26/2/2010

Alarm goes off at 6. Vaguely recollect a dreadful dream about missing a deadline. Deadline was of fantasy football understandably, no other deadlines have been dealt with independently the past 4 years. Fall into an illusion, for about 20 mins, of being asleep with the snooze shattering it every 5 mins. Cussing ain’t the way to begin a brand new day filled with whole lot of opportunities, but who am I kidding? Everyday’s the goddamn same. Give a friend a ring and let it ring until he acknowledges. Spirits heighten knowing there is a fellow sufferer. Put a brush in the mouth and step out the door.

Put on the shoes, let the cobwebs be, remember forgetting to get them socks washed. Go to friend’s room, ask him why he isn’t up? ‘Watching porn late into the night, can’t make it’. Don’t coerce him, he was okay with an almost similar late night football excuse yesterday. Drag myself to the basketball court, no one’s there yet. Stand there waiting for a good 15 mins. Avoid eye-contact with passersby. Run across the court 10 times, curse the parched throat. Should have drank some water. Fail at hopping miserably, do some crunches, believe in ‘pain is good’. Call it a day. Count, up to 5.

Have breakfast, gaze at the oily hand, take bath, grab a book, go to class. No competition for attention between crazy Yossarian and intellectual drivel. Obediently avoid looking at the lecturer. Power cut and no generator back up. Very pleasing. Agree to scream ‘shit’ when the power comes back on, not when it goes. Attempt to illuminate the room by smiling. No such luck. Give attendance. Leave.

Go to room, sleep with alarm set for 13:15.  Do an encore with the snooze. 13:50, class at 1400, haven’t skipped a single class yet, let’s do that, go for lunch. Come back, update the fantasy teams, Villa and United not in action. Browse some more, come across Arshavin’s website, chuckle my ass off, tweet about it. Browse again, cancel the meals, 3 day vacation coming up, discover being granted a credit for movie appreciation. No need to go to PT again but guess I will.

Call dad, ask him to pick me up while going home. (Pack my bags, stuff back all those apples and oranges. Brave mom’s chagrin.) Tolerate him making fun of the Proteas. Reach home, switch on TV, do nothing. Ask mom for hard-disk ‘No, delete stuff from the old’. Ask dad for hard-disk ‘Wait till next month’s payday’. Tell him I can live with that.

Me and (my nemesis) Math

I hate math, yet I continue to dawdle in it by my own volition. Well, at least I make the initial choice which then compels me and leaves me with no other option but to do it, even though every part of me screams in horror and shrinks at its sight. For example, consider this latest sem:

I opted for a math course just because the majority felt it was the best bet. Since every dick wanted a slice of it, they had to step in and set some limits. Consequently, I found myself outside the zone and with a little bit of thought, I should have been like “it was all for the best”. However, I got agitated since there was no place for me in the barn and every other sheep I knew had gotten in.

Desperate times warrant desperate measures and a lengthy letter bemoaning my “misfortune” I dashed off to the Dean. Prompt was the action and a place in the barn the conclusion. Happy chap I was and gloated the reaps of perseverance I did.

(what is so special about this barn? The shepherd in charge never does a head count)

The seas were calm and the ship sailed smoothly until the first storm came about. The men, lax till then, admirably worked diligently and fought off the storm but I sat there brooding why I had come along for the journey. The men, content with their action, joyously returned to their nonchalant ways but…. can I after all that inaction?

Here’s a simple comparison of my grades between math and non-math courses:

Sanskrit: B, quite boring and unremarkable.

English Literature: A very satisfying A-, the classes under Mr.Marathe were by far my most enjoyable and most rewarding. Even my short story received kind remarks. I would have experienced none of it had there not been 2 add/drops. One would think that I would jump at the opportunity to do such courses, but the inexplicable dread of interactions drives me instinctively to the drab arms of math, more often than I would like.

Gandhi and India: A- (a mail was sent showing the cumulative scores and I was 3rd in the (quite distinguished) class of 60. Usually in courses involving math, I find myself third from bottom in a (completely undistinguished) class of 40)

Introduction to Biology: A. These two courses relied to an extent on presentations and even though I’m not a big fan, I bit the bullet and it worked wonders.

Linear Algebra: C, Probability: C-, Maths I: C, Maths II: C

Critical Economic Theory: C-. Not the typical math, but math nonetheless…. You get the picture by now.

All this suggests that I should have been elated on being alloted Environmental Planning instead of Linear Programming…. but NO, I had to ruin it all just because the shepherd didn’t count his sheep in one of them.

p.s: Regrets may be bad for the mental state, they are certainly good for blogging.