ahh. holidays. the scholastic grant of a fortnight's hiatus from the routine 29.75 hour week.
free from the deprivation of sleep and morning torpor NOT caused the late nights, but the early mornings. free from the pre-9am lethargy which seems to plague everybody, evident in their apathetic expressions and need to listen to ear-poppingly loud music, as if the sound of an eletric guitar rattling their cerebelum will kick start the mind, and the beat of a drum will defillbrilate their heart. free from the need to walk up two flights of stairs, and another set down, in the early morning rush to form room.
free from the need to oath the words "here", as a sign of your presence, through your blazer sleeve and arm, while you stand resting against the wall, arms propped up against it, with your head cradled in the circle made by your arms, as if you are getting ready for an aeroplane crash.free from the delurium which causes you to ask your friend "which room are we in next?", only to ask the same question five seconds later.
free from the delirium which causes you to scribe a "2" in a sudoku box, when there is clearly around a 2 in there. free from the lack of phalangeal dexterity, caused by the deprivation of sleep (see above), causing you to write the letter "D" instead of a "P", or the letter "a", instead of the number "9". or, pertaining to the sudoku, write a "2", instead of a "1" (i write my ones just like they are written), making you believe its a 2 when performing the routine cross-checks, and by cause-effect, fucking all of your numbers up.
free from the need to transcribe notes on films and differential equations from the board, with an overwhelming confidence in the teacher's capacity as a teacher, that you have switched on DMA inside your brain; your eyes draw in the information, the electrical signals shooting through your optic nerve, entirely bypassing the brain, and going straight into any one of the 1300 nerve endings on each of your finger tips.then. then. then. realise that he has put a minus instead of a plus in the equation, and realise that he's done it wrong the whole time. free from the need to listen to the incessant droning of teachers about how: a specific camera angle somehow creates this abstraction about the character; how dy/dx = dy/du x du/dx;how you can use your fingers, pivoted about their joints to form a shape like a child's imitation of a gun, to help you determine the force, magnetic field and current of a magnet; how calories are not only in the food you eat, but even the water you drink (!!!); or, in the case of my methods teacher, how magnificent his day was.
free from the need to dodge arrogant year 10s in the corridors between periods, or intentionally bump into them for no reason at all apart from wanting to bash one of them up. free from the need to squint all the time, to make sure you haven't missed out on reciprocating a gesture of greeting and recognition, which would otherwise make them feel momentarily annoyed.
free from the need to hike back up the incline to south yarra station, feeling ever so slowly the the concrete give the pain, caused by having 1000 students step on it that morning, back to you, as a form of revenge; revenge personified. free from the late afternoon feeling of lethargy having re-manifested itself into your legs and back, and most strongly, the mind.
free from the almost pseudo-requirements of homework imposing on your ability to rest, gather information from television like how to open up a person's entire body just to find a bullet obviously located in its position by the entry wound it left behind it, and mingle with friends in an msn party.
free from the after-effects of a night spent catching up on what 5 x 5 equals, after having thought it was equal to 15. free from the nights spent awake in bed wondering about the structural formula of an ingredient on your HFC aerosol canister of hairspray.
free from the cycle which repeats itself five times a week, ten weeks a term.
free from the deprivation of sleep and morning torpor NOT caused the late nights, but the early mornings. free from the pre-9am lethargy which seems to plague everybody, evident in their apathetic expressions and need to listen to ear-poppingly loud music, as if the sound of an eletric guitar rattling their cerebelum will kick start the mind, and the beat of a drum will defillbrilate their heart. free from the need to walk up two flights of stairs, and another set down, in the early morning rush to form room.
free from the need to oath the words "here", as a sign of your presence, through your blazer sleeve and arm, while you stand resting against the wall, arms propped up against it, with your head cradled in the circle made by your arms, as if you are getting ready for an aeroplane crash.free from the delurium which causes you to ask your friend "which room are we in next?", only to ask the same question five seconds later.
free from the delirium which causes you to scribe a "2" in a sudoku box, when there is clearly around a 2 in there. free from the lack of phalangeal dexterity, caused by the deprivation of sleep (see above), causing you to write the letter "D" instead of a "P", or the letter "a", instead of the number "9". or, pertaining to the sudoku, write a "2", instead of a "1" (i write my ones just like they are written), making you believe its a 2 when performing the routine cross-checks, and by cause-effect, fucking all of your numbers up.
free from the need to transcribe notes on films and differential equations from the board, with an overwhelming confidence in the teacher's capacity as a teacher, that you have switched on DMA inside your brain; your eyes draw in the information, the electrical signals shooting through your optic nerve, entirely bypassing the brain, and going straight into any one of the 1300 nerve endings on each of your finger tips.then. then. then. realise that he has put a minus instead of a plus in the equation, and realise that he's done it wrong the whole time. free from the need to listen to the incessant droning of teachers about how: a specific camera angle somehow creates this abstraction about the character; how dy/dx = dy/du x du/dx;how you can use your fingers, pivoted about their joints to form a shape like a child's imitation of a gun, to help you determine the force, magnetic field and current of a magnet; how calories are not only in the food you eat, but even the water you drink (!!!); or, in the case of my methods teacher, how magnificent his day was.
free from the need to dodge arrogant year 10s in the corridors between periods, or intentionally bump into them for no reason at all apart from wanting to bash one of them up. free from the need to squint all the time, to make sure you haven't missed out on reciprocating a gesture of greeting and recognition, which would otherwise make them feel momentarily annoyed.
free from the need to hike back up the incline to south yarra station, feeling ever so slowly the the concrete give the pain, caused by having 1000 students step on it that morning, back to you, as a form of revenge; revenge personified. free from the late afternoon feeling of lethargy having re-manifested itself into your legs and back, and most strongly, the mind.
free from the almost pseudo-requirements of homework imposing on your ability to rest, gather information from television like how to open up a person's entire body just to find a bullet obviously located in its position by the entry wound it left behind it, and mingle with friends in an msn party.
free from the after-effects of a night spent catching up on what 5 x 5 equals, after having thought it was equal to 15. free from the nights spent awake in bed wondering about the structural formula of an ingredient on your HFC aerosol canister of hairspray.
free from the cycle which repeats itself five times a week, ten weeks a term.
