Ah yes, the first paper of the prelims begins tomorrow. The first interval of any event normally becomes the tone setter for the entire period. I've answered questions intelligently and failed, wrote out of topic and passed, and I've done papers in a manner similar to that of a barnyard animal and managed to not fail. And the strange thing is that the trend continues for the rest of the papers, chinese notwithstanding.
Let's just hope the GP paper was a minor blip in the plans. If it isn't, well, I can stuff some grubs into my mouth, smell my armpits and go find a banana, since it would prove that I'm an tropical primate with about as much capacity to make intelligent decisions as Beyonce. Her last name is Know-les for a reason.
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"It's too hard!"
These would be words you'd expect to hear from a woman leftover from the Victorian Era working at an ice cream parlour, and even then, the term "it" would be ambigious, and you wouldn't be sure whether she was referring to the ice cream, the act of scooping the ice cream, or making enough money to buy catnip for the 200 cats she has in the old house on the top of the hill.
However, these words could also be uttered by a Frenchman trying to squeeze an orange, a blonde attempting primary school maths or Dracula taking a bite out of R2D2 and getting a mouthful of microchips and wires.
Different people have different measurements of difficulty and varying thresholds of tolerance. Mine is limited to traveling within a 2m radius from my bed, which should explain why everyday seems like such a struggle.
What's yours?
Let's just hope the GP paper was a minor blip in the plans. If it isn't, well, I can stuff some grubs into my mouth, smell my armpits and go find a banana, since it would prove that I'm an tropical primate with about as much capacity to make intelligent decisions as Beyonce. Her last name is Know-les for a reason.
---
"It's too hard!"
These would be words you'd expect to hear from a woman leftover from the Victorian Era working at an ice cream parlour, and even then, the term "it" would be ambigious, and you wouldn't be sure whether she was referring to the ice cream, the act of scooping the ice cream, or making enough money to buy catnip for the 200 cats she has in the old house on the top of the hill.
However, these words could also be uttered by a Frenchman trying to squeeze an orange, a blonde attempting primary school maths or Dracula taking a bite out of R2D2 and getting a mouthful of microchips and wires.
Different people have different measurements of difficulty and varying thresholds of tolerance. Mine is limited to traveling within a 2m radius from my bed, which should explain why everyday seems like such a struggle.
What's yours?
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