The day before yesterday I went on this picnic with the rest of my grade to this resort that’s so remotely located that I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a colony of Martians on the way there. And it’s weird enough that my school decides that we need a day off for recreational reasons when the Boards are just around the corner. But anyway, I’m not complaining because I honestly did need a little break. I admit that I was looking forward to it, albeit not without a certain amount of apprehension—that I’d lose more time than I can afford—but in the end I don’t regret that I went there. I mean, I had more fun than I could have asked for. Took a shitload of photographs of my friends, classmates, and the place in general—it was really good: green everywhere and sporadically populated, with the occasional person outside of our school invariably being a member of staff of that resort. I reached home at 8 o’clock, and I still can’t believe I wasted a whole fucking day. That puts me so much behind in the theoretical schedule I made for myself. Meaning I’ll have to overwork myself.
And tomorrow that lame excuse for a physics teacher is going to take a class, so I’ll have to be at school by eight. I’m so not looking forward to being tortured with 4-5 straight hours of his physics. Believe me, in his hands, physics is not physics anymore. One of the other toppers in my grade and, uh, a person toward whom I bear a remote sense of rivalry scored only 33/80. I was not taken aback—I was bizarrely, unpleasantly shocked to the depths of my nervous system. But it turned out that I didn’t have much to worry about, because only that evening (as the day I learned how much he scored) I called up the physics teacher and asked him how much I scored, and he replied: 67/80. That’s a relief, though I shouldn’t be comfortable just yet. From the day that pseudo-intellectual asshole stepped into that school my grades in physics have plummeted alarmingly. The only consolation I have now is that the mistakes I made are ostensibly ‘careless’. So I suppose this sort of cures the mental injury that the physics exam visited on me.
Between yesterday and today, I finished over a hundred pages of Alistair MacLean’s ‘The Guns of Navarone’. I started it sometime last year, and I have seriously no idea why I haven’t been reading it for so long. It’s brilliantly written, and the action scenes are so gripping that you’d feel as though you were actually in them. I was initially averse to War novels in general, but I think I can make an exception for MacLean’s books: they’re simply astounding. The next time I go to the bookstore (which is only after the Exams) I will stock up on them so that my summer doesn’t get boring.
That’s right. I’m so impatient for summer to arrive that I sometimes wish the Boards were never even there.
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