Dear diary,
Yesterday I had my first mutual conversation with my papa this year. He’d take me through memoirs of his early childhood life and the hideous ignoble campus lifestyle he partly resents though relishes bits of it.
He speaks of how he hooked and bedded enormous hotties in numbers at each night out. [Was that supposed to sink in dad?] At clubbing he was an extremophile; Monday to Saturday leaving Sunday for penance. This dishonourable lifestyle he totally dislikes and regrets living then although is thankful since it blessed him with friends, connections from which he has built an empire, now called laird and most of all a wife who satisfies his sexual ego. At the climax of all fun and sexual pleasures, academics was still arc.
Books had to be given first priority each day. Then the academic talk ensued. He started advising me on how to attain success, avoid retakes of which I’ve already amass two in a period of one semester and tips on how to scoop that 4.0 or above GPA every campus student wishes for. This when I was a washed with reasons why am no material for a 4.0 GPA.
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I early bird campus of the lassie faire lifestyle not the books.
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Am more married to guy’s pockets and beds than my books.
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Tuition comes last on the requisition fee list; upkeep and hostel definitely are first and second respectively.
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Avoid bisanja dad says, I already have two confirmed and one pending.
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I don’t need a scholarship because I want dad to spend that excess cash and avoid him cheating on mum.
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My job already set.
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Who gives a fuck about GPA. Who the fuck knows you is what’s trending in here.
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Am bright I and I know it. I don’t need to prove a point with GPA
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After all my hubby is working for me. Let me keep up appearance.
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My dreams venues are never around lecture rooms, they’re in bed, shopping malls, beaches and heaven.
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My legs speak louder than your academic papers.
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I always have to cheat to pass.
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I don’t know my lecturers names.
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I literally hate them thou like the tutors.
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Academic jokes nag me though can wink and jiggle at ones in Arabic.
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I don’t know the route to the library but can give you clear directions and advice on which fidder roads to use while you go or come back partying from Panamera.
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My shopping list has luxuries but handouts aint among.
