It's that time again, when final exams are near and studying seems impossible. One would think we'd get bored of leaving everything till the last minute, and prepare early just ONCE, see what it feels like, you know, but our obstinacy knows no bounds.
I've said this before, and I'm saying it again; I can't believe I've spent a whole year in college: this college, this hostel, with these people, in this place. I'm soon going to be a grown-up senior, in second year, probably seem intimidating to my juniors, and people still in school, and yet I have no sense of how so much time went by. How, and where.
Life's been kinda decent. Political science ka project finally khatam hua. Exams from 6th. Party on 10th. *wink*
Nothing great, but nothing bad either.
The cooler's blowing in my face, and I can feel my heart-shaped pillow under my elbow. It's hot outside, and tense in. It's two o'clock; I should be studying. I've just realised, through talking to others, that I don't care about most stuff. It's like this perfect detachment, or indifference, whichever you like, to most things. Food, marks, social circle, clothes, all these things that people spend so much energy over. I don't quite know if that is a good thing or bad. What I do know is that it's always been like that; I've always been like that. I now get what my dad meant when he said I wasn't ambitious; it's like I don't have that drive that makes people do stuff, work hard, achieve, envy, even. It's weird.
Oh also, I read The Wandering Falcon, by Jamil Ahmad. It's set in Pakistan and Afghanistan. It's mainly about the shift of civilisation from nomadic cultures to settled townships. It is a series of stories, many stories, many people, and yet there seems to be this continuity, this thread that links everything in your mind, and you can't quite identify it. It's probably not as great as Thousand Splendid Suns, but the story has this easy flow to it; it's not heavy and laced with emotion. The emotion is laced under every simple line, an emotion that stays with you, even though you don't quite realise you're that involved in the story. It's beautiful.
Anyway, back to studies now. Turrah!
I've said this before, and I'm saying it again; I can't believe I've spent a whole year in college: this college, this hostel, with these people, in this place. I'm soon going to be a grown-up senior, in second year, probably seem intimidating to my juniors, and people still in school, and yet I have no sense of how so much time went by. How, and where.
Life's been kinda decent. Political science ka project finally khatam hua. Exams from 6th. Party on 10th. *wink*
Nothing great, but nothing bad either.
The cooler's blowing in my face, and I can feel my heart-shaped pillow under my elbow. It's hot outside, and tense in. It's two o'clock; I should be studying. I've just realised, through talking to others, that I don't care about most stuff. It's like this perfect detachment, or indifference, whichever you like, to most things. Food, marks, social circle, clothes, all these things that people spend so much energy over. I don't quite know if that is a good thing or bad. What I do know is that it's always been like that; I've always been like that. I now get what my dad meant when he said I wasn't ambitious; it's like I don't have that drive that makes people do stuff, work hard, achieve, envy, even. It's weird.
Oh also, I read The Wandering Falcon, by Jamil Ahmad. It's set in Pakistan and Afghanistan. It's mainly about the shift of civilisation from nomadic cultures to settled townships. It is a series of stories, many stories, many people, and yet there seems to be this continuity, this thread that links everything in your mind, and you can't quite identify it. It's probably not as great as Thousand Splendid Suns, but the story has this easy flow to it; it's not heavy and laced with emotion. The emotion is laced under every simple line, an emotion that stays with you, even though you don't quite realise you're that involved in the story. It's beautiful.
Anyway, back to studies now. Turrah!
