I got a conditional offer from Manchester University! It isn’t my first choice, but a great start though.

ARGH!!! Where’s my Imperial letter?!??!?!?

I received a conditional offer from Birmingham University.

Birmingham is clad with Indians. How the residents survive the deadly armpit-smell bomb, I do not know.

And yet 2 letters of invitation for an interview by the admission faculty of University of Bath and University College London.

Fucking Imperial.

I’ve been informed to attend the introductory visit on Wednesday by the admission faculty of Manchester University. I assume the interview will be held on the same day.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t get a cheap saver return ticket because none are valid on Tuesday, apparently. What kind of fucking business policy is this?! I’m spending a bloody £40 just on a transportation.

Love. A human emotion that most of the human brains crawl for. It’s pretty much exciting when you got your first relationship, pride yourself that you’re finally together with the person you longed for. But when the table turns and fate starts to play its trick, it ends up in disaster, and you sit at your bedroom corner, indulging yourself with thoughts of what went wrong.

Love can hurt. And so does rejection. (sucky metaphor, but what the heck la…)

Just yesterday, I witnessed a collegemate crying silently while 2 of her friends were at her side trying to cheer her up. At first, I thought her relationship had finally met its end. And later on, I realised that it was the rejection from LSE that broke her soft heart.

Of course, who would read the letters sent by the university further when its first few words are “We’re sorry and regret that…..”. I’ll probably collapse the moment my eyes catch a glimpse of the word “sorry” and “regret”.

Assuming that she’s a talented, hardworking and enthusiastic young girl who strikes for the best, some might think that her efforts were a total waste, though I do agree to a certain extent. As my principal said before the college students broke up before the summer holiday, “If you hold firmly to the saying ‘Believe and you will get’, let it go. “Believe and you may get’ is what I think to be a correct statement.” To clarify what he said, believes can only lead you to somewhere close to your goal, but it may not mean that you will achieve what you want, it only may. Part of my mind think it’s true. Hell, getting myself somewhere close to my goal is the least I need. The other part of my mind couldn’t validate to what the principal said because it is my believe in achieving something that pushes me to the limit.

A few chinese dudes laughed when the received the rejections. What the fuck? But I was quite surprised when I found out one of my smart pals was rejected. Along with the fact that the 2 prodigies in my math class who have not yet received notices from the elite universities (Cambridge, Oxford, Imperial), it makes me very anxious and by some weird biochemical reaction, it gives me unnecessary goosebumps.

God damn it Imperial, where the heck is your letter?!?

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Oh wait, I sent my UCAS application to the referee just last Monday. But still, it makes me nervous. Study study study study!!!!

A message directed to Amirah binti Azlan, and no one but Amirah binti Azlan.

Don’t even think dirty you lascivious woman.

A note to our wise and noble young queen(who wish she had suffered acromegaly and gigantism): The surprise might lead to severe traumatism, vehement mental pain followed by internal bleeding of the cerebrum and fatal excitement. Proven fatal. You are WARNED.

Now I can only pray and hope that my UCAS application will get me somewhere with brighter paths. Hopefully Imperial.

I am so fucking pissed!

*Takes a DEEP breath*

Here’s why I’m so suffused with anger. In case I fail to get any offer from the 5 universities I had in my UCAS profile, the USA universities were (READ: were) to be my insurance, to ensure that my future academic life will proceed as I intend it to be. And as most of you know, USA universities = SAT!

And Joseph Smith hates me so much! Among the few collegemates who registered for SAT via online, I was the only one who faced technical troubles. Unable to remedy the problems, I mailed to whichever Mormons that were suppose to be concerned and this is all they sent back : Thank you for contacting the College Board. We have received your message and will respond shortly.

Shortly?! How fucking short was it!? The dateline’s up, you morons! What were you Mormons doing? Watching your claimed-to-be God representative gossiping and murmuring bullcraps while he scrutinized the ‘emptiness’ inside a top hat? And soon you all realised that his facial skin was superglued to the rim of the top hat screaming for help.

You are all selfish, incompetent masochistic pedophiles who work for the SAT registration website for a living solely because you can’t compete with Michael Jackson. Fucking pussies!