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Fourth Year: Parasols in Campus
With all this in view, it suddenly seems not to matter quite so much that you may (or may not) be a wretch, or that you should probably make more of an effort with your studies. The individual ego diminishes. You let yourself dissolve into a wider realm. What happens to you for the next one year no longer has to be the measure of everything. What does it matter so much what you’re worth or where you’ll end up after campus?
Popeye
Popeye grabbed my shoes with his dry, dark hands. Despite the cold, they radiated heat, like they were weatherproof after decades of use. Like they were defiant to the cold and the leather he touched everyday. As he inspected the soles, I couldn’t help wondering where those hands had been. Thick, stiff, rough. No amount of soap or lotion could restore them. They had been through hell and back.
I have become like them
I did not understand the calmness of cows in the rain; they look like they know something we don’t. I did not understand cats lying quietly beside a hot jiko. Now I understand sunsets, and losing an afternoon to a chapter in a book. I have become like those fascinated by Mother Nature’s stillness, and terrified by her raging possibilities.
Two Years, Seven Lessons
My writing is only as wide as my perception. Exposure pushes me beyond the comfort of my room. It helps me write from and for different places, people, and ideas. Exposure writes to the world with the world in mind. It makes me see the rich and poor differently. It makes me realize that even the so-called ‘common man’ has an uncommon story worth writing.
Don’t bang the door!
I enjoy being in a room where people know I’m present, but can’t quite pin down where. It’s like being Batman, but socially anxious. I don’t know if my social anxiety has peaked off the charts over recent years, but choosing invisibility has saved me from many socially cringe situations. It makes me enjoy the occasion, and most importantly, leave at will.
