SAT scores came out today.
I did under-par in some ways. I got an 800 in math, which I’m proud of; but I would have nearly beat myself up if it was any less. Perfect score in math is a given. Then I got 760 in critical reading, which was a pleasant surprise. I’m usually pretty horrible in reading sections. I was disappointed in my Writing grade though. I received a 700. Mere 700. I usually do very very well in writing, especially the grammar section. It’s either I messed up the essay pretty badly, or the multiple choice section (the section when my alarm rang twice in). Or both. I wouldn’t know until the 24th or something.
So overall, I got a 2260. It’s not bad. It’s not great either; a lot of the people in my school got above a 2300. But I’m content with my grade, and too afraid to take the test again. I might not do so well next time.
Well, this is one burden off my back. I have plenty more, but one less is definitely better. I have to start thinking about colleges, applications and scholarships. I’m on my way. Right now, the most important thing for me to work on is school grades and SAT II in Math level 2. Well—wish me luck!
Five days without having to wake up early and carry my heavy bag. Without the stress dragging me down and time pushing me along. Without the teachers, the students, the stairs and the pressure. With a lot of sleep.
I haven’t completely wasted it.
I did my math homework. I actually wrote my whole Physics paper. I did my history homework, and now I am working on future assignments. I almost completed the Questbridge application. I finished some books and watched movies, dramas and other films. I was cheated out of my money, twice. I laughed, I cried, I was hurt and overjoyed.
There are things I didn’t do that I wanted though. I didn’t even glance at my AP Bio homework due very, very soon. And it’s very, very long. I’m a little worried. but I can’t start it because I left my textbook at school (although that’s no excuse since I can always download the textbook). I didn’t write my Questbridge essay and I wonder if I ever will. I didn’t do some (most) of the math homework problems; just bs’ed the work. I didn’t finish the future history homework that I should do now because I need time to do my bio project. I didn’t study for SAT II Math Level 2 which I scored a mere 690 in the diagnostic.
All these things though, have to do with school. It plagues me even if I’m on break. It will plague me until I graduate college or medical school or however far I want to go for. They say it’s my decision. It isn’t really.
I did hang out though. I saw a few of my friends. It was alright. I was tired. But it was good to be out. For one single day out of a whole week.
I don’t even know anymore.
Everything’s just too much or too little sometimes. The fun has to end at some point. Because I would get bored of it sooner or later. I just hope it worked the opposite way with the boring stuff. But it doesn’t. It never does.
I’m having mixed feelings about going back to school. Going back to life detached from the past. Going somewhere that I don’t really belong in. Barely having time for anyone or anything. And it’s not my fault, they probably know it’s not my fault, it’s really nobody’s fault, it’s everyone’s fault, but in the end it doesn’t matter whose fault it is because the reality is that it takes me farther and farther away from the people I care about. Both physically and emotionally.
From all the work I have. No time to breathe…
And tomorrow, I have to stay at school until eight. That means I get home by 9~10. No dinner. Yeah, did I ever tell you guys how long it takes to do homework this term? Mm hmm. Four hours. What is my school trying to do to me?
It’s not really that hard a work anyways. And it’s only 10:10pm. And luckily, I don’t have to go to an ARISTA event tomorrow and stay in school until 8 (and get home and 10).
But I have four very important tests this week and two projects due.
I want some down time. You know? After a while, I get tired of complaining too. I just want to rest.
This weekend I really worked nonstop. Really. I need rest. I want to sleep. And hang out with friends. But who has times these days? Nobody.
It makes me feel lonely and bored at the same time.
So I found this site called Cramster, and it has the answers to questions in my Physics textbook (not others though, somewhat unfortunately…).
As for physics, I usually have to think a while and really understand it before I get the problem. But I’m not doing that now. Mostly because my teacher this term doesn’t teach anything. And I’m not just complaining. I’m really good at physics, if I do say so myself—at least, as of last term when I had a different teacher.
My homeworks are nearly impossible these days. And since I’ve discovered this site, I keep copying the solutions. I try to understand it, but sometimes I really don’t. I know I’ll definitely learn these things before a test, but I’m too lazy to do it now.
And it makes me feel like cheating.
I keep crying and my mom’s stressed too. She keeps on yelling at me. I really want to just.. I don’t know.I really hate this right now I hate school and I hate various extra-important tests that I will have this week. I hate college I hate everything just right now as of this moment. I try to understand but I can’t and I don’t want to. I can’t express it in words I really can’t. Usually I calm down by writing but I don’t want to curse right now. So no matter how long a paragraph I write, it’s pointless because my anger only builds up and up and up and I hate everything so much I want to sleep.
It’s coming… It’s already spring and my junior year just… blew over me. I knew this would happen. Time always goes by so fast when you look at the past. I was new in P.S.169 in fourth grade. And now my Junior year at Stuyvesant is coming to a close.
I’ll get results back from the Weill Cornell Youth Scholars Program in no time. Hopefully, I would get accepted then I would spend a half of my summer vacation studying away. But it’ll be more relaxed. No stress, not like school. It would be everything that I would ever want to know, and I would have so much fun just as I do in my AP Bio class.
So summer’s coming. Three months left, barely. Two and a half. June doesn’t even count. So a month and a half. And I’ll be a senior. A senior in high school. It’s just terrible, isn’t it? Then that year would also pass by fast. Then I’ll be in college, hopefully MIT, or equivalent. Hopefully not my safety school. Hopefully.
Then I’ll graduate and I might go to Korea or be too much of a coward to do so so I’ll just become a pediatrician like I’ve always said I wanted to (but never really did). Then I’ll work my ass off in medical school (wouldn’t it be great to get into Harvard medical school?) and then waste three, four years of my life working as an under-paid overworked resident at some hospital. Then I might keep working there as a real doctor just until I earn money enough to set up my own place and hire my own nurses to help me out and it’ll be just like the pediatrician I go to right now. A nice little residential home-office.
By then I would be married and have kids and they’ll go to college while I work my ass off then they’ll work their asses off and we’ll all work except hopefully my parents who I wish I would have enough money to buy a house for and let them live in peace with dogs and a backyard and a little swing in the porch and visit often to keep them lively with my children’s children. And then they’ll unfortunately at some point pass away and I might go live in that house with my husband and my grandchildren would visit me or maybe I’ll live with my brother and his spouse and his grandchildren would visit us too.
And then we all die.
After all, that’s how it ends, right?
We all die.
Last Tuesday, people in my school sent each other flowers. It cost them a dollar or maybe two for one. Almost nobody in my homeroom got a flower. I got one, only because I would always complain to this girl that I never get any flowers. She told me she got me one so I said I’ll get her one too but I never did. I felt bad.
But that’s not my point.
After tenth period that day, I found a discarded red carnation on the floor. It had no stem, just the flower, wide open and all ruffles. It must have been from this guy I know, who sat there—he had received maybe 10~15 flowers. It was from his buddies, as a joke. I wondered if I should pick up the flower. It was so beautiful and red. But sad. I didn’t want to discard it.
So I picked it up and it was beautiful in my hands. It was a sort of sad beauty. I don’t know why. It was just a flower. It was as much a flower as my white carnation. But it was a rouge beauty.
I didn’t want to take it home. I was afraid it might fall apart and disappear in the subway. It was too weak, too precious. So I hung it upside down inside my locker, the way you’re supposed to when you dry flowers. Drying flowers is good. They don’t fall apart. They last forever.
It was so lively inside my locker. So bright red. Soft to the touch, almost like flesh. I couldn’t stop staring at it. I made a wish. I wanted to make a wish to it every day. It was so beautiful.
Today I realized how much darker the flower has gotten. It had started to dry up. I stood there for a while. Nobody was in the hallway. I spoke to it, not to loud, not for anyone to hear but the flower.
“Are you okay?”
I was worried. It was drying up, just as I expected it to. But did the flower prefer that? Would it have wanted that?
And I was. for locking it up all day and all night, in my cramped little locker, in the darkness, all alone. Slowly drying out. Slowly having life and color sucked out of it wondrous ruffles. I enjoyed it. But I worried if the flower minded.
“Would you have liked me to take you home?”
I can see my white carnation right now. Next to my computer, in freshly changed water and plenty of light. It blossomed like crazy. The shy, innocent bridal gown opened up to me and it wasn’t so innocent anymore. It’s high up in the air, as if showing off all their beauty. It’s a little sickening to look at. The loss of its innocence.
I didn’t want that happening to my red beauty. I wanted it to stay shy and sad. It was pretty sad. Sad was beautiful. It hung its head in my locker, turning darker and darker and drying away.
Dear flower, you will not wither. You will keep your beauty. The white flower blossoms but it will wilt—and when it wilts the leaves from its high head will fall to the floor. Your leaves will not fall apart, it would have nowhere to drop on. You are denied water and light but you have me. You have my love. And you’ll have your inner beauty forevermore. I’m sorry for torturing you like this.
But you know what, dear flower?
You will always be beautiful.