Change.

Before I go home or after I come back?

Every blade of grass has its angel who bends over it and whispers "Grow, grow."

God appears, and God is light,
To those poor souls who dwell in night;
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day.

(Picture is Ancient of Days. Excerpt from Auguries of Innocence. Both by William Blake (1757-1827))

Pretty wise?

I think they're pretty interesting.

For those that don't understand what they're rapping about and don't want to spend time watching the video over and over again and searching for answers, they're basically talking about this practice in South Africa among the Corza people (the black guy). What happens is when a boy comes of age, he is given a pair of underpants and a blanket and brought out to the bush. After a week, he is circumcised by the elders of his community, no painkillers and most importantly no disinfection. They rub some burnt ash to stop the bleeding and that's about it. After this, he becomes a man. The problem is a lot of these boys die from infection and apparently a good portion of those that don't, have functional issues with their penises. The whole video is basically saying fuck that, this is ridiculous, I'm not going to go through it.

I think the South African accent is interesting. It sounds nothing like the British accent when you're just leisurely browsing, but when you zone in on the words then you can identify some similarities. I also happen to think that the white mice outfit is pretty awesome.

Me so angry.

Protect your vital interests.

Don't engage in petty rivalries.

Pay close attention to what others do.

And watch what comes out of your mouth.

It sucks that it has come to this, but just yesterday, I realised that S will never be my friend. She has a lot of faults that I can't stand although I'm sure I've got a lot of faults that she can't stand as well. Besides my main issue with her being dismissive about other people's experiences and opinions and having a glorified perspective of her own achievements and sufferings, she's a hypocrite. S never truly cared about anyone. She may convince HM that she cares, she may even think she does care, but all that matters to her is herself. How she can boss more people around, how she can plot her climb to medical school, how she can construct this persona that fits her idea of perfection.

Understanding that wasn't hard.

Constantly reminding myself that she is such a person and I shouldn't let her behaviour affect me shouldn't be as well.

Navigating our tricky relationship so that HM and S would think that I'm friendly, sidestepping S's efforts to make me look bad in front of HM and W, and telling her to fuck off without actually saying fuck off would be harder. By letting her get to me and engaging in petty passive aggressive conversations is only making me look bad. I need to find a better way and no, talking is not an option.

but yields to purifying light.

Invictus
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.

(Picture by 3mm via ChaseDenham. Poem by William Ernest Henley.)