A refrain to refrain from
Twinkle twinkle little star
How I wonder what you are
Up above the sky so high
Down below the earth you cry
Take my life
And relieve me of my strife
Because that's when I'll learn
To never get myself a burn.
--
To the ear, your music may be delectable
But to me, mistakes are inevitable
Where do I come from
It all sounds very rum
Now I know why loneliness is bitter
I go about with nary a sound hither.
Waterloo Blues - Part II
Disclaimer: Significant portions of this post were written while listening to unconventional western pop. The reader has been forewarned.
Now that exam week's almost coming to a close, I can't resist penning down my ideas and impressions that I've gathered over the last quarter of this small little place we'll call Waterloo.
So where did I leave you last time? Yes, I remember! I was telling you about how food never came to my hands anymore. Well, that still holds true today, but thanks be to whoever I owe it to, I no longer find the task as plodding as I used to find it back when I first came here. In fact, there is more to this than what crosses the mind. I've had to get adjusted to a whole host of things that at one point appeared to me as ridiculously unconventional. Call me narcissistic, but I don't understand this whole concept of "studying" before a final exam. In the past, I've always been subjected to such arcane amounts of review, number-crunching and practice that come exam time, I would rarely find myself needing to hit the books, unless of course the occasion presents itself to clear the infinitesimally small doubt that unforgettingly arises every once in a while. I guess that's the way university works then: they expect you to go fight wars without the slightest training. The training and preparation, in theory then, is left as an option for the interested to pursue.
This morning, I slept through my alarm clock. That was the extent of my fatigue. Take this seriously, my alarm clock, although ordinary looking on the outside, is no bouncy charlatan. It's one of those heavy duty ones that sound like a humongous hundred thousand ton truck backing up for parking. Sleeping though one of these is no ordinary feat. But I did manage to wake up at around 8:00 AM thanks to my internal biological clock, all cozy and comfy, when I realized, quite casually if I may add, that I had an examination to attend to at precisely 9:00 AM. That was when the coziness turned into a mild haziness…
After the chemistry exam was over, I was taken in by an unenlightening stupor. I rushed home, had lunch, shaved, took a shower and quickly got ready to leave. Showers are the only cure to all ailments, including mid-afternoon stupors.
Sat Dec 17 2005 02:42 AM
As we speak, I'm aboard a plane from Toronto to Vancouver. Right now, I'm somewhere in the whereabouts of 39,455 feet above Kamloops, heading straight towards the beatuiful city of Vancouver. I'd have loved to click a few photographs here and there through my window to present to you, but I don't reckon there'd be anything of particular interest on the other side of the window, especially at this time of the day. I steal a quick peek and I notice everyone but me is fast asleep. This is exciting. I'm the only strange guy with a blazingly bright light and a moderately modest laptop over and in front of me respectively. What a day, what a day.
I'm going to go wash my face right now. The captain just radioed us. Apparently, we're about to land in about ten minutes. The pretty stewardess said she would really appreciate it if I tucked my laptop beneath the seat. This is my second, and admittedly, last reminder. My teasing mind couldn't help but wonder what she might do to me if I chanced to disobey her commands…
Bio in the Caf, Calc at the Gym
Disclaimer: Significant portions of this post were written while listening to unconventional eastern rap. The reader has been forewarned.
Now correct me if I'm wrong, but I've always been under the impression that examinations, exercise and food were all but staunchly miscible. For instance, when I did biology way back last to last summer, we were asked to write our final provincial exam in a palatial gallery that so strangely reminds me of food and nourishment: the ever entertaining cafeteria. Upon hearing this, I went all Texan: "Bamchickalam, you gotcha my notcha, what's going on dude?" Alas, but my pleas went unheard. During the entire duration of the examination, I was constantly reminded of food, not any food, but of good tasting junk food, of chips, of juice, of chocolate and of everything a dietitian would disapprove of. I didn't feel well at all. And I could barely think of anything biology. But I did manage to ace that one question that had something remotely talking about digestive juices…
I'm going to have to recall those same sour memories once again tomorrow. The felt experiences, the misery of not being able to concentrate, the Texan interjections, the agony of delicious pictures orchestrating a frivolous dance in front of you, mocking, jeering and deriding, the tediousness of a subject that has held my fascination for the longest time ever, the heat of the silence, the pregnant pauses, and the pressure of the examination. Yes, this year round again, we've been asked to write our calculus final examination in an equally blasted palatial hall: the gymnasium. If I had been born Texan, you could have found me bouncing up and down on my head no end because of the craziness involved in the decisions the powers-in-be make these days.
Reminiscences of those old sportive days, of indoor soccer, of basketball, of volleyball, and of badminton all come flashing back to you, running havoc like little children returning home from vacationing in the Bahamas. Your adrenaline levels kick up a notch. The bemusing yet bemouldering mistiness confuses you no end. The differentials and integrals suddenly seem like unconquerable boulders. Your eyes begin to go blurry, your pulse rate quickens and simple arithmetic becomes as monstrous as a Godzilla consuming growth pills. Combine the dampness of the gym with the heat of the moment, and you'll quickly see what I'm talking about.
I have a dream, that one day, a day not too far away from today, we will have special examination halls dedicated solely to the purpose of writing examinations. A hall where all noise but yours is filtered out from your hearing. A hall where all smells, all memories and all incongruency are filtered from your poor, desperate, concentration-attempting mind.
