You can guess...

All right, you could guess this. Yes, I froze in her beauty to the point that I rushed to the door so that it wouldn't shut in front of her. Yes, we had the kind of eye contact that made me that makes me think that there could be a slim probability that she likes me. Yes, I'm aware that I am probably wrong with that.

Now I'm done with that, time for some studies.

Well... I got my target grade of an A* in A-Level Physics today... then, in Further Maths, I aced a past paper from the senior Maths challenge to the surprise of both myself and my Teacher. To be honest, I hadn't even checked whether that had been a UKMT or not.

Great. Now my genius is on display for everyone. I even got called over by the careers office to talk about attending these Cambridge events I'm really not into. Yet, the thing that I most desire is not mine to be with.

Poetry Club... I wrote an okay poem today, though it clearly superseded the works of the other people there despite their speciality having been English Literature. 

The task was to find two verbs, two nouns, and two adjectives from the dictionary -- each of which had the same starting letter. Given that there were five of us, we would then mix the words so that we had a set of words at our disposal which we would have to embed within the poem.

Clearly, we were all shocked at the task ahead. When I got my word list, I couldn't make a single comparison between them. What on earth did a Dodecahedron have to do with Disenfranchising something? So then I thought to myself... This Anthony guy chose the task; not me. Let's turn the tables and write a poem on how difficult it is for me to write a poem and to shed some light on why on earth I -- a Maths, Physics and Computer Science student -- am in a Poetry club. At the end, time was running out so I really wanted to shout Fuck! but instead, I just used some fancy alliteration to hint at my nervousness.

So here it is...

These catastrophic clauses seem impalpable

As Flotsam inundates my mind dead.

Yet Anthony forces its contents into a Tank

Spinning, my life is etched into the edges.

The edges of a Dodecahedron --

where I only have twelve months left;

my time runs out.

Yet still this discursive poem consumes

my talent --

Disenfranchising the Physics:

Dismembering the knowledge within me.

As I fail to finish fumbling for words,

my only hope is in iniquity.

I'll admit, it's not my best. But hey, that's what you get at 4 'o' clock in the afternoon from a tired Mathematician. 

Tomorrow, I have to leave home late for some Computing and then finally troll my former Maths Teacher... I'm not going to give any details just yet to avoid jeopardising the mission but here's an outline:

• My former Maths Teacher from Oxford University and I always used to play chess. He was the guy who made me good at the subject... to the point where I started beating him (go figure).
• He also volunteered to disprove every single Mathematical Theory that I ever came up with (including Angle Trisection, an infinitely small number, a proof of the recurrence of a certain cellular automata and so on...)
• He left the school a few months ago without ever telling me... clearly, my friend and I were sad to have lost such a legend.
  
• I once built a search engine (no, I won't tell you what it's called) which is based on Google but works slightly better, mainly because of its socially orientated algorithms that aim to exploit information that is relevant to me... well, this search engine returned some details on my former Maths Teacher (ahem, Twitter) from where it then found out a mathematical talk that he will be having. 
• I intend to go there and listen to what he's got to say... could be fun. But because I'm ever so good at hacking, I managed to give myself out as a visiting professor specialising in Topology. He will be the only person there who will know. Should be funny.

By the way, don't expect me to ask the girl out tomorrow since her school has half-term now... I won't see her tomorrow :(

Anyway, let me return to work.