Friday, February 26, 2010

A Parody of Ke$ha's Tik Tok For Teacher Trainees

Wake up in the morning feeling damn so sleepy
Grab my record book, I'm out to school, with lessons so crappy
Before I leave, wash my teeth, grab a packet of snack
'Coz when I leave for my school, I might not come back

I'm talking students under my nose, nose
Marker pen ink on my clothes, clothes
Boys blowing up the class, class
Girls looking at you like a damn bitch
Turning the class into parties
Thinking they can get off so easy

Please stop, make them stop
Please let me have a rest tonight
Imma fight till I can finally sleep tight
Tik tok on the clock
But the workload don't stop no,

No no no no, no no no no!

Please stop, make this stop
Please let me have a rest tonight
Imma fight till I can finally sleep tight
Tick tock on the clock
But the workload don't stop no,

No no no no, no no no no!

Got much to care in the world, so I really need that beer
Ain't got no money in my pocket, will need to steal I fear
And now the teachers are lining up, cause they heard you are new
So they can give you crap and all their crap specially for you

I'm talking bout teachers giving me their junk, junk
Students acting like a punk, punk
Gonna take some pills before i go kerplunk, plunk
Now now we just do this for the damn marks, marks
Or our mentor will shoot us down, down
Mentor shoots us down

Please stop, make them stop
Please let me have a rest tonight
Imma fight till I can finally sleep tight
Tik tok on the clock
But the workload don't stop no,

No no no no, no no no no!

Please stop, make them stop
Please let me have a rest tonight
Imma fight till I can finally sleep tight
Tik tok on the clock
But the workload don't stop no,

No no no no, no no no no!

Mentor, please help me out
Don't break me down
My heart it pounds
Yeah, you got me

Mentor, please help me out
Don't break me down
My heart it pounds
Yeah, you got me

With my knees down
Please help me out
Please help me out

Now the bitchin' don't stop till I walk in

Please stop, make this stop
Please let me have a rest tonight
Imma fight till I can finally sleep tight
Tik tok on the clock
But the workload don't stop no,

No no no no, no no no no!

This is for the His or Her Royal Highnesses who makes our practical miserable

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

The bitches in my school...

...are not bitches after all!

So this post won't be THAT interesting anymore. Sorry.

They're nice. Or, they are probably playing nice.

But then I'm yet to meet my 4 Prinsip Akaun girls. The girls mentioned above are from 4 Science 1.

And these 16 year olds are horny. They asked if I have brothers. And when I said I have a 16 year old brother, they squealed with delight. I bet his Facebook is flooded with friend requests now. Not that I wrote my brother's full name on the white board.

Then they asked for my Facebook and blog. Luckily I made my geeked out 'teacher' account so I can let them add me there. The problem now is with my blog. Sooner or later they'll find me out. Sooner or later they'll know I'm less of a teacher in the real world, but not like I was behaving like a real teacher anyway.

I actually laughed out loud when they greeted me, "Good morning, Miss!"

LAUGHED OUT LOUD. Damn it. I failed the numero uno principle of first time entering class.

I just hoped they didn't notice as I put my bitch face back on.

And I broke other rules, like, saying a few Malay words, using Manglish, laughing with them etc2.

Simply put, I could not bring myself to act like a professional teacher. I can't even fake it.

These nice kids would probably be as corrupted as me soon.

But that doesn't mean you have to worry about sending your kids to my school next time... I promise. :D

'Coz the real teaching hasn't begun yet.

Monday, February 22, 2010

Amanda's First Day of School (as a fucking teacher)

  1. Woke up at five in the morning.
  2. Went to school at 6.30 a.m. It was fucking dark as night.
  3. Reached school, the school didn't know we were coming. We didn't know what to do, they didn't know what to do.
  4. So we were just asked to attend their morning assembly. We sat on stage. Teachers seat on stage. We're like fucking teachers who can seat on stage during assembly.
  5. We were lost sheeps being thrown to even lost shepherds.
  6. We now have to wake up at five in the morning. Every effing week day.
  7. Our timetable was a freakin' mess till one hour before school ends.
  8. And school ends at 2.30 p.m. It's a two session school for God's sake.
  9. Students greet me "Selamat pagi cikgu!"
  10. *shuddered*
  11. Students great me "Assalamulaikum cikgu!"
  12. *...fuck*

It was unreal.

Friday, February 19, 2010

43 hours left to go to school. No fucking kidding.

In my previous posts, you've read about me going into depression as the new year rolled in, listing the pros and cons of going to a girls school, going all poetic about my supervising lecturer who's out for my blood, freaking out about going for my teaching practical, mentally and emotionally preparing myself to be a super suck up in school and needing a little pick-me-up for the ordeal.

In that order.

And y'all are well informed too that I never wanted to be a teacher.

And you can see it in my university course application form, six years ago. There were eight blanks to fill out the courses of my choice. All I wanted was to have a fancy schmancy intelligent-sounding job. Whether I had the brains or interest to do it was something I should worry in the middle of the semester. So my FIRST five choices were fucking ENGINEERING courses. And yet I just don't get physics. I just like the sound of being a kick ass female engineer. That's it.

And so my LAST three choices were well, you guessed it. The TESL courses. 'Coz my parents made me. I would've filled out course names that I don't know shit about and can't pronounce.

Isn't fate twisted?

So that's why I believe, as douchy as it may sound, I DIDN'T choose to be a teacher. The profession CHOSE me.

So, in 43 hours, I'm going to find out whether the profession made a right choice and whether I am cut out to be a teacher and not some biochempetroleumkinesicsmechanicscivilstructureijustmadeabomb engineer.

Here I come bitches.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

The Creation of Adam...The Parodies

I'm sure most of you have came across this picture before.

If you're a fan of Renaissance art or you've googled Michelangelo before, you'd know that this is a painting on the Sistine Chapel ceiling in the Vatican entitled The Creation of Adam by Michelangelo 'bout 500 years ago.

And that it is not a homoerotic painting of a man with a small peen.

As stated in the title, micro peen man is Adam, and he is reaching for God's hands. The composition of the painting goes like this:

God is depicted as an elderly bearded man wrapped in a swirling cloak while Adam, on the lower left, is completely naked. God's right arm is outstretched to impart the spark of life from his own finger into that of Adam, whose left arm is extended in a pose mirroring God's, a reminder that man is created in the image and likeness of God (Gen 1:26). Another point is that Adam's finger and God's finger are not touching. It gives the appearance that God, the giver of life, is reaching out to Adam and Adam is receiving. The pink backdrop behind God is in the shape of a human brain.

This painting is one of the most famous painting in the world, and painted by world renowned painter, Michelangelo.

And when you're famous, all sorts of parody of it flood the net and pop culture. That's my favourite part about the painting.

Adam losing in a rock-paper-scissors game with God. Duh. God knew what he was thinking.

Adam playing snooker with God. But looks like God has the upper hand. Duh. He is God.

Adam serving God. Beer.

Adam watching er, God TV.

Adam reaching for LOLcat God. Trust me, it's going to get weirder.

Adam...Is that Chuck Norris? And is that a creature from Pokemon? Told you, weirder.

Cookie Monster Adam.

The Creation of Homer Simpson.

My brothers and I have our version of the painting too.

We call this the Recreation of Adam.

I hope Michelangelo can rest in peace.

Friday, February 12, 2010

Chinese New Year Valentine's Perfect Trap

This year, we have a double celebration - Chinese New Year and Valentine's Day.

So this year would be the only time when you can make your boyfriend meet your parents (finally!) under the pretense that it is just any other first day of Chinese New Year where he can eat sweets, an overdose of oranges and if your parents like him, he'll get angpows. No pressure. At all.

HOWEVER, it is a Valentine's Day, the day when you're suppose to profess how much you love each other with ridiculously expensive gifts and even talk about going to 'the next level'. And you are as serious as shit about the 'meeting the parents'. I mean, you're biological clock is ticking and you just want to get that bastard to propose to you. But his dick shrivels every time you mention about meeting your parents and he'll just say, "I'll meet them when the time is right."

Well ladies, THIS is the right time. He won't even realise he has fallen into your wonderful trap. It is after all, just a Chinese New Year celebration. Coupled with a 'how serious are you with my daughter' and a 'are you financially stable to marry her' questions.

Happy Chinese New Year and Happy Valentine's Day people! :D

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Chicken Soup: Made of rubbish, yet makes your life feel less like one

Six years ago, when I was a clueless teenager fresh out of school, I was given the opportunity to study to become an English teacher, though it has never, ever crossed my mind that I would end up as one someday. I was the pain in the ass smart Alec student, so I knew what I should NOT be when I grow up. However, karma is a bigger bitch than I am.

I was then instructed to register myself at Maktab Perguruan Gaya, KK. I met my new equally clueless classmates, got grilled by seniors during orientation week, fell in love with my new friends right away and even went for a pseudo-BTN thingy. I was even convinced by my friends to be part of a cultural dance performance. My friends from school would've died laughing if they knew I'm in a cultural dance group. And they'd crawled out of their grave just to get humoured again. Eye candies were in abundance too. All in all, this new college life would've been awesome.

Then came a messenger who asked me to go meet this HEP guy.

"You need to go to Maktab Perguruan TI, JB to do this course. By next week. UITM, the twinning partner of MPGaya recognises you as a non-bumiputera. And as you know, UITM only accepts Bumis."

Well sir, I didn't know that. And you just fucked up my coulda been beautiful life.

I have to do the meet-and-greet-fitting-in-awkwardly all over again. And I've never been more than 500KM away from home.

I hated the change so much. I was even hoping the plane would fall and crash before we could reach JB. That bad.

Adjusting to a totally new environment was hard. It took time to be able to relate with the 'new' people from 'the other side', and things didn't become easier when you're "different". And I missed home so, so much.

So I figured I needed some Chicken Soup lovin'.

And soon, I was fine. And life couldn't be more awesome.

A month ago, I felt the same anxiety and fear I felt six years ago.

So I figured what I need now is a different kind of chicken soup.

I'm no longer a collegian but a teacher.

Like I said, karma's a bitch.

Monday, February 8, 2010

Goodbye Little Miss Wicked, Hello Little Miss Nice

So today is the last day of our semester, and tomorrow will be our finals.

Our last semester is apparently as short as 4 weeks and we have only two subjects to take. So after much studying the same crap over and over again and cramming it all in for 4 weeks, the end has finally come.

Although technically it is NOT the end of the semester as we will be spending the rest of the semester sloughing away into school related depression, it does feel like the end. We had a little informal unplanned lunch and dinner and we dined like we'll never see each other again.

And that means a new fucking beginning is gonna start soon.

I've met my practical lecturer who has sworn to see me fail, and surprisingly (or not), she was suspiciously...nice. Maybe she'd forgotten how I deliberately irritated her like shit. Maybe her new year's resolution is to forgive and forget. Or maybe, this could be a fucking psychological trap. She'll get me when I least expect it. I'd have to watch my shoulders every second. Any time now. Any time now. Any time now. Any...Oh my, now that is a brilliant mindfuck revenge.

Either way, I'll have to be Little Miss Suck Up and Little Miss Smiley Face Who'll Accept Any Retarded School Related Responsibility for the next three months.

And since it's like the end of the semester for us, I'm gonna miss my college a lot. The bashing part, that is.

So this would probably my last time I'm running my mouth uninsured. (Or not. Yeah, probably not.)

Buku Rancangan Pengajaran Harian

What motivating and cheery way to send us off to school with a dull, shitty coloured daily teaching planning book!

This is me letting out all wickedness in me now to become Little Miss Nicest Teacher Trainee On Earth With An Overdose of Sunshine Whom Older Teachers Can Walk All Over for the next three months.

People, please pray for me so I can pretend to be nice and not break down and burn a school property.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Synesthesia Super Powers!

Have you ever heard of people who could taste music, hear colours and read in colours?

I haven't.

Till I watched one episode of Heroes Season 4.

It seems like a Hollywood generated ability tailored for the popularity-dying and perplexing-full-of-shit Heroes TV series, but it actually is a real condition experienced by 1 to 200 people, to 1 to 100 000 people.

It is called synesthesia.

And it is AWESOME.

Synesthesia is a condition in which one sense (for example, hearing) is simultaneously perceived as if by one or more additional senses such as sight. Another form of synesthesia joins objects such as letters, shapes, numbers or people's names with a sensory perception such as smell, color or flavor. The word synesthesia comes from two Greek words, syn (together) and aisthesis (perception). Therefore, synesthesia literally means "joined perception."

So like I've mentioned before, if you have synesthesia, you'd probably taste strawberries in your mouth upon listening to Taylor Swift's Love Story, see the Aurora Borealis during a jamming session or learn to memorize alphabets by remembering the colours associated with them.

It may seem like douchy ability, I mean, don't you wanna have this ability to brag? I would, in a heart beat. I'd probably write a douchy book too.

According to Cytowic, synesthetic perceptions are:

Involuntary: synesthetes do not actively think about their perceptions; they just happen.

Projected: rather than experiencing something in the "mind's eye," as might happen when you are asked to imagine a color, a synesthete often actually sees a color projected outside of the body.

Durable and generic: the perception must be the same every time; for example, if you taste chocolate when you hear Beethoven's Violin Concerto, you must always taste chocolate when you hear it; also, the perception must be generic -- that is, you may see colors or lines or shapes in response to a certain smell, but you would not see something complex such as a room with people and furniture and pictures on the wall.

Memorable: often, the secondary synesthetic perception is remembered better than the primary perception; for example, a synesthete who always associates the color purple with the name "Laura" will often remember that a woman's name is purple rather than actually remembering "Laura."

Emotional: the perceptions may cause emotional reactions such as pleasurable feelings.

These are the few lucky people who have synesthesia:

Ray McAllister sees music: "A bright flash of lavender getting dimmer and dimmer; now we're going over a pink staircase, some lavender violins."

Carol Crane feels music: "I always feel guitars on my ankles and violins on my face."

For Carol Steen, every letter has a color: "Z is the color of beer, a light ale."

And James Wannerton tastes words: "New York is, it's runny eggs. London is mashed potato, but it's extremely lumpy mashed potatoes."

In short, having synesthesia feels like your 5 sensors are all fucked up when you're incredibly high.

Fucked up 5 sensors = SUPER POWERS!


Wednesday, February 3, 2010

The day of reckoning is near. I have a letter to prove this insanity is real.

I never thought the day of reckoning would actually come.

We were given a briefing about what to do and not to do upon entering the school. And also, how to survive that long, gruesome 13 weeks.

But they didn't told us what to do in case we shit our pants.

We were just reminded time and time again to wipe everyone's ass instead.

That's the ONLY way to leave the school, alive. Broken maybe, slightly psychotic too perhaps, but nevertheless, ALIVE.

It's right after the Chinese New Year hols, people.


And there's no way of stopping it.


I feel like crapping just even with the thought of it.



Monday, February 1, 2010

Second Pregnant Man. Somebody please jab my eyes.

The world was turned upside down inside out (beats me how that goes) when we met the first pregnant man, Thomas Beatie.

World, welcome your second one, Scott Moore.


See, I just don't get it.

Scott and his husband were both females with 36DDD breasts.

Okay, that was me digressing. 36DDD!!!


So once upon a time, they were two girls who feel like they were born in the wrong body. So you'd think they'd dig pussies. Because of course, they feel like they have invisible balls and have huge imaginary erection upon seeing boobs.

But that's not the case!

Coz all they wanted was to be men! So they don't get turned on by the vajayjay? But instead, they like to see hunkilicious men?

So what does that make them? How can I unfairly and stereotypically label them? Let's do the maths here.

Men who dig women are straight, and vice versa.

Men who dig other men are called gays. Women who dig other women are lesbians.

But if a woman who wants to be a man and digs other men, that would make her gay, not a lesbian. But wouldn't her gayness be canceled out 'coz she'd actually just be a straight woman who loves a disco stick? 'Cept now she's in a man's body?

I'm so confused.

And here's another question to ponder. A possible reason for a woman to be dying to be a man is because she could escape her traditionally and socially dictated roles and norms, especially the part where she has to be the bearer and nurturer of the child.

Now that Scott and Thomas have literally shed that role, why on earth do this still wanna go through womanly labour pains? Haven't they successfully became meat eating beer guzzling testosterone driven men?

I no get it.