Welcome to my brain-dump zone where school drama, project disasters, and random 2 a.m rants collide. If you love a good laugh, a little sarcasm, and occasional deep thoughts when I’m not doom-scrolling—stick around!
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Today was my first day back at school, and I have to say, the washrooms are still a disaster. I mean, we pay thousands in fees, but our washrooms are like a bad joke. Have you seen the state of our girls' washrooms? It's like they're trying to make us cry... or maybe that's just the smell talking. So, our girls' washrooms have these pathetic doors. The locks don't work, and you can't even close the door properly. It's like a game of chance. Will you get the one with the broken lock? Will you get the one with the door that's stuck? Honestly, what is the school staff even thinking? “Hey, let's just leave it broken and hope no one peeks in!” Like, who thought this was a good idea? "Let's not fix the doors, let's just hope the girls can figure it out!" And then there's the water situation. It's like a mythical creature – we've heard of it, but we've never seen it. Is water in the washroom? No, it's a legend! What...
A tragic tale students know too well. This title is probably the most universally familiar topic among students. Doesn't matter if you’re a topper, or an average student. Every person has gone through this tragedy, where they have to give up five prestigious minutes of lunch break. Usually, it's the teacher explaining homework from 2070, or just summing up the lesson—which honestly seems legal, considering how often it happens. I mean, the teacher’s just trying to cover the stuff we are learning. But the only situation that gets on my nerves is when the teacher keeps us waiting, because she’s telling one of her old tales. Like, I'm sorry you didn't get into Med School—life's tough, but girl, this isn't therapy. We just want to have a bite of food to put up with another 3 hours of blabbering teachers. It’s even worse when the teacher isn’t even telling us some educational, or motivational story, she’s rambling about her dog’s death. Like... sweetie, you want ...
School’s back after winter break, and with it comes a pile of notifications, assignments, and… surprises. One of the first posts on Google Classroom caught my eye: something called “Chromebook Registration.” At first glance, it looked like one of those posts you skim, think “I’ll do it later,” and then promptly forget exists. I didn’t even open it properly. Obviously, because I’m lazy in a very academically strategic way. Ironically, that laziness may have saved my Chromebook. Some students, however, were far more responsible than me. They followed the instructions immediately. A few hours later, the same students were sending screenshots in the group chat—screenshots of restricted settings, blocked access, and a sudden realization that their personal Chromebooks no longer felt very personal. That’s when things started to feel… off. A few days later, teachers started asking who had completed the registration. A handful of us—four or five girls—admitted we hadn’t. Not out of defiance,...
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