Epiphanies

 
Expectations.

That has been the one single belief that I have held on to for all this time, and has perhaps, been my biggest downfall.

Expectations of academic leniency. Expectations of easy ways out in school, and in life as a whole. Expectations of a rosy future. Expectations of being a rich and fabulous engineer, without hindsight of any/all the pitfalls. Expectations of people.

Reality however, eventually sinks in, and the last of the Titanics that went down the frigid icy cold depths of my local Atlantic waters has all but made this clear: my expectations of life, of people, and of any and every thing around me has grown utterly beyond the depths of realism.

Did I thought that I would graduate from among the world’s best institutions without needing to put in arduous hard work? Did I thought that I would sail through the the entire four treacherous terms here without having to put my life, my pride, and my self-confidence on the line?

Well, it’s time to wake up and realise that the life I have chosen for myself, this path I am heading down and these waters I am steaming through are not and have never been for the light-hearted.

It’s time to wake up and brush all those distractions and illusions and delusions aside, and prioritise on getting through these tough academic yardsticks that by the time I am done with, I would hold in my hands a piece of paper stating: I made it to the finish line.

All other concerns in life can wait till then, all other issues can be decided upon then, all other personal problems can be dealt with then --and only then.

But, if I don’t make it, and if I decide that this is not the path that I truly want, there should not be any expectations that I will pig-head my way down this road either.


  

Threads

I walked out of the library, exhausted from my revision to the thought of going home and taking a nap to end this half of what has been an extremely shitty few days that has led to my being constantly pissy and agitated. 

As I approached my bike, I noticed it no longer had a front wheel.

When we all this end?

As if I was not sick enough of everything already, this had to happen at such a time. 

All the people and all the things around me feel like they are hanging on a very thin thread right now: if I had said one upsetting word too many (or if I had not said or done anything when and where I should have), if I had decided not to care, if I had gotten fed up, if I had gotten tired of everything and everyone, if I really really preferred things to be otherwise, then so what? 

Paths That Don’t Converge

 
These three months have seen me being uncharacteristically calm amidst the mountain of pressure, and (relatively) unfazed, as I stand before the greatest academic struggle of my life.

Even from the very onset of the semester, it was clear that this was to be a war that would prove to be extremely swift, tremendously difficult, and unbearably gruesome.

But it was all just that: always just a lingering thought, one of certain possible failure, of defeat, and of the great financial consequences that would ensue --but nothing, and never more than just a lingering thought.

Earlier today, in a span of a mere four hours and over six pieces of paper, I experienced what it was like to be the instrument of my study account’s considerable implosion.

In the post-exam aftermath, I have felt relieved and glad (that it’s all over), frightened and fearful (of the consequences that now lie ahead), and pissed and upset.

That none of my course-mates --many of them worthy benchmarks-- fared any better than I did is a comforting thought, but it does not change the bitter fact that I will, for the first time in half a decade, founder in school.

Something has changed.

Indeed, the papers have gotten tougher, and even if I were to have put in every single last drop of my soul into it, I would still not have made it. But still, something has changed.

Over the past few months, I have grown increasingly more laid-back, more mellow and more contented. It is not that I have grown lazy or complacent --I can hardly imagine who could in such a semester-- but that I have lost my drive.

I no longer have the energy to fight, nor the energy to pounce. I have been drained of almost every enjoyment. I have been clipped and battered down to an inconsequential rubble.

My heart just isn’t in it anymore.

Since stepping onto that four-engined jet three months back, not a day has passed without me being clouded by the illusions of a career, and of a life that lay in waiting for me back in the tropics.

I have lost track of the world around me, and my goals and my priorities in life. And if the previous post is any indication, it is  that perhaps my subconscious mind is trying to speak.



   

Nights by the Yellow Lamp

 
Never before has this hit my head so hard.

But these past few months have really drove it deep into the contents of my skull, and I think I have finally come to see, grasp and understand it in a profound and fundamental way.

It matters not what your current/future situation in life is, how deep or numerous your relationships are, where or who you are… all these don’t at all make a difference because when the push really comes to shove, we are --each and every single one of us-- truly alone in life.

Alone.

Alone because at the end of the day, it’s your life, your one and only life, and there will be situations that no one else --not even your closest/most loved ones-- but you yourself, who will have to go through.

I feel as if I have woken up from a skewed, rosy imaginary realm into the solemn, sombre awareness of life’s bitter and (often) harsh realities.

Maybe its the duty and responsibility, and having my actions and decisions being so much in direct control of so many aspects and consequences of my life that has given me this new sense of…

A new sense of ...life being not being a bed of roses.

It’s scary, sometimes. The shadowing knowledge of life being so individual, that at the end of the day, it’s just going to be you --you, and no one else.

Life is not a joke.

Acceptance

I regained consciousness in a time period small enough for me to realise that a mere split-second ago, it was the slamming of the door that woke me up from my sweet slumber.

It's a sunny Sunday morning, and none of my 10:00AM alarms have yet rang, so I snuggle under the sheets some more.

I got out of bed and into the toilet, and later, as I showered, I thought to myself why I felt so profoundly different today.

Why did I not feel drained, and emptied of all my humanity?

Why did I not feel despair, and desperation?

Why, I kept wondering.

Then it struck me minutes later, when I recalled what it was that I dreamt of last night: I had just gotten home. I was driving again. I had my hair cut. I had my white coffee. I had my car washed. I was with all the things and all the people I loved. I got to see my parents again.

I was home.

Today, somehow, the thought of not being able to pass two academic subjects seem rather, small. And minuscule. Today, somehow, I am not that bothered anymore.

Perhaps I have finally come to terms with it, and am done with the shock and horror. Weighted academic standings and the huge financial costs notwithstanding, failing two critical pathetic little subjects is not the end of the world.

There are still many decades of life left to live.

And so life goes on.

Times Gone By

It was another one of those nights where I had reached mental saturation. Lost and confused in the jungle of trigonometric mayhem, I was tired and my mind was twisted beyond any semblance of academic sanity.

I --as what I have always done in times like these-- closed the books, the notes, switched off the calculator, and packed everything up. 

I had the table lamp drench this room in it's mellow, soothing 3000K rays, and opened myself a nice bottle of chilled Budweiser.

Going through my -by now rather significantly sized- library of photos, I started off this time from the very beginning.

Pictures of me being seventeen. Pictures of places that are no longer the same. Pictures of people that are no longer with us. Pictures of family and friends and pets that remind you of a life you have all those thousands of kilometers away. Pictures that remind you of the places you went and all the things that happened back then. Pictures of gadgets and possessions deemed so valuable back then. Pictures of irrelevant things.

Pictures.

So much can be captured in pictures: the sights, the sounds, the people, the situation, the words spoken, the feelings felt, the thoughts you had, the dreams you were dreaming.

They reminded me so much of myself in the past, as well as all those around me. It's a stark contrast to the people we are today: so much more mature, so much more grown-up, so much more seasoned, so much more complex, so much... less innocent.

The days and the nights when things were so much simpler, so much more unhindered by so many responsibilities, so much more honest, so much more exciting, and so much more real, well, it's sad, isn't it... that they're all gone?