In school , after every exam, my teachers would complain “You would score better if you just wrote MORE!” Of course now in college, I’m just another register number so no teacher would know if I was the girl with the 80 in her Business and Corporate writing paper, the subject which requires you to be as brief as possible !
I like brevity, when it comes to writing. Personally, I think that a lot more could be said with shorter pieces, instead of those that ran into pages and pages of nothingness. I remember an incident where I represented school in an another schools inter-school Creative Writing competition. There were two entrants from each school, and the other guy from mine was.. well.. a bit over confident when it came to his writing. My story was about 3 sides long, and his ran into 8 or 9. I will never forget that look on his face when he saw how short my story was. Anyway, I came second. And he… didn’t.
The other day in college, we explored Flash Fiction, and I LOVED it! My favourite piece would be Hemingway’s six word flash fiction story :
For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn
The story is sad, yes, but I love it more for the fact that it shows how the speaker/person/character who put up the sign is attempting to overcome such a difficult thing. Every time I read it, a new wave of awe develops.
Nice article on Flash Fiction here
I feel like a card board cut-out. Two dimensional.
Of who, I don’t know. Myself maybe. I’m tired, so tired every moment. And before you say “It’s because you don’t eat breakfast” no, not that kind of tired. I find myself running from class to class, lecture to lecture, womenwomenwomenwomenwomenwomen all around. My legs just carry me around without me knowing where I am going, just that I have to be someplace. Like I’m on auto-pilot.
Exactly a month ago, I started college. And I just realized that I was probably holding my breath this whole time wondering if someone was going to stop me and say ‘ok time to get back to real life now’ . And then whoosh I would find myself back at school, back in the corridors, back with my school friends and back with the familiar faces all around me.
Do I still want that? Familiar has a new meaning now. Familiar is now brown and cream. Familiar now is the college song, the canteen, the sloping driveways, the notice boards, the three flights of stairs I have to walk to psychology class. Familiar is the wooden benches, the comfort of the studio. Familiar now is ma’am.
I looked at a picture today, and I miss it all. I miss knowing I’d find a seat on the bus. I miss knowing that the bus would arrive on time. I miss knowing that I didn’t have keep track of which stop, that I could sit wherever I pleased. I miss knowing attendance would be taken only twice a day, and not six times. I miss being able to walk into the library any time I wanted to, and borrow anything I liked.
But I’m not holding my breath anymore. Faces are blurry. Schedules are fuzzy. Voices are faint.
I’m in the grey space. The ‘adjusting period’. There’s an explanation to everything.
Sitting in my dad’s cubicle, in the chair behind his desk. I feel like those little children who, when they visit their dad’s office, yearn to grow up quickly and become “adults”. I should add that I just visited school to pick up my marks card and my transfer certificate, and am now officially a college girl.
So, my results came out some time ago. I did pretty ok my two best subjects being Literature and Political Science , and that seems fitting enough since they are the ones I enjoy the most ! I’m happy I decided to continue with Literature in college, but only time will tell if I’ll be any good at it at the degree level. And lets just say, I made the right decision in not continuing with history
I am loving the weather here! I made a post a while ago complaining about the heat and voila! Rain!
I switched to the Advanced Mode on my EEEPC ,and it’s so much better! Customizing my desktop has become so much simpler! Since I still have some time left on my hands, lets see what I can do to personalize this thing more..
It’s only been a couple of months since school officially “finished”, and already it seems staying in touch is the hardest thing. Obviously, I was one of those people who believed that she would be in constant communication with ok, if not all her friends, then maybe at least the ones who it was possible to stay in touch with. I’m not even saying the ones that “deserve” to be in touch with because to me it seems thats claiming a part of their lives that was easy to give to me when we were able to see each other everyday.
It’s not like I’ve forgotten our little rituals that took place almost without me consciously noticing they had become rituals: walks to the blue fence, “water” breaks that ended up being chatting sessions while we leaned against the lockers, the corner in the class near the shelves that always brought out the deepest darkest secrets. Who can forget the the angled corner of the granite that lay below the (nowgoneistillcantbelieveitomg) cherry tree. And the spot against the other blue fence, opposite our favorite cluster of the trees-with-the-green-almond-bomb fruit.
But somehow I feel the time for long and sad goodbyes has come and gone, and simply dragging it out makes it only more painful. Sometimes I wake up in the mornings wishing that I was going to school (well just for all the reasons except the learning bit), but most mornings I wake up with a feeling of “getting on” with life. I’ve made my share of mistakes in this whole “getting out of school while still remaining the tightest of friends” tango. It’s a strange phase in our lives, and what makes it all the more difficult is the fact that it affects us, the old us, the us that was always comfortable with talking of other people’s relationships and other people’s distancing. But now it feels like I have to make a choice (and this will like everything else I say sound highly exaggerated) between doing new things, and wishing I was still there in the midst of that grey-white-granite-ness, casually strolling from my locker to class with a friend beside me laughing over some comment that sounded perfectly right in my head, but so glaringly wrong when I said it out loud!
I don’t think there’s a resolution to this feeling. Maybe one day staying in touch wont matter to me so much, I can’t say. But for now, while I know it does, I just want to be able to say that hey, I miss you too and no, I haven’t forgotten what it felt like to be a part of us.