Financial Accounting

Financial Accounting?

What the hell IS this?

Hang on- I've done this before! When was that... ah yes, 10th grade. With a teacher that writes his own little thing on the bloody board!!!

Obviously I sound disturbed. And I am.

There were around 10 of us in the class, with an instructor that kept throwing names and looking my direction- guessing. After repeated errors ("Charlotte? Ruth? Mark??" I mean "Mark" ? He has got to be joking...), finally found a name tough to pronounce (but tried anyways) and marked my attendance.

My first impression of him? French (actually I'm not sure if he is), speaks wonderful British English (which I like alot), and a paternal type of leader (his age and deep-toned yet clear voice accentuates credibility).

Then the class officially started.

The first few minutes were okay, some theories upon world accounting- concentrating the difference between a European (mainly French, ofcourse) and the American financial language.
Then it came to the tables, the terms that's forever changing, and the individual-asked questions... suddenly I was in total awe.
Why?
Because I was beating my a*s following him, whereas other students seem to read the transactions and figure what to write in milliseconds. Now by this time I was really wondering what's happening to me. Was it my breakfast? The total-slacking period of two weeks? Brain damage?!?

Considering the options, I'm relieved to say that I was simply out of it.

Only after class did I find out that 6 of the people in the class are actually repeating the particular course (failed it in semester 1). It cheered me up a bit I guess, not much.

After intl marketing and today's striking experience in class... I know that I won't pass my weeks easily. Materials meant for 3.5 months are due to finish in just 6 weeks (1.5 months). It's either madness or complete time-efficiency.

I gotta dash.

Why won't I grow up?

A complete loser.

You know how it feels, when you've tried to hold something back and knowing that it's the best thing to be doing, but then you suddenly break. That very instant, you know that you've failed. Failed to convince the people you love that everything is okay, and worse- failed to prove that you're "adult" enough to deal with your own problems.

Well for me, it's more because I let those loved ones worry. After days knowing that something is wrong, and suddenly knowing it in the end. I feel pathetic.

Maybe it's because of my "youngest" nature that I tend to see myself so capricious at times. Always forcing my ego to come forward- knowing it's wrong, but assured that my two brothers will act as "bumper" thus when things go wrong, I'd still be safe. And when things occasionally go right, I'm the one crossing my arms smiling victoriously.

I don't know if understanding this with tears means any sign of "maturity." Or is it when I finally hear what I wanted to hear, but realise that I'm back to the starting point with no clearer clue as how to decide, maturity? The clock is ticking.

I blame myself. I blame myself for being exceptionally weak.
Why won't I grow up?