Honey! I'm hooome! (Part IV)

GodDAMN I was so ... so ... happy! WOOOHOOOO! I got in!

That's what my parents thought about me. Actually I *knew* I'd get in. Why? Because, remember this exam only counts for 50% of the final grade? Yeah, the other 50% is the average of the 5-8 grades, which, happily, was 9.52! =D

So with a 9.25 grade, I was sure to get in. My parents, though (especially my mom), were so goddamn agitated, it was like I still had 8.98, and couldn't sleep at night (or at least that's what I like to think). Me, I was calm as ever. No problems, no troubles ... exam? Feh, passed it with flying colours.

Of course, there were some friends of mine who were also scared shitless *winks at Madeline*. "Ohmigawd, what if I don't get in?! Oh noes! THE HORROR!!!" and stuff like that. Thing is, those who did *winks again* were the best in my class. Madeline here nailed the 27th (if I remember correctly) position on the entire county (which had like 3200 kids running for highschool). I made 464th. Not much, but good enough to get me where I want to.

And now I'm the "Grigore Moisil" National College. Gonna start the first day this friday (aka in two days). That is, if the professor stop boycotting the beginning of this school year (they *always* bitch and whine about their wages). And that's a "DUN DUN DUUUUN" I can't control.

Meh ... wouldn't if it's a good or a bad thing. The wisdom within myself tells me it's bad (we'll have to recuperate lost classes later), the kid in me tells me it's good (more free time! YAY!). It's a constant struggle between these two sides, which will go on for many years now on.

Death by calmness.

Honey! I'm hooome! (Part III)

Before I start, I just need to clear something up for you ignorants:

Cynthia: Question: What the hell is that test about? you make it sound so damn important
Khass: i donno what's the name in oz
Khass: it's an exam you have to take if you wanna go to highschool
Khass: it counts for 50% of the grade
Cynthia: Ah, we don't have it. lucky us :D
Khass: and making a high note is somewhat optional
Khass: but for me, who needed over 9
Khass: it was damn important

OK, back to work. All exams were sealed and the names we wrote on them were covered with a black paper so those who corrected them wouldn't see our names. This helps if you "tell" a corrector to be more ... indulgent with your grade. Well, this still kinda works, if you make a mark somewhere on the paper. Here it gets paranoid - you must absolutely NOT make ANY mark of ANY kind ANYWHERE on the paper, not even correct something, or else your exam will be rejected and you will lose ANY chance to go to highschool. Yeah, it's that paranoid. It scares the living cheater out of you.

But we did cheat. Well, at least I didn't cheat for me, but for others. I told/whispered them answers, sneaked small papers to them. Hell, I was da Masta' Informer in there. According to professors, this gets you rejected and spit on. According to me, this gets you moneyz, kissez and handshakes. Guys/Gals I never knew until that day still say "Hello!" on the street when they see me. =D

Now, back to those correctors. Yeah, they suck. Those (censored) of a (censored) had some (censored) up their (censored). Why? I needed a 9 to be a shoe-in into my targeted highschool (and informatics-specialized one; big surprise, eh?). But nooooo, those (censored) didn't like my writing, 'cause they gave me a (censored) 8.98 !!! I almost exploded with anger! 0.10 less points on my average and I would've ninja'd everybody there with my sneaker and my cell phone. But they didn't. It was fear, I'm telling ya. Fear!

So now I had to wait 2 weeks to wait to see if the repartition (which is done by a computer) got me in that highschool. It was a matter of life and death. For those around me, that is. If I got in, I would've group hugged everybody, leaving them with broken bones, severe brain damage and a great fear for hugs for the rest of their life. If I didn't get in, I would've became an hidrogen bomb (info: 1000x more powerful than the atomic bomb) and the city and county/state would be (censored). Yeah, (censo... bloody censorship.

2 weeks later, I was standing right in the same position I am now, with my family around me, browsing through the names of rejects and happy happy kids, and then, suddenly, a porn pop-up! Gah! Closed it. Didn't have any interest in it ... for now. After that, **JBAM!!!**, a blow to the head! Almost fell out of my chair and into nothingness.

(to be concluded in part IV (a bit of patience, please; and DUH!) which will be written tonight)

Death by one small mark on the test paper.

Honey! I'm hooome! (Part II)

The exam for Romanian is organised into three parts. I think I've said this before, right? Yeah, I did, no matter what yo lazy ass says. The first part is grammar (counts for 48% of the final grade), the second is writing a letter/invitation/request (counts for 10%) and the third one (which is always the hardest, at least for my lazy ass) is commenting prose/poem (counts for 32%; 10% is free for all). On that third part, we had to learn 10 already made comments (which is kinda weird, because the geeky Ministry thinks we know how to make them ourselves ... stupid people). Out of those 10, I knew 8 just by memory, not having studied them for 1/2 to 3 years. The hardest one is a poem called pastel, a poem which describes nature. Now, after that bit of info, back to our story.

So I looked onto the sheet of paper, immediatly glancing at the third part of the exam. And then I saw it. Fairy tale. WOOOOO-FUCKING-HOOOOO!!! I amazed to this day that I didn't scream, but my head was shivering with delight. =D

Two hours later, I exited the classroom, recited a "You got OWNED, biatch!" in my mind to the paper, and went out to the yard on a carpet of roses, girls at my feet, the crowd doing a mexican wave and an airplane writing "You tha MAN!" on the sky. Not really, but that's how I imagined it. My mom was happier than me (she was also much more worried than me for this day since 7th grade) . I *know* she wanted to prance around and then give me the keys to my new sports car, but instead she lit a cigarette to calm herself. Damn cigarette, stealing my car! The nerve! Grrrr ...

Anyway, a day of resting (aka gaming and going out) later, the math exam came. Oh dear. It's not that I'm not good at math, it's just that I make stupid mistakes like forgetting about something or doing bad arithmetics. It's extremely annoying, believe you me.

So, that day I did worse than the first exam, but hey!, who the fuck cares? Me, I guess, but no matter. There's still another one to go.

Geography. Romania's geography (we did Europian and International in lower grades). This is supposedely where you can make up for your mistakes at the other two exams. And so I did. Pretty easy, we're not such a big country. The bad part is, for the entire 8th grade, I had *the* most annoying, unstable and look-I'm-funny-haha-not professor I could have gotten. It's like she had PMS for an entire year! T'was a nightmare. At least now it's over, and when I look back I can say her perseverance paid off. I did quite well at the exam.

Yeah. Good in my opinion. Apparently those who corrected them didn't have the same thoughts as I did.

DUN DUN DUUUUN

(to be continued in Part III (double-DUH!) which will be posted tomorrow)

Death by PMS-ing geography professor.

Honey! I'm hooome! (Part I)

Well, yeah, I'm back. Don't know why I haven't wrote anything these past few months; most probably because I didn't have any constant readers. Apparently, now I do *waves to Cynthia and her friends* Yowzas!

Hmmm ... you want me to tell you what I did this summer? Didn't know you were interested! Well ... it all started one rainy night *scene fades to me at my computer* when I was gaming and randomly browsing the Internet out of boredom. Not that I didn't have anything to do, oh no! In 2 or so days I had to do the biggest exam of my life yet. Did I care? No. Proof is that I wasn't studying, nor did I do that strange thing for the past 3 years (with random exceptions).

"But, how could you? Don't you have any thoughts?! If you fail this, you're GOING down!" Such happy thoughts my mom liked to share with me. And probably so would you (*ahem*). Anyway, I kept gaming. It was saturday. At 4 p.m. I thought "Dude, we should study!" so I close the computer and went to study. Boooooooooooring! Less than 1 hour later, I was watching Seinfield and laughing at George. Hehehehe :)

Next day, same thing. *sigh* How could have I been so foolish? Anyway. That crimson night, at 10 p.m., I started studying like hell. "So little time! Why didn't I do this earlier?! You fool! You fool! *study study study* Oooh man, I'm not gonna make it! Oh maaaaaaan!" So I studied for another 2 hours before "Damn ... I'm shleepy. *yawn* Shleepy shleepy shleep." ZzzzZZZZzzz

Next day, 8 a.m., I waked up a bit early to study a bit more. The first exam was today, for Romanian (I'm Romanian. Cool, eh?). Dad comes into the room and sits by me in the bed. "Son, today is the first big day. The day when all your hard studying will pay off (I still can't believe how I didn't burst out laughing). Go and show 'em what yer made of! *thumbs up* Yeeaaah!" I reply with *Yeaaaahh!" Witty, ain't I?

Anyway, a 20 minutes later, Stephen, my best friend for the past 4 years, comes to my house. A vehicular trip later, I was in front of the the school where I'd do the exam. My collegues all there, sharing words of wisdom like "Wooo!", "Where's my pen?! OH GOD, MY PEN!" and "G'luck, matey! Arrrr!".

I entered the school and my classroom, left my mom who was almost crying, and sat down in my bench. 45 AGONIZING minutes later (at 9.16 a.m. ; still remember the hour of my demise), the exams came. The monitors took the papers to every kid there. One was left on my lonely bench, and when I looked on it, I saw ...

DUN DUN DUUUUUN!!!

(to be continued in part II (DUH!) which will be written tonight)

Death by 45 minutes.