I had a blog post inside my head. I had lines for introduction, the body, the dramatic climax, and I had an ending full of flare. It was a whining, wallowing imaginary post full of what-could-have beens, pseudo-emoness and all my usual crap. But now, as I sit inside Greenshop with two seatmates peeking at how I translate my life drama into pixelated words, I could not even remember a freaking line.

It's just that, I feel so mediocre nowadays. Of course I always have alibis for stuffs I hate. Today I got five mistakes for an accounting quiz, all because I am too stupid to distinguish a loss from a revenue and 520 from a freaking 250. And then I would say I'm careless to augment that glaring fact that I am borderline-stupid, isolated case or not. But at the end of the day, I still have five mistakes, I still wallow, I still blog in depression. I was actually telling myself, in an effort to self-counsel my troubles, that this early, I should think of ways to comfort myself, or to pacify myself whenever I get not-so nice scores or lower than the mean results. I told myself that my provincial public high school days of glorious perfect exams and fruitful OCness are over. After all, it was not my fault if I went through my elementray and secondary schooling in the outskirts where majority of the teens are more bothered by neighbor romances that periodic exam spooks. And it's not my fault if I am in a university full of people who want to outshine and outdo each other in their bouts of self-fulfillment, quest for societal and economic position and all that glittering crapola.