First day of work

First day of new job in digital marketing consulting firm… and for the sake of saving up I chose to take the tram to go to work (which costs less than half of the other option, the MTR. Sigh how I miss my student discount…), making a 15-minute trip into a 45-minute one.

7:30 – woke up.

8:15 – still waiting at the tram stop, standing in the wind, wondering why there were so many trams going by at the other direction instead…

8:30 – tram packed, but forced myself onto the tram, stood at the edge of the entrance and dared not breath because I might bust the door open, and cursed the tram company.

8:35 – moved on to cursing at the people who cross roads in the midst of busy traffic, knowing perfectly well cars won’t dare to run them down.

8:45 – only half way there; began counting the minutes, terrified of being late for the first day of work.

8:59 – dashed out the tram, and into the office building.

My boss spent a lot of time going through with the contracts, orientation, talking what he expected from us (one more new hire besides me) and what he wanted us to get from the company… while I thought I could really settle there because I could learn a lot from the company and judging the way he operates the place I think my boss should be a very decent guy, but I was also afraid I couldn’t live up to his expectations…

My day was… peaceful, half of it because I wasn’t assigned to do anything yet, and the other half because my supervisor just got back from her honeymoon and she needed to do some catching up herself. So after lunch and the orientation, I tried to familiarize myself with some of the projects they were working on… and in last two hours towards the end of my official working hours, I kept on nodding off in front of the computer… Old habits just die hard. But anyway, I see myself staying for quite some time there so it’s a good thing.

Like father, like daughter.

When you’re completely honest to yourself, not only would you truly understand yourself but you also get a look in others’ minds. Because in reality, we aren’t that unique.

 

*********

That afternoon while having sushi with my mom, I told her how I have come to fully realize I am truly her and my father’s daughter. I know where I got my inability to abandon rationality (from my mom, surprisingly)… and I continued to look for examples…

 

List of why I am the hybrid of my parents

1. At times hard, apathetic and distance – Mom; Soft-hearted, extremely sympathetic and caring – Dad (surprise, surprise)
2. Easy to please, content – Mama; Easy to be depressed, unhappy – Papa
3. Ambitious – Mom; Not so much – Dad
4. Optimistic – Mama; Pessimistic – Dada
5. Insensitive – Mom; Sensitive – Dad
6. Bold – Mom; Careful – Dad
7. Heads in the clouds – Mom; Feet on the ground – Dad.
8. Easy going – Ma; Difficult – Ba
9. Stubbornness – Mom; More Stubbornness – Dad.

 

The list goes on and on… I distinctly remember saying to my mom “no wonder I’m extreme, with you two as parents!” Actually I told her I understood how she and my father work, why she/he think and do things in certain ways… because they made me (not only in a biological sense). However, that understanding is slowly sketching a bad but realistic outlook of a highly possible future.

 

My shower head at home broke for the second time within three months. My mom told me that the stuff the contractor used on the house were extremely cheap and of terrible material, so as long they were used, they will break. It so happens that I shower everyday (first time it broke was less than one week after the move, the second time was almost two weeks after it was replaced).

 

She had the guy come up to fix it once, and he advised her to get a new shower head and tube instead of using the same brand. So last Sunday night I was in for a big shock when my father suddenly showed up at my place with a key (following behind was my mother and maid), stormed into the bathroom, yelled and cursed the whole time. Based on my understanding, apparently I twisted and turned the shower head at weird angles and tangled the tube. Other than sheer stupidity from my part, I couldn’t fathom why on earth I would do all that.

 

Maybe because I was no longer exposed to yelling and cursing from my dad, I was pretty much in shock. I couldn’t force myself to speak, but silently watched my parents and listened to the contrast of my mom softly telling him what was wrong with the thing and him shouting how we break everything we use. They just stayed for five minutes, and when they left, I was drained.

 

That night in bed, I revisited my thoughts on having children in the future. For some weird reason, I know almost exactly how much my parents love and care for me and my brothers… and for my dad, he loved us to an extend that he rather be the bad guy and be hated by us when he has our best interest at heart, making decisions for us… etc. He loved and cared so much he went for the extreme. He had such high expectations of us and we didn’t deliver.

 

I know why he has such high expectations… maybe because he gave us everything he didn’t have, or maybe he thinks that since he’s just an average person and if we can’t beat him or just simply catch up with him on any area, we have to be dim and wouldn’t be able to survive in this dog-eat-dog world, making him extremely worried about us, pushing him… if you ask me, I do expect my children to be at least be the same if not better than me in areas like Chinese, English, Math, maybe Art… and I sincerely believe everything I know, everything I can do are just “basics”… and that probably is, I think, exactly what my father thinks of himself (oddly, he is also very skeptical and never trusted others’ expertise), leading me to the conclusion that I’m going to end up being my father when it comes to parenting.

 

Needless to say, I’d never want to treat my children like my father did. The worse part was that everything was done out of love not spite, therefore making me unable to hate him. After that night, the next two days I’ve had nightmares; my and my brothers hiding but he can still find, catch and hurt us… (which I found ironic considering that both me and Vincent felt the safest when he hugged us to sleep at night when we were younger). I felt the nightmares were such an exaggeration; just me dramatizing the whole situation (for God’s sake, it was just five minutes, get a grip…), but I guess despite all that, he has such a profound psychological impact on me that I could never rid even though I rarely see him in normal life now.

 

I guess he has helped me into becoming a better-equipped person; after all he was the one who strongly stressed the importance of English (the many “you speak like a HK student” was somehow a terrible insult), Factorization (getting good at that was the reason I wasn’t so bad in other areas in math), and has encouraged me to do Art (when we were younger he was extremely annoyed at Vincent’s inability to draw freehand the world map while I easily could… and he was extremely annoyed with my inability to memorize Chinese passages while my brothers easily could…). He couldn’t emphasis enough that if it weren’t for him we would all be nothing. But honestly, I’d never want anyone to go through what I went through internally even if it can make them a better person.

 

When I silently watched my mom trying to soothe him, playing the compromising role, I was so sad for her… because she always has to be the one who compromises, the one who has to understand (and accept) his temperament and verbal abuse (I think it helps that she doesn’t pay much attention or think over people’s words too much, but he can say such terrible things.)… She was the one who taught us if we decided to do something, then don’t complain. I knew if I were her in the same position, for the sake of the husband and kids, I would do the same, because I am her. Both of them, in different ways, would sacrifice themselves for their loved ones.

 

But I don’t want to end up like her; I don’t want to be tied to someone who is like my father or in any way reminds me of him by choice; I don’t want to have someone in my life who’s going to have the same impact and power over me enough to hurt me. I am a very cautious person (situations: Dad; people: Mom), and being “safe” in many ways is very important to me… I don’t want to hurt other people or allow anyone else to hurt me, which got me to the conclusion that a solitude life is probably the most logical path for me. My mom’s nature and my father’s nurture on me are probably going to see that to the end.

Fam(c)e

I was taking a shower yesterday when I heard kids singing the national anthem (I presumed that they were playing too, cos with the laughing and all). I know it shouldn’t have, but that freaked me out.

 

******

I do understand; I have been warned and so have expected it to come… just not so soon. But I guess now is about time and that’s what made me blue…

 

******

Today is National Day… other than a day off from work it meant nothing much to me. In certain ways I am patriotic but not feeling particularly close to China; I just didn’t necessarily want to celebrate. People’s birthday I buy a cake, but the birth of a republic, hmm… I bury a cake?

 

Instead of staying a couple more hours in bed, I decided to catch an early movie (because it’s a lot cheaper and I’m broke… why am I always broke?). There were two choices: either District 9 or Fame. Both I know would make me upset in different ways. The former, I expect after viewing would trigger a want for discussion; a heavier subject matter but somewhat less personal. The latter was more dependable on personal preference and experience; more about sharing than discussing. Woke up moody, I ended up watching Fame.

 

There weren’t many dancing scenes (unlike Step Up); singing scenes (Sister Act), musical ensemble (er… School of Rock?) There was a print-making scene which caught me by surprise… but essentially it has almost everything I love doing in it. Plot-wise Fame wasn’t brilliant in an obvious way; what made it special was that unlike many movies concerning Art, the messages were very realistic. I guess it was upsetting for a few reasons; one was that it reminded my not being able to concentrate on only one interest, therefore not being really good at any particular aspect… but it couldn’t be helped. Second was more of a hit of reality, that school life was really over; that kind of fun and hopefulness you get only while you’re still in school is lost. There were so many things I haven’t had the chance to experience in school… but I know I had to leave one day and I’m at a different stage right now, so… so… …

 

So after awhile of walking around stores and no luck in finding work clothes or bag, I went back home and played around my face a little bit more; that morning I decided to “make an effort”, i.e. put some make up on, before going out because it was such a long time since the last time I did (January for AP? For someone who rarely puts on make up, I’m surprisingly at ease sticking fake lashes on my eyelids…). There are times I caught myself wondering what happened, or what changed because I could remember distinctly a girl who got caught wearing “make up” to school (it was just brow liner…), perfume, skirt too short heels too high, and took an interest in clothes… actually, what happened That Year?!?? Anyway I simply missed the process of “drawing my face back on” and I missed my face with make up on.  

 

So from very basic eyeliner, to day make up and night make up… I put on a pair of big earrings and a dress, pulled up my hair and stared at the mirror (I sound so self obsessed, ha). The reason I was staring was because it’s literally the first time I saw myself as a sophisticated twenty-two-year-old (without wearing a suit) instead of a girl who’s still lingering at her early teenage stage. There’s a pretty queer reason why I don’t put on make up (I make the tiniest things such a big deal), and that’s because it makes me “unreachable”.

 

A made up face is like a mask; you’re accentuate the features and hiding the flaws, but (on other people) the flaws create character, it shows what a person has gone through; laugh lines, dark circles, freckles… everything. Somehow, making your face perfect, even though you can see your expressions and everything, is still an actual mask. It’s such a good and conventional way to hide. I also didn’t enjoy the plainness I felt after washing my face.

 

There’s also something about a face being untouchable after carefully putting make up. Your face has foundation, your eyes has eye shadow… I don’t even dare to touch my own face when I have all that on me. There is this thing my mom does only when she tugs me in bed (ages ago) or when I’m so sick that I have to stay in bed (rarely), is she slowly and gently brushes my face with the back of her hand, and I loved it because I could actually feel the tenderness and love she had for me (which wasn’t something I often felt when I was younger). The element of touch and feeling is thus very important to me. It’s like having a pretty doll that you cannot touch in case you break it… I don’t like thinking I risk ruining my face or I have to wash my hands every time after I touch my face.

 

Out of the subject… but anyway it’s been a nice quiet day; just nothing “national” about it.

“My Fortune”

Edith, this might not be the essay you have in mind @@, I don’t really have much to say on this subject… but anyway Happy Birthday and I hope you would like this piece.

************

 

Ask me what I see in my future a few years ago, my reply would probably begin with “I see myself lying down quietly, serene even, inside a box lined with silk…” Now it’s “I see myself engulfed by fierce red flames, but I feel no pain… ”as in Hong Kong every little inch of land is translated directly into currency, it would be hell of a price to pay if you want a burial. But even in not so morbid terms, it appears that the older you get, the more your fortune is “fixed”.

 

When you were young, there seem to be endless opportunities; you can be a sorcerer, a superhero, a fish… then when you began primary school you found that you liked math and science, so you thought of becoming a scientist or a doctor, and eventually help mankind. In high school, life gets more complicated; those chemistry books get much more difficult to understand and when the teacher solves a math problem on the board, it was like you were watching someone doing magic tricks.

 

Working really hard you got yourself a place in a good university, but after struggling with your first engineering course you decided that there’s a very slight chance you can really become a scientist – there’s still a long way ahead and frankly, you doubt your ability and passion for science after all those years of the hard work you’ve been through to get this far (and you’re still nowhere near your goal). So trying to be mature and realistic, you studied business instead. You did okay and eventually landed a job in a branch of a big company. About to be promoted to branch manager, you got married and have kids. Then you listen to your son while he tries to explain why he wants to be a fish.

 

We always tend to think it’s too late to change our lives or start something new when we reach to a certain age. Perhaps when we grow older, we have more to lose (like money or pride) and we have more responsibilities, and therefore we do not dare to try something new. So maybe we shouldn’t be too transfixed or be too worried about our fortune, because as we let time slip by unnoticed, the less we can do about our future…

 

Chinese mother-in-laws and plans…

I’ve been writing a lot more in my blog than I used to, probably because I’m taking fewer courses this year and I’m trying to go to fewer dance class (apparently that’s going to change very soon…). Even so, there’s still so much I want to say, so much I want to write, like how Chinese people love to discriminate each other, my feelings after watching Capote… and I still haven’t started @@.  Great regular outlet, WordPress.

 

**************

Today, on my way back home, I kept getting glances now and then because I was holding on to so many grocery bags, had trouble walking past the marketplace, and had to pause now and then… then I just realized Chinese mother-in-laws would love me:

1. I can carry more groceries than a lot of other girls.
2. I play mahjong but not very well so they have a playmate but won’t lose money to.
3. I know nothing about Chinese customs or Chinese cooking so they’ll have a great time telling me off.
4. Not artificially blonde.
5. Pretty willing to see them regularly, like seeing my grandma, unless they are just plain horrible to be around.
6. I’m pretty used to being tight with money, so they don’t have be afraid that I won’t be able to manage family finances @@.

 

In more traditional terms (really these criteria should be obsolete by now…):

1. Respectable family/background.
2. According to Yan and Ching I’m going to be great at bearing children @@.
3. 琴棋書畫; I play the piano, I play chess, I read, and I draw . (why this is important I don’t know…)
4. 正正經經; A “sensible and proper” girl…
5. I have small hands and feet. (that’s probably why I trip easily…)
6. I’m probably too lazy to talk back or argue about things they think are important (but are trivial to me ).

 

But then again I don’t take orders and interference very well…

 

**************

Yan came over on Tuesday night because she needed art supplies to finish her painting. She was astounded by the lack of junk food, the alcohol in my fridge, the fact that me and my brothers shared a room even though there’s only a one or two year age difference, and how good my mattresses are for the spine. She was also careful to ask where lizards and cockroaches were when she had to go to the bathroom @@.

 

The night turned out to be us talking, her drinking several cups of orange juice, watching dance clips online (terrible connection… sigh) and her skipping the first day of school the next day. Shockingly, she didn’t finish her painting.

 

It was nice having her to come over because we never get to have a proper one on one conversation in the studio and get to know each other. It’s hard to believe that she’s turning 18 when every time I look, her poses and gestures are all so childlike.

 

*************

It appears that my plans to stay with Edith and Calvin is down the sink since I’ve just been told by Raymond that the Working Holidaymaking visa has been cancelled… originally such a visa would allow me to stay in London for two years and work for one, which fit to my plans perfectly. Now I have to be from Australia, Canada, Japan, New Zealand or hold a British passport in order to apply for this new “Youth Mobility Scheme”.

 

Raymond’s suggestion was to “go marry a UK guy, clean and done”. My retort was “Best advice I’ve heard from you all night. Since you’re holding a British passport, I should save the trouble and just marry you instead”. Sensing that I was taking the news rather badly, He made up by finding a government vacancy post for an unpaid internship in UK… but I wasn’t planning to ask for any more money from my parents after graduation. So either I find an alternative or… oh never mind, I’ll find an alternative.

 

Ah… I’m so spoiled…

Okay, after this entry I will try harder to write better and organize my thoughts. I know I tend to jump around and wander off to another direction in my writing.

 

And I should control the length of my entries… I tend to keep on rambling on the same ideas…

 

*****************

Wednesday, two things:

 

1. I’ve always had problems focusing. It just never came to me that during test it could get worse. If any of my daydreams were true, then I’ve seen a lot of people within 5 hours by just sitting quietly @@. Too bad I don’t daydream often.

 

2. For the whole week I’ve been looking pale (more than usual), sick and hair chaotic, but right after my last paper for the day, for some weird reason, I actually got some color back on my cheeks. Maybe I’m starting to develop exam allergies?

 

*****************

A lot of people have been asking me what I planned to do after graduation. I thought of looking for a job, accepting the fact that my university life was horrid and that I would never try out school life in America; that I’d probably wouldn’t have another art class ever again, or any chance to brainstorm and be creative; knowing that I won’t be able to learn how to write properly ever.

 

I went to this McDonnell scholarship talk just to realize it was only for Ph. D students (many of us got fooled). Nevertheless, the message was that they were looking for exceptional students and groom them to be future leaders, with the hopes of making the world a better place. And by exceptional they mean academically. Initially I was upset because I thought “okay, so I’m never going to make a difference”. But then I started to get worked up. What does my performance in school have anything to do with me being “exceptional” or with me being a leader? Why must my life be determined by my transcript and graduation….

 

It dawned to me that if I graduate next year; just accept what I have right now and don’t change anything, then this is really It for me. I’m always going to feel like a failure just because I did terribly in school (well, university at least). I’ll always have to look back thinking I could have done better. .. but wait, I’m just 21 and already I’m regretting for what I’ve done in my life? That can’t be right @@.

 

I want to try studying art again, try to spend more time on creative writing, see if I’m not as mediocre as I think I am, and treat my interests seriously. I want to be inspired; to understand who I really am; and what am I made of. I’ve started doing my school-research again, stumbling back to the course content of degree programmes such as the bachelor degree of fine arts. I was thinking, I was suppose to spend 4 years in HKU anyway, so why not I try taking up fine arts instead for a year and decide what I want to do after that? If I’m any good, I might be able to get to a masters program after the first year (if I could build up a superb portfolio @@). Highly impossible, but just a thought. I could always come back to Hong Kong…

 

So the basic idea is, me spending a year elsewhere to try out studying in fine arts.

 

My concerns, as always, are about time and money. Then I look at people around me, doing things they want to do, going to places they want to see and explore… why can’t I have that? They’re the same age as me; I don’t think they are particularly well off… so what’s stopping me? Fear.

 

Fear of me being a brat by asking for extra money for something unnecessary when they are already supporting my brothers in America (they seriously don’t need the extra expenses); Fear of thinking of all this and not joining the work force all just because I’m spoiled. Fear of wasting a year of my life; Fear of having no future if I end up being a fine art graduate; Fear of ending up wasting my parent’s money; Fear of convincing my father that I can, I want to, and I should do this, so I won’t have any regrets; Fear of adapting in a new environment; Fear that I would have to accept that I might not be as good as I think I would.

 

But what is one year compared to my life, since I’m planning to stick around for quite some time @@?

 

But I’m not planning to work in the art industry… at least not now… is it still okay? A master degree (if I get one), might end up being more of a hindrance in looking for other work…

 

But what if all this is just stupidity? I’m not even one of the best in my high school in Hong Kong… what future would I have in US or UK? What if I Think I want to study art or writing, just because it seems to be easier? What if I just spend a year on it and decided to come back to Hong Kong (which I think is the most possible outcome)… is that a waste of money and time?

 

Sometimes I couldn’t help think, am I being punished for being able to get to University in Hong Kong, leaving me here while my brothers are in America. This is extremely selfish and stupid, I know… they’re having a hard time, and my parents shouldn’t have to pay for us doing poorly in school, but sometimes I couldn’t help but think… sigh…

 

Sigh… I’m just really spoiled… really I am… if I weren’t spoiled, I wouldn’t even have these thoughts, these “problems”…

See that grey shade? It might be the Future.

So many to kill, so little time.

 

******

Yesterday was my cousin’s official wedding ceremony. I said official because he was technically married in America two years ago but because the bride’s family insisted that their daughter’s wedding should be celebrated (in HK) so yesterday’s party.

 

I always thought that weddings party should be separated into two time slots: One is for family (more formal) and one for friends (more fun). I mean, telling sensitive jokes is not a good idea when your parents are around.

 

My mom drank three rounds of red wine and she got really emotional when we left together for home. She kept on telling people she was so happy for my Big Auntie, the groom’s mother (I forgot the word “Big” referred to her rank as my Uncle “One”’s wife or her size). My Big Auntie is a very nice person. She taught me how to sew clothes for my Baby Bear (my doll since birth) and took care of me and my brothers in US. Unfortunately (for her) she married my uncle (renowned for his bad temper and idleness), so she led a very tiring life, always have to work, pay and serve the family.

 

Then my mom cried when she got home. I suspect she was holding back tears for some time. Those were not happy tears. She said she sincerely felt happy for my aunt because my aunt rarely had anything to celebrate about, but she realized that at that moment all hope on my cousin’s future was lost.

 

My aunt has two sons. Both of them could not be described as successful in career or life (or at least to my family’s standard). They could earn their living all right, but it’s unlikely that they will become rich or famous or in love with their career. My mom said that mothers are usually hopeful when it comes to their children’s future. However, it’s like “Game Over” for my aunt’s hope for a better future.

 

I understand that my mom is extremely worried about my brothers’ future. Both of them no longer go to school and are now currently preparing to sit for SATs. In some way, all three of us are unsure of the future we will have. I’m still thinking of the possibility of pushing trolleys in the streets and finding old newspaper and cardboards in trash cans to sell; the possibility of not being able to get married (no pressure from my mom really, but I know it would break her heart if I don’t. It’s kind of expected?).

 

I know that most of my family are fighters (well, I’m not sure about Vincent…) and no matter what, we will cope. Nevertheless my mom is scared of the possibilities of a dark future and so am I.

四大想頭

 

Plump, corpulent, beefy, obese…

 

********

Why don’t I give you the Finger, and you give me my phone call? – Neo, Matrix

 

********

今天, 很touchy.

可能因為晨早就要去旺角吧.

我真的很不喜歡去這個地方.

是心底裡討厭.

很少(多)東西, 人我是會這樣沒有理由討厭的.

例如

某核凸人

(都有原因的, 我討厭沒有自知之明的人)

(其實我這樣always 說他很衰, 但鬼叫他呼吸這個行為也黑我憎呢.),

某潮種人,

某類蝦霸人,

某玩弄人的某某的人.

(好了, 我果然是有語言天份的.)

 

我今天想了很久.

大學, 未來職業, 寫作, 跳舞.

 

大學 – 見步行步吧. 還是pess 中.

(我要學d潮人, 講sorry 講 “梳呀下”; 講pessimistic 就 “pess” )

[ 原來我都真的串咀… 不絕 (資質不好嘛), 但串. ]

 

未來職業 – 那天那位客人問我是不是天天返公司…

我: 我返工嘛, 當然要天天返公司啦.

她: 啊, 不用返學嗎?

我: 放暑假嘛.

她: 你豈不是童工?

我: 哈?!?! 我很大了!

她: 這樣, 你都keep 得幾好wor~

我: (窒左) 多謝！

 

我遲些才煩未來職業這項, 不過份吧.

 

寫作 – Winnie 說她在努力中, 我真的很羨慕.

由f.2 暑假開始喜歡, 一直現在, 都是.

但可能是f.6 f.7 作文和story type 差太遠,

Lost my touch 了.

大學才再寫, 會有時間嗎?

 

跳舞 – 原來我真的很喜歡跳的.

但永遠因為人事問題影響, 每次上完堂後都不是開心的走.

有些少覺得, 越像我不會做的, 我偏會去做.

體藝, 蝦蝦霸霸,

理科, 上堂睡覺,

成績不好, 18分成功返原校,

學生會, 讀Art 和Pure Maths,

成績好, 入港大… to 無限.

Same equation 吧.

直至星期五晚沒端端被勸減肥,

(其實他也有說我要留意音樂感, but anyway…)

我就想, 我真的想繼續? 留在這種環境?

我是開心, 還是不開心呢?

 

對大部分東西開始感沒興趣已不是一天的事了. 這好嗎?

大學生了, 不再是小孩子了

Computers: It would never cheat on you; if you gave it the right command, it will never let you down.

— My Dad

 

******

很開心呢, 吉和蘋果都給我留言.

其實我是很鼓勵那些非水果類的朋友看我的diary~

哈哈哈~~

考試運, 的確是恨也恨不到的.

只是, 有時候當你知道有些東西不是靠運換來的,

你會分外滿足, proud of yourself 呢.

可能我想有機會be proud of myself 啊;

Proud of being Jennifer.

 

很快開學了, 非常緊張.

星期五是九月一日, 應該是開學的第一天吧?

不是很特別嗎?

那天, 我不想普普通通的讓它過,

但告訴了我媽和弟們我的想法後,

他們都覺得九月一不是甚麼的一回事…

 

唔知呢, 但總覺得九月一不用返學,

是象徵了自己不再是小學生, 中學生.

見到別人穿住校服, 我已經覺得那些校服人和自己距離很遠;

生活在兩個世界.

 

是時候想想自己的career option 了.

爸說, 20 歲至25歲就是找尋自己的career.

25過後就已經too late.

快20歲了. 很多人都在20 歲自力更生,

不再靠父母.

自己還是少爺小公主的模樣.

 

我常常想住自己要寫書,

但我已lost my touch,

可能要捨棄這個夢想了.

 

上大學, 我有兩大目標.

一, 我要專心上堂, 不可以再上堂睡覺.

我的中四至中七都睡過的…

我要大學考好成績~

二, 我要學好跳舞.

我越不似會做到的, 我就要做好它.

趁我現在還沒玩厭它.