Common Room is an absolute hovel. We all know who 'rules' the common room, and personally, I don't think it's that group. It's others, who have no idea about keeping clean and tidy. Fucking pick up after yourselves, you're not five years of age anymore. The bedroom that I'm sitting in right now is spotless, and it usually stays spotless, for a reason. Clean habitat = clean mind for me. Junk will never get me anywhere. Now, I understand that some people may feel better with mess around them, but it's never been that way for me. Just like the Senior Campus. Every time I walk into the Common Room, I have an itching to pick up a cloth, some detergent, and a tea towel and just wash and scrub every dirty plate, bowl and piece of cutlery can find. But I won't. Something holds me back, and it shits me off because I'm always worrying about what other people think of me, and my appearance. That blush on my cheeks? Natural. Skin? Natural, usually don't need foundation. Lips? Okay, I cheat a little, David Jones' liptwist is a Godsend. Other than that, I don't really try. Should I? I don't know.
Back to the Senior Campus. Don't fucking stand in the crowded canteen line unless you fucking want something. Your friend will be fine by herself. You will be fine not one meter away from her. No need to buy out the canteen, either.
And another thing. A particular teacher of mine has no concept of 'drafting', I am completely sure of it. She scribbles all over my drafts, expects me to read her writing, and then blasts me and about three others if we dare to hand our stuff up late. Now, of course, it's not the same for others. One girl handed up her fucking task that was due in week 5 of the first term at the end of last term.
Certain Year 11s: You are disgusting, please wash your mouth out with some soap. Talking about how you are 'wet' for someone else does not make you popular; in fact, it makes you look like a slut. Seeing you call your friends 'sluts', 'whores', and 'hoes' on FB like they were terms of endearment does not help your case. Put your Mean Girls bible away. Please.
Mel, Mai, Toni, Tuyen etc: If you ever read this, please know I'm not talking about you.
Oh dear, I probably sound like an absolute bitch, and I really don't fucking mean to be. Honest. At school, I'm shy. I swear. I'm the shy redhead with the Slavic doll-looks and the high-pitched voice when spoken to.
Mum's playing Richard Marx, and I feel like crying a bit. But I almost never cry.