As I'm writing this, I've just gotten back from my 1st major test for my Zoology Lecture class this sem. And in simple terms, it went not well. For this test, I actually tried to study. Emphasis on try because I didn't go overboard with it, but I did study. I read through the material, although admittedly, I didn't finish. I tried to remember as many details as I can. I even woke up twice in the middle of the night to try to study some more. That's why, this morning, I wasn't feeling very jittery. I had a great morning, in fact. I wore a cute exercise outfit for my first class of the day, Yoga. My hair was up on a high pony-tail with a concealed clip under to give it an Ariana Grande look. The exercises today were admittedly challenging but I came out of it refreshed. So, when I headed to my test, which was the class after Yoga, I was feeling great, to be honest. Then, the test was handed out...
From feeling okay-ishly prepared, I quickly realised that I wasn't prepared, if at all. Most of the questions, as fate would have it, came from the part of the material I didn't get to focus much on. But, I didn't start feeling bad(?) I know right, it's a weird reaction, even for me. I was fine. I went through the test, accepted VERY quickly that I wasn't very prepared BUT also knew that it won't stop me from trying to answer the questions as best and as thoroughly as I can. And that I did.
And so, still surprisingly in high spirits, I went home. And so here I am now, on my "bed", ranting to you in hopes of dispelling my leftover energy as I wait for my takeout lunch to arrive and time to pass by until I have to go back to school for my next class. I'm in surprisingly high spirits. I don't feel despair about probably failing that test. And let me tell you, a certain version of myself in the past would be crying while watching YouTube right now because this is not the first test I've done not-so-well in since the sem started. So far my quizzes and tests are an average of high C+ and low B-- such a far-cry from my A+ studded high school career. But I am fine. And, I found myself saying something the old version of me would've haughtily never accepted before. i said, "Well, that was not-so-good but oh well, there's next time." "There's next time." I acknowledged the fact that there is a future because there is a next time. That, my friend, is character growth. As a Psychology student speaking, that, my friend, is the kind of growth mindset that will make Carol Dweck herself, proud.
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So here's the situation, I "received" a rose from a stranger but it is both mine and not mine. It is, in it's own right, a Schrödinger situation. Valentine's Day, a day I admit I dreaded a bit but have prepared myself enough to go through. I had just entered the room wherein I were to take my last class of the day then, I notice a single pale, pink rose lying on my table. Its stalk was rather short, compared to the ones I've seen around campus. And, there's no note. My friend, who sat beside me, also had one lying on her desk but hers was red and had a different wrapping. Seeing hers, I immediately assumed that it might've been from one of our mutual friends-- the same exact friend who has already ruined the surprise by informing us the previous day that he was going to send us flowers, that which I refused and expressly told him that he could save his money by not sending me any. So, I went through class, not questioning it further. Besides, who else would send me a flower? For anything, there are a very limited number of people who knew both the timing and location of my classes. They were my block class, that guy friend, and possibly one of my orgs (though the schedule that i sent them didn't contain my classroom numbers but technically if one is crafty, they could cross-reference it to the schedule of my blockmate who is also a member of the same org). Then came dismissals and luckily enough, we ran into that guy friend in the halls. The first thing I asked him was why he sent me a flower despite me telling him that he didn't have to, and that anyways, I was grateful. That's when he looked at me, confused, and with a deadpan face, said, "I didn't send you any flowers because you asked me not to." At that point, another friend of mine, started "ooooh-ing" and pointed out the possibility of a secret admirer. I, on the other hand, was thoroughly confused and could not think of any other explanation for the situation other than that guy friend to be lying and was actually the one who sent the flower even though he insists that he didn't. And it was a few moments after that when he said this: "Maybe, the person from the previous class who sat in your seat left that. or maybe, the delivery for that flower for that person came when he/she wasn't there and so nobody was able to receive it." Like dude, my man, why do you have to hurt me this way? That statement over there methodically struck down and burnt my very daintily-numbered self-esteem to smithereens like a cartoon man holding an umbrella up during a rainstorm. That statement effectively pierced through the mental shield I very carefully prepared especially for Valentine's Day with the ease of a warm knife through butter. And with that, so it stands, the mystery of this pale, pink rose. I don't know who sent it, and neither do I know for whom. Will I ever know? I'm yet to find out. All I know is that since I kept it anyways, it is both mine and not mine. It was both meant for me and not. It was both sent to me and not. It is Schrödinger's rose. It is No One's rose. . . . I'm intrigued. |
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![]() ![]() ![]() The cover artwork featured above is used with special permission from IG: @squackoud
Special hashtags to watch out for:*** the following are specialised blog entries that have no set schedule compared to the usual bi-weekly postings.
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#FreeThoughtFriday - a collection of 3AM thoughts for your collective amusement and might get you asking wtf?!
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