"This, my boy, is called regression."

She called me yesterday night,
To break the unfortunate news to me,
That one of the essays I wrote for her,
May be closer to a failing grade than I've expected.

Uh-oh.

This will definitely cast some serious doubt,
On my writing ability,
And certainly deal,
A whole lot of damage to my self-belief as well.

Oh-no.

Maybe that guy was right afterall.
I was just lucky to have passed the first one with flying colors.
Will was trying to comfort me,
By mentioning that the subject matter,
Was not my area of expertise.
But that's hardly an excuse,
Cos I have access to her textbooks,
And all that information I obtained from google.

Bah.

This reminds me of the time where I got a "D",
For one of my socie essays,
And a friend laughed at me.
Definitely not a positive start to my new school semester.
Speaking of school,
I emailed my professor for an appointment to see him,
And I just read his reply a few minutes ago.
"Yes please see me on Thursday,
11am to 1pm"

Oops.

It's all my fault for going down to Zouk,
Instead of going to school in the morning yesterday.
I realized that I've finally lost the appetite for clubbing,
At the grand old age of 23.
And I've zero tolerance for alcohol now,
After my quixotic attempt,
To become a teetotaller a few years ago.
Abstinence weakens your resistance,
And I felt light-headed after a couple of drinks.

All those practice sessions that resulted in mini pukefests,
Have totally gone down the drain.

I'm thinking of going to school tomorrow.
On a saturday, oh yes.
Cos I've a seminar on Monday,
And I haven't zapped a single page of my readings yet.