I forgot about you. Sorry.

There was a particular dirty window, latched tightly to a rickety-rack of a seaside-house. Most other things on that house had already fallen off, but it was truly a wonder to see the dirty window persistently grabbing onto the rusty shingles, worn by weather and by memory. It stood, suffering silently, in the wake of a terrible storm; or, on brighter days, it would give off an oily refracted light.

It was stained with several oily stains, left by curious hands and reminiscent fingers. It was muddled with grainy memories. But never cracked. And this was truly the eighth great wonder of the world. Nobody remembered whence it had started to watch the beach and its people, whence it had become an observer. But it stood there, nonetheless, steadfastly holding to its rusty shingles and reflecting.

Sometimes it seemed to have its own will, twisting lights and refracting them through its oil circles. It had its own code of reflections; in came blue, out came green. Other times, a bright light might go through the three-millimeter glass and find itself an assortment of greens, blue, oranges, but no yellows or reds, laying scattered on the sandy floor of the shack.

There were other aspects of the window, discovered years ago by two children who were making amusement at the shack. Thinking it was fun to talk through the window, one child ran outside the shack to listen to the other’s secret murmur. But when they came to compare secrets, one boy discovered the words traveling through the glass had changed, twisted by the glassy liquid within the window.

The window, its shack included, became integrated into the town that was placed a few meters away from the beach side. Almost every adult had spent some time in the shack itself, shaded by bits and pieces of shingles that barely covered the top of the shack. Almost every adult had been enlightened by the tiny shaft of light shining through the roof and the soft glow the dirty window emitted with its sunglass refractions.

But the beach was dying. Bad weather, erosion acted on accordance of Nature’s whims and soon the sandy shore was degraded into piles of sharp rocks, jutting from the land. The shack still held adamantly, planting its wooden beams sharply into the land’s sides and resisting Nature. It did so, but with a painful cost. A soft howl was heard in the town every time a storm passed by.

The conspicuous shack became a disturbing memorial on the beach with its howling timbers. A group was assembled in the town. Perhaps it was time to take the old shack to its true home, away from the virulent shore. A small group of men went down to the shack to examine it.

A tiny gash was found in the window, lodged tightly in the top right corner of the window. A small gash, but the surveyor noted it silently as he circled the dying shack. He had never noticed its existence before, not even when he had been playing within the shack during his childhood days. He used to watch the irregular rings form on the sandy ground, refracted by the window. Dirty as it was, it served as an amusing light glass, projecting its own stubborn will with strange shades.

The next day, the group of men arrived by shore, only to find the shack collapsed, the timbers laying naked on the jagged rocks. The shingles were scattered among the rocks, camouflaging with the deep black of the rocks. There was a strange gasp among the men. Had there been a storm last night?

Something caught the surveyor’s eye. A neat circle of glass shards were laying in the middle of the havoc, still refracting its own color of the sun.

FED UP.

Yes, I am fed up. With what? With Chinese school.

There's this burning fire of rage that will never cease to be extinguished unless someone does something about it. I am so angry I feel like exploding. Exploding!

1. ILLEGAL PARKING! That just screams, "PEOPLE! PAY ATTENTION TO THE FREAKIN 50 SIGNS THAT ARE ON THE SIDEWALK!" They are everywhere and they say, clearly, in dark, red, bold font, "STOP, DROP, AND GO". In other words, that means you do not PARK your car near the curb [OR NEAR THE FIRE HYDRON!!]. Or they stay in the cars that are PARKED near the curb. Please, that is NOT STOP DROP, AND GO. I feel like calling the police and tipping them about this, but then... I'm not even sure how to. Next time, someone tell me how to tip the police and I will. Those people deserve to be fined.

2. First of all, why are there so many people at Chinese school anyways? Sure, there are teachers. Then there are volunteers. But parents, YOU DO NOT NEED TO BE THERE. Chinese school is NOT a place to be hanging out with your Chinese buddies and talking about... who the hell cares?! LEAVE when you drop your child off. GOD. Do people a freakin' favor!! People do not need to park in the very back and end up getting their cars crammed against each other so they can't even get out of the freakin' parking lot! And definitely NOT because you decided to drop by and talk about old times with your STUPID FRIEND.

3. Now, students. FOR GOD'S SAKE, WHAT PART OF NO RUNNING, NO FOOD DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?! They even repeated it in ENGLISH. You don't need to be a master in Chinese NOW, but I'm sure you know what that means in ENGLISH. My sister told me how this kid ate Subway in class... and I was surprised that the Chinese teacher didn't do anything [I thought she would be really strict... but I guess not.] Apparently, they eat candy and stuff from the vending machines a lot too. WHY THE HELL ARE THE VENDING MACHINES EVEN ON?! Also, if I were the teacher, I would've ripped the food out of their hands and dumped it into the garbage. Then I would say, "Get the hell out of my class" and make them stand outside for the rest of the time. STAND, no sitting.

4. Also, PARENTS, teach your CHILD to LISTEN IN CLASS. Nobody needs a slacker to be at Chinese school only because his parents demanded. I'm only a TA and I'm SICK of talking in class. I am on the verge of SHOOTING PEOPLE FOR TALKING. ARGH! You have PLENTY of time to talk OUT OF CLASS. If anyone was talking, I would think of something really evil and punishing so NOBODY would do it again.

My Arm Hurts. And Happy Birthday to ALL.

I want my Final Fantasy with some cough syrup.

I Bombed.