literature.

i couldn't sleep last night because of the stupid cramps so i just lazed in bed, thinking about random things and somehow my thoughts ended up at how i was so interested and amazed by literature back in secondary school. i still remember how proud i was of the essays i wrote analysing well known proses and poems by famous authors, which would, most of the time, end with a very apt rhetorical question (in my personal opinion back then). but my 'baby' passion in literature was killed even before it was given the chance to fully develop because my essays were deemed to be inconsistent with what the teachers taught in class. hence, i ended up almost failing literature and almost not getting my Excellent Student award for that semester while my classmates who diligently attended tuition classes given by your literature teacher and merely regurgitated everything the teacher said into their essays scored unexpectedly well.

then, at the age of 12, i couldn't reason everything out logically but instead blamed my father for not letting me attend tuition classes or was disappointed with myself for being such a 'boy' who couldn't appreciate literature. and literature gradually became my least favourite subject in school and i had no choice but to conform to the norms in order to do well academically. now, at the age of 24, i realised that hey, it wasn't actually such a bad thing. instead, i'm thankful for having a father who has always wanted me to learn through reading books, watching tv and visiting places rather than through attending tuition classes, and for having other teachers, especially an excellent form teacher, who really had the heart for educating the young.

this is totally random, but oh well...