there have been points in my educational life where i gained epiphanies and revelations of the relevance of my education, and how i actually enjoy doing what i'm studying, and how sudden passion suddenly erupts for studying. i wouldn't say mugging this time because i actually enjoyed it.

even my secondary school science concentrated curriculum didn't discount this experience. i constantly genuinely enjoyed chemistry, i think i still do today. physics manifested in how i saw the world. yada yada, and yet there came a certain barrier to which i never could conquer: consistency. even the spsls told me that in my psb interview. i'm never consistent. ever. in fact, i'm going to delete this post one day just in case future prospective employers see this and decide not to hire me. but yes, i'm never consistent.

list of inconsistencies: running? check. blading? check. photography? check. art? check. chem/phy/bio/amaths/emaths/ss/history? check. history/lit/econs/maths? check. graphicdesign? check. writing? check.

lol, if i were a lit book inconsistency would be a recurring motive and symbol AND the overall theme for the book. har har har. its recurrence is so repetitive its not even funny anymore. in fact its past worrisome. its boring. B.O.R.I.N.G. if i whine shit i'm so inconsistent to my friends, they'll look up and say. whats new.

so right now, as i'm reading revolutionary road, ulysses, parts of shervin/vjc's disgrace, (intensely reading) wuthering heights and persuasion (19th century chicklit hahahaha) and generally basking in literary fervor, i can't help but wonder when this will all end?