Running
Her breath was coming in strained, the air stabbing her lungs. But she continued running, she had to get away from them, from it. From everyone. Tears streamed down her face, warm against the cold wind.
She fell.
Her foot had got caught in a wrangled root at the base of an ancient oak, a sigh of relief escaped her parted lips as her head made contact with the (luckily) moss-covered ground. It was the only way she would have stopped, she was glad for it. Annoyed, but glad.
She didn’t want to run anymore.
As the throbbing in her ankle subsided, she sat up, leaning against the tree, her eyes ever watchful. The forest was thickly wooded and silent. They couldn’t catch her here.
Especially as no one was chasing her.
Those four walls that enclosed many other sets of four walls, making up her home were too constricting. It was hard to breathe in the spacious home. Everything was too constrictive – what her family wanted from her, what her friends expected of her, what her job set out for her. What she wanted for herself. Societal expectations – time.
Time was a killer.
Raha couldn’t keep on running.
You can’t run away each time something bad happens, they would say when she was at the academy. She rolled her eyes at this back when she was 15, she rolled her eyes at it now she was 25. Running was all she could do.
Pulling a few loose branches over herself, she lay back and rested her eyes, sleep coming easily.
—-
A selection of children were taken to the Academy every five years, usually selected for their academic prowess (at age 5, this usually meant the ability to ask intelligent questions that stumped the Elders of the village, or, as time passed, the President) or their sporting abilities.
What they did to the children at the Academy was a secret, the participants’ minds were altered such that they would not remember their time at the Academy. But they would remember what they were taught, it took dozens of neuroscientists years to crack the code of memory. It was something that was only ever employed at the Academy.
If a child was trained for running, they would be unable to stop. They weren’t trained to run races, they were trained for long-distant endurance. Survival of the fittest was manufactured at the Academy.
—-
It was time to take over her own destiny, to do what she wanted and not what everyone else wanted. It was tough, coming to terms with what she wanted to do, it was hard to see what that even was. Sleeping wasn’t helpful, her dreams were just manifestations of her memories. The people were imprinted within, she could not stop thinking about the people that shaped her, that hurt her.
Grabbing the loose bark, she pulled herself up, limping towards the clearing near her, her ankle will heal soon, it always did. Finding herself did not mean stops. It was an onward journey outwards.
All by herself.
Finding oneself is a lonely journey.
To be open
There’s something for everyone that seems to hold them back from their true potential. It may be as small as a lack of opportunity to shine, or something far more complex. Usually it’s those barriers that you’ve placed yourself that are worth working on overcoming.
I think I’m beginning to come to terms with my personal obstacle. It’s a funny one, because it’s something that I did myself, which is really silly. I guess it comes to being able to make decisions by thinking into the future – but teenage girls (and boys too, I guess, I’m not too clued up on their thoughts) rarely think much further into the future than the next few months. So, there’s no real point in getting annoyed at past Yusra, as it’s not really that productive. I’m going to try to change that. It’s going to be an upward battle all the way, I bet it’s easier to climb Everest cause the climbers get the Sherpas to help them…
My personal obstacle is my inability to be open. Now this is tough, cause it’s very much an inherent part of me and I’m not looking to change as much that as the way I deal with things, y’know? Apparently, leaders are people that wear their values/beliefs on their sleeves and are able to be authentic. They don’t shy away from difficult discussions and can speak their mind.
Now, there’s some of that that I’m pretty sure is what I already do. Some, I don’t. It stems from a lot of shyness, I don’t want to be in-your-face and sometimes, that’s not a bad thing. And because I am who I am, I put up a bunch of barriers around me, so I suppose I am a little difficult to decipher, I’ve had plenty of people tell me before that I’m not really easy to suss out (that said, plenty of people have been able to work it out, I wouldn’t know, you’re going to have to tell me!). I suppose that’s not great when you’re trying to lead people. I suppose I didn’t have that problem at uni, because everyone I was ‘leading’, so to speak, knew me. People aren’t always going to know me, so that’s going to be tough.
What I struggle with is how to go about doing that. But I’m sure I’ll work it out. I bet feeling confident has a lot to do with it, exert an aura of confidence and you can get anyone to do anything. Not sure why. That said, people do what I want them to anyway, it must be my charismatic personality.
That said, perhaps I should also be a little more open and authentic in my personal life as well as professional. That’s a whole lot tougher. I guess I should work on it, but I’m not too sure I want to.
Return.
It’s been a while since I last posted on this blog, and it’s been a busy while, I’ve done things like graduate from university, move to the other end of the country, become an official adult and fly many planes. Or on many planes, I’ve not yet been able to fly a plane, that’s the dream (along with owning one).
I’ve decided that while I have plenty of things to be getting on with in my new life, there’s always room for a little more, and that little more comes in the form of a little more creativity. I love writing, it’s very liberating, I’m much better at expressing myself in written word than I am spoken (I’m not an eloquent speaker, and as much as I would hate to admit it, I’m not the kind of person that’s going to make big influential speeches. though that’s probably not true, I could do it with enough preparation and stuff, but never in the heat of the moment. I trip over my own tongue.) I have some problems with going off the topic, as shown in the previous sentence and a half, but I like writing and really don’t mind what it comes out looking as to the readers.
So now that we’ve determined that I like writing, we can focus on the creativity portion: you may or may not have read my pieces of fiction that I’ve either published on this here blog or shared with you otherwise, cause I felt like you would enjoy it. However you might have very quickly noticed that I’m not very good at completing the stories, which is usually not very productive! (I’ve got a folder on my computer filled with half-finished stories!)
Therefore, I’ve set myself a goal as of this very second; I will update my blog with my ~thoughts~ (which is kind of the purpose of a blog called ‘yusra’s mind’. But I will also attempt to write something up every now and then and then publish them. I know, I know, that’s not a very SMART goal (specific, measurable, achievable, realistic, time-bound; what can I say, work loves acronyms, I’ve started to develop an affinity towards them). Anyway, that’s what to expect. If you choose to follow this blog.
You’re probably wondering why I’ve decided to do all of this; it’s a very multi-edged sword, so much so that I don’t think they make swords with that many edges, I don’t think they’d be very efficient, they may as well be screwdrivers! So, reasons:
– I missed the blog a teeeny tiny bit.
– It was brought up in conversation that I haven’t posted in a while (and upon looking back at the content, it’s not half-bad, really!)
– I have had many changes in my life, I therefore have many many many thoughts and I think it’s about time I started clarifying them. So expect many rants and run on sentences and things that don’t make sense. also, this means I don’t have to disturb other people with my thoughts (I still do, but you kind of have the choice).
– Kind of leading on from that, I think it’ll be a good thing, it helps me to write and somehow a pseudo-audience makes writing much more doable. What can I say, I love being the centre of attention (in fact probably my next blog post).
– also I really think I can do this fiction thing, it’s what I’ve been aiming for since forever, just need more practice. :p
Yusra
(don’t ask me why I signed off, it must be the hideous number of emails I’ve started sending)
Of Snakes and Private Investigators
I’d like to apologise. Firstly for not posting that story I said I would. Secondly for neglecting this blog so much. And thirdly, on your behalf, for not enjoying my blog enough to encourage me to write more. (I’d also like to apologise for my apparently appalling grammar that I have recently been made aware of).
- I’ll post that story, I’ve currently hit a block that I cannot manoeuvre around without severe damage to myself and others.
- I don’t have much to write about any more. Purely because I’ve deemed my life unexciting.
- You should be ashamed of yourself. After all: (not that this blog has much to do with education)
Nine tenths of education is encouragement. – Anatole France, Nobel Literature Laureate
So, for the past week or two, I’ve been preoccupied. At first, it was constantly refreshing my email like a maniac. I don’t think I was this obsessed even when I was waiting for responses from universities. No, it was not the job opportunity of a lifetime. No, I wasn’t waiting to hear back from a literary agent. I was waiting for my Pottermore email.
So, on the night of the 18th of August, a particularly normal night, I checked my email out of habit. For once, I wasn’t dreaming of being sorted into Gryffindor. And there, sitting under the Important and Unread tab, was my Pottermore email. My heart pounding, I clicked the link, signed in and thus my journey began.
I raced through it to get to Diagon Alley, where I set up my Gringotts account and then, after choosing the best owl, I got to get my wand. I wanted a phoenix-tail ’cause Phoenix’s are cool and all. I got a dragon-tail wand. And frankly, I prefer it. Because dragons are awesome.
And then, I rushed off to Hogwarts to get sorted. I’ve never been more nervous in my life. It was easier opening my university replies than opening my eyes after I finished the sorting quiz. (this is a gross exaggeration, but after my rather boring month of August, it sure felt that way). Instead of seeing the red and gold lion that was Gryffindor, a green and silver snake graced my screen. Oddly though, I wasn’t disappointed. It felt right. (And this is where people stop reading and start thinking I have some problem.)
There was a very long and detailed welcome message. It assured me that Slytherin’s are destined for Greatness and that we’re pretty much awesomeness personified. Oh and that there’s a very thin-line between Gryffindors and Slytherins. So, basically, if I’d answered one question differently, the title of today’s post would be ‘Of Lions…” I was also told Gryffindors were basically wannabe Slytherins. I like to believe this. I spent the rest of the week brewing potions, keeping Slytherin in the lead and wondering why duelling wasn’t working.
And before that, well, I spent it reading Sherlock Holmes. And I have decided once and for all, that the most awesome character in the history of characters has to be, without doubt, Sherlock Holmes. The man’s a genius, hilarious and an all time hero. He’s inspired me to go into Private Investigating (because solving mysteries for a living? My life dream). His creator (who is probably ten times as amazing as Holmes to have come up with him) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, has inspired me to write mystery. Even though we all know I’m terrible at it. It doesn’t matter. I’m thinking, with the skills obtained at university, the power of modern-day technology and Sherlock Holmes at my side; I’d become an invincible Investigator. Genius criminals will shudder at my name. And then, I shall take over the world! (Or, you know, help the less fortunate.)
Basically, I concluded that this would make the perfect story. An alternate future for an alternate me. She’d have to be slightly different. But the story wouldn’t be any less amazing. Hopefully, this idea actually pans out.
The Return of the Yusra
Hah! That was actually a really cool title. Almost cool enough for my nonexistent followers to forgive me for my 3 month disappearance. I wish I could tell you it was because I got kidnapped by some evil entity (because everyone knows your average kidnapper cannot kidnap a Yusra) [it is at this point in time I hope all those who have been named Yusra are as awesome as myself]). I wish I could tell you it’s because I went on a quest into Outer Space to discover cool, Outer Spacey things. I wish I could tell you it’s because I was working on my awesome novel (although, this is partially true, we will get to this later). But, really, it’s because I traveled half-way across the world and back. Oh and because I had absolutely nothing to write about (other than my travels, of course). And maybe because I’ve been refreshing Pottermore and my email. [but, that’s for another blog, when I finally get in!]
When I last left you, I was (and this is the point I go re-check my blog) being all intellectual. Not today. Today, I shall go on and on and on about how I’ve lost the Thing. (by which I do not mean a member of the Fantastic Four).
This Thing I speak of is what allows me to write awesome stories. Like the two or three (I really can’t remember) that I’ve published on this blog. I’ve seem to have misplaced it. Or it’s off on a really long holiday, probably in a Black Hole (so then it will finally reveal to me what happens when you enter a Black hole, other than being squished because of the humongous amount of gravity.) Or maybe it ran away, leaving me forever. Maybe because I’ve already written my best piece ever and should have had it published. Whatever the reason, I can no longer imagine.
Sure, I can imagine. But it’s no good. Case in point: yesterday, when this rather depressing news arrived in my active thoughts, it was magnificently countered by an amazing story. I wrote it. pen and paper and all. I woke up this morning and it was pure, unadulterated, rubbish. It was so bad. I mean it was great, but it didn’t work. It wasn’t written well and I hated it. I normally love my work. I normally don’t have to force myself to imagine. I used to think of entire Worlds. Places. Universes. And now it all seems boring. Obscure. It won’t work. My characters no longer tell me. I have to make them do stuff. and it won’t work.
Frustratingly, I do believe that I’ve lost my Thing, and I need your help to find it. Thus, every week up until I have to return to the world of Capacitors, Resistors and Semiconductors, I will publish a story. I will then require feedback.
Since barely anyone actually comments on this blog, I’ll rely on the ratings (it seems that someone out there reads and rates my posts, thankies to them). Or whatever. I’m just posting to dig myself out of this mind-block-well-thing I’ve somehow got myself into.
Image.
In today’s world; image is everything. And that’s upsetting. Especially when the words to each image are dictated by society, stereotypes and the media. It no longer matters what you have inside of you (you know, in your soul or what-not; not in your body, as that’s basically blood and guts). Say you have a speech to give – it does not matter that what you spew from your mouth are the words of a genius [by which I mean you]; if you don’t look the part; people will look for something wrong with your speech. They will no longer give you the respect enigmatic geniuses deserve.
That’s not to say that everyone does this; that’s not to say that only I am capable of seeing through the hair and make-up of those behind the podium. But, today, I’m not discussing personal image (if I were, I’d be going into race and all that fun-stuff). I’m not discussing society’s views on individuals.
Today, I am discussing society’s views on countries. A country’s image is based solely on the media and the politicians. It can make or break a country. If a country has one bad egg; the entire nation the entire population; is held in disdain. It is not only blamed for the actions of the bad egg, but painted by the same brush. Suddenly, it does not matter if that one person acted of his/her own accord, it does not matter whether that person’s mental condition was sub-par; nothing matters. That country is evil.
If the government messes up (or is messed up); the people get the brunt of the pain. After all, it’s the people that suffer if sanctions are imposed, it’s the people that suffer if bombs start falling from the sky. It’s the people that suffer. It’s the same as the individual. After all, the government is made up of several individuals (yes, even dictatorships). If those people are insane, power-hungry, heartless individuals; that does not mean that the people are. That does not mean that the people are to blame. That does not mean that the people should be punished. If the people have not revolted against said individuals, one cannot conclude that the population supports them. Sometimes, most times, people want to survive. If survival means living under the rule of idiots, then they will. After all, revolution, rebellions all lead to more uncertainty. And less chance of survival. Not every one lived comfortably enough to speak their mind.
Despite this, the media will make it seem as if each individual that answers to that nationality ought to be held personally responsible for the mistakes and stupidity of their “democratically” elected governments, of those few people. People will throw out years of evidence of pure goodness for one day’s worth of bad. And then, you have those governments that feed to the fire growing; and suddenly; suddenly, you’re being blamed for everything. Suddenly, people don’t want to have anything to do with you. Suddenly, people are calling for the demise of everyone in your country. Suddenly, that baby, that child, is held responsible for something it wouldn’t even be able to voice let alone understand. Suddenly, they’re calling for the blood of people that are trying to survive. Suddenly, you’re being judged by the country you call home. You’re from x, so therefore you must be a bloodthirsty, corrupt individual. You must harbour terrorist sympathies. You must support those people. Otherwise you’d have done something about it.
Because, when it’s not your problem; it’s all very easy. Isn’t it? I mean, all you have to do is _____. How hard can it be?
It makes me furious. When people not only accuse you of things that someone else entirely is responsible for; but when they refuse to listen to reason. That’s how prejudices are born. That’s how people begin to judge people without having spoken to them. That’s when the image hurts. It’s worse than when people don’t listen to your intelligent speeches because of what you look like. Because then, they’re not asking for your blood on their plate.
My solution: leave us all alone. Stop branding us. Stop and think. Stop and listen. I’m a person. You’re a person. I think. You think. I speak. You speak. I listen. You listen. I have rights. You have the same rights. I’m not responsible for my country’s leaders’ actions when they’re shady and debatable. You’re not either. Then, why must you blame them? Don’t. Please. I’d like to have everyone to have a home and family to go to at the end of the day. I’m sure you would, too.
also, I apologise for the one-month hiatus.
Flying.
Recently, I’ve taken to telling people my life ambitions. Mostly because it’s fun. And also, I actually, really do want to do the things I say I want to do. It isn’t my ‘wouldn’t it be nice to x,y,z?’ [which reminds me, some people think the incorporation of unknown variables into everyday conversation constitutes as maths. I would like to say that this is untrue.] I actually truly, really, want to (in no particular order [actually, it’s the order in which I thought of them]):
- Write a novel under pseudonym and donate any and all profits to some cause or the other.
- Work as a super-spy.
- Learn every root-language possible (so that I can at least understand most languages of the world).
- Travel to every single country of the world; no matter how ‘insignificant’ it may well be.
- Work for Google.
- Become a CEO of some company. (I’m thinking of Private Security firm at the moment, that just might be The Millennium Series talking, though.]
- Become President of Somewhere.
- Instigate World Peace.
- End World Hunger.
- Teach.
- Invent something.
- Become a Youtube vlogger. ‘Cause it looks like fun.
- Be a Better Person.
- Smile more.
- Be KNOWLEDGEABLE about Stuff.
please note that I did not feel the need to state the more obvious things like finishing my education etc. These are my life-dreamsthatnotmanypeoplehaveinconjunctionwitheachother as opposed to dreamsmostnormalpeoplehave.
Anyway, as you can quite clearly see, these are near-impossible. I say near because nothing is impossible. Take working for Google, for instance, other than the fact that programming makes my skin-crawl, working for Google is entirely within my reach. In fact, list time 2.0:
Things that I can totally realistically do:
- Work for Google.
- Teach.
- Invent something.
- Become a Youtube vlogger. ‘Cause it looks like fun.
- Be a Better Person.
- Smile more.
- Be KNOWLEDGEABLE about Stuff.
Erm, yes. Not much, now I think of it. Sadly, enough. And yes, invention is totally possible because I am an engineerinthemaking and Engineers are Socially Acceptable Inventors (and Mad Scientists, but that’s another story).
Things that I would like to think that I could possibly do. i.e. I have the potential in me to do so and Stuff Happens.
- Write a novel under pseudonym and donate any and all profits to some cause or the other.
- Work as a super-spy.
- Become a CEO of some company. (I’m thinking of Private Security firm at the moment, that just might be The Millennium Series talking, though.]
I put super-spy in there because, well, you have to apply to be a super-spy and you need qualifications and so it’s like a job. Only just more cool.
Stuff that I would Love but probably Won’t be Able to Do due to doing EverythingElseIwantToDo.
- Learn every root-language possible (so that I can at least understand most languages of the world).
- Travel to every single country of the world; no matter how ‘insignificant’ it may well be.
I put root-languages here since I’m being realistic. Although I’d like wager that I could learn most root-languages if I put my mind to it.
Stuff that’s So Unrealistic even Unicorns Agree.
- Become President of Somewhere. (through some form of coup. Because no one would realistically vote for me. I don’t think).
- Instigate World Peace.
- End World Hunger.
And no, I did not include these so someone could tell me how that if ANYONE could be President of Somewhere, I could etc.
Anyway, my aims and life ambitions are akin Human Flight. No one believed it to be possible. I mean, humans, in the air, like birds? Absurd. But, it happened (albeit not in the traditional sense of flapping our non-existent wings). And, me being Yusra and competitive and ambitious and all that jazz, would like to think I’d be able to fly. In my own way.
Monosyllabic.
I wrote this a while back (when I should have been studying history), and was reading it today. I thought of it as too good to not post up for the greater world to see. I have sporadic moments of greatness that I enjoy sharing.
Monosyllabic
He sat with his head in his hands, thinking. It was certainly not the orthodox manner for thinking; his current position would mislead people into thinking that he was upset. He chuckled as the thought passed through the train station of his mind; upset, him? Never. He was about as liable to be upset as a chicken was to be the punch line of a joke. By which we mean, very.
Yet, that summery day, he was not upset. He was simply annoyed. Annoyed that life was so complicated. You could not do what you wanted, for fear of offending people. You could not work in your dream vocation because you needed a roof over your head and food on the table. Always. The priorities of life were not the way you wanted them. You would love to go into the jungle, alone. Travel the world on a plank of wood. But, could you? Of course. You’d only need a bit of money. Easy, right?
Wrong.
Money wasn’t that easy to come by. You’d have to raise the funds. Make people pay for you.
He eyebrows creased, suddenly, as he sat upright. A thought had hit him. Nothing was stopping him from travelling the globe on a plank of wood. He didn’t need money if he simply ‘fished’ for food. He didn’t need money for anything else. Suddenly, life didn’t seem so bad.
But that was before he remembered International Laws. In the interest of the people. That was before he remembered the ‘Rights to Water’. So, he’d need a Passport… simple.
Not so simple. He’d need Visas. For which he’d need money. He’d need all sorts of things. Vaccinations and God-knows-what else.
He swore into the emptiness that surrounded him. A monosyllabic word. The only thing that seemed easy was to swear, it wasn’t a complaint, merely a statement of utter anger. Easy enough. It was easier to swear away the world’s problems than to solve them.
Easier to swear yourself into unemployment than to keep a job.
Easier to do anything, swearing. It induced fear. Fear was what ruled them. Above all else.
The world he lived in promised him Freedom of Speech, The ‘Basic Human Rights’ Well, he wasn’t getting them all; was he? And they knew it. So, they did the best they could to keep people from expressing themselves. They induced fear. They fabricated an enemy of the people. They enhanced the enemy. Upgraded it over time.
Best way to keep the people happy? Give them something to hate that is not you, that is out of your control. Make them forget about their worries.
His mind swivelled into history, the early 20th Century. Germany and World War One. Why did they colonise? Why did they want a war? Simple.
A policy called Primat Der Innenpolitik. Policy of the Domestic Politics. The transliteration didn’t do it justice. But what it meant was keep the people patriotic, nationalistic so that they became apathetic to their own, pathetic lives.
They did it now.
Why could they just not leave them be? A democracy was supposed to be what the people wanted. If the people were distracted, how would they know? They didn’t have proper ‘democracies’ in the world, they had created apathies instead. They started off democratic, but became more apathetic. More police-like than anyone would like to admit.
He let out a long, drawn out sigh. Life was not simple. He wished it was. He really did.
But, what if it were? Easy, simple. Everyone got what they wanted? He laughed, a loud, maniacal laugh. Then, he’d be bored and kill himself.
Not that a difficult life prevented the latter. That was his thought as he looked up into the greying sky, his last thought, his last sight before he pulled the trigger and died with a jolt to the head.
Remember to Feed Yourself.
I pride myself in having a pretty good memory. I mean, I can remember most things; whether I need to or not. I have yet to discover exactly what it is that I remember best; but I do remember. And I enjoy it.
I spent the majority of my last year at school memorising birthdays because I wanted to. Not because I had to. It’s fun. If I want, I could rattle off birthdays of people I barely say ‘hi’ to. People who’s faces I’ve forgotten (no, I lie, I remember what they look like). Birthdays aside, I remember other things. Supposedly insignificant. Stuff no one else ever remembers.
For some reason, if I look at something in everyday-life, I quite-so-nearly laugh. Why? Because it reminds me of something stupid I said 7/8 years ago. Always. There’s nothing I can look at and not remember some story to go with it. Some story no one else will ever remember. I remember all the embarrassing things I’ve said. So much so that I’m too embarrassed to even repeat them. Sometimes, I start reading a book I think I’ve never read; but I remember more than half of it. I think this is why I think all my stories are just bad copies.
Sometimes, when my mind feels like it, I can recall an entire day. Complete with conversations and facial exchanges. It’s funny. (It reminds me of a time I caught a teacher [one I did not like at all] out because of what he said the day before.)
That’s why when I’m asked ‘what did you do today?’ I can never say, “nothing”; because, well, a lot happened.
For instance, today, I woke up before my alarm but I didn’t feel like getting up. Especially since I wasn’t to go in to uni until 11 and my bed was comfortable. So, it wasn’t until around 8:54 that I finally forced myself out of bed (a full 24 minutes after my alarm). After changing and all, I went off to breakfast. Where I nearly considered a hot breakfast, since I had the time. But, I figured that I couldn’t be bothered. Breakfast was eerily full today. Then, I came back into my room and existed until I had to get the bus. I was walking casually up to the bus-stop as it wasn’t a lecture I was going to. I saw the bus there, and because of the bus-seeing syndrome, I sped up and was the last person let on. Until uni. I actually enjoyed being right at the front, and seeing the road under me. I distinctly remember being awed by the fact that I was flying above the road. I mean, that’s what if felt like. I walked happily up to my building, on the way finding out that my lab-partner was going to be late. It didn’t fluster me as I entered the computer lab. Where I began finishing my lab-prep. (And then my lab-partner came, we finished, after wasting 2 sheets of paper because it wouldn’t print). Then we went to our first lecture, at 12:45. Everyone was eating in the lecture. It was exceedingly boring because the lecturer has that sleep-inducing sort of voice. And it didn’t help that he’d dimmed the lights. After the lecture, we went to lab. Which was exceedingly frustrating as our clock wasn’t working (not the one that tells the time, y’know). Finally, we could do the experiments. Forward to the end of the lab (now nearing 5pm), and the professor/demonstrator/marker told us we had 5 minutes left. I was busy wiring the last multiplexer-bistable thing. And it was so much fun. You know, the whole trying to get wires into the right pins and then figuring out which of the 10s of wires was actually connected incorrectly. And you know what’s best? I did it! I had managed to get the little lights working! 😀 The marker was impressed. And then we went to our last lecture of the day. With little-head man (or man-who-thinks-he’s-funny-but-is-not-really). I wasn’t as bored as I thought I would be. That might be because I got in early, I was in the middle and ended up sitting next to people I don’t necessarily talk to. Although that makes no sense. Anyway, the lecture finished at 5 to six. I walked very quickly (because I was too tired to run); to the interchange. There was a MASSIVE crowd near the bus-entrance. I went round the crowd, and somehow managed to get on the bus. Cause I’m cool like that. I got off the bus and was walking towards my hall, when I was hit by the most amazing story-idea ever. Something to do with superstitions… Then, I finally got back to my room. My solitary flatmate heard me come back and we went to dinner. We had Chinese cause it’s the Chinese New Year. That was nice. And then, I came back to my room, did stuff and am now writing this.
See, loads happened.
While I remember all sorts of things, things that will never aid me in real life. But what I fail to remember on most days is lunch. Well, during the exams anyway. And when I have a lot of work to do. I forget to make myself a sandwich. So, because it’s highly unhealthy not to eat anything especially since I do actually get hungry, I put the following on my desktop:
Such is Life.
