WARNING: This article is not to be read by the overly sentimental or the faint-hearted. Owing to the disturbing nature of this bracing reality check, parental discretion is advised.
My blissful dream comes to an abrupt end as I am woken up by an inconsiderate alarm-clock. I unwillingly set off to attend some soporific early-morning class only to be put back to sleep by a living sleeping-pill. After two hours of discreet napping, I gladly leave my second bedroom and make way for my rather larger and more interesting third one, where, along with a variety of those living sleeping-pills *shudder*, I have friends and the option to stay awake by leaving before another mind-numbing sleeping-pill arrives to sing me a different boring lullaby.
I am the college student and this is a day of my life.
I arrive at college, curse the concept of such embarrassment of students by making them display their worst photographs so prominently on their identity-cards (without which entry onto the campus is denied) and plod off towards my class. My sullenness immediately vanishes at the sight of that smiling person I so desperately long for … and returns with full force when I see his horrible girlfriend close by. My disposition now even worse than before, I stomp into class only to be angered further by the fact that the first lecture is being taken by everyone’s least favourite lecturer, and bang my books around moodily while my crush cosies up to his girlfriend at the back.
I then endure forty minutes of mixed emotions as I try (1) not to laugh at the lecturer’s hilarious hairstyle, (2) to stay awake despite his monotonous drone and (3) to resist the urge to claw out the eyes of the object of affection of the object of my affection.
Eventually, my least favourite people in the room (that ever-smug math lecturer and my crush’s girlfriend) leave for the day. *Cue the celebrations*
I then accompany my friends to the canteen to avoid the next forty minutes of slightly different sleep induction. These precious minutes pass in a flash (though certain moments shine out clearly: like when my crush and I share a joke and laugh until our stomachs hurt) and we return to class for our favourite lecture— Biology, which, however, is ruined by the news that we will be dissecting cockroaches this evening at practicals. I spend the rest of that lecture torn between awe at the wonders of the human body and disgust at being forced to peek into a cockroach’s instead.
The much-awaited lunch break arrives, and I enjoy myself with my friends until I remember that I have yet to complete my Biology journal for this evening’s practicals and resort to the tedious job. The moment I finish, I hear that familiar, unwelcome sound— the ringing of the bell indicating the end of the lunch hour.
I cram a sandwich into my mouth, doing my best to avoid looking like a starved monkey when I’m in full view of that adorable boy standing an arm’s length away from me, but fail miserably when I leap into the air and pull at my hair at the realisation that I’ve forgotten my lab coat.
My first five minutes in the Biology lab are wasted being ticked off for my forgetfulness by the nasty lab assistant, after which I am sent off to my seat to try to keep that sandwich down as a drugged cockroach is placed in front of me. Disinclined to fail Biology, I begin the repugnant dissection. When I’m done, I glance at my crush across the lab, am delighted when he catches my eye and instantaneously beam at him. In all my ecstasy, I squash my cockroach and have to go through that nauseating dissection again so as to sketch out the insides of that creepy insect.
Finally, the bell rings and I join my friends to leave college for the day. I enjoy myself thoroughly for the next half-hour, as our entire group hangs out at our usual ‘headquarters’ on the footpath outside college, laughing and joking, until we hurriedly disperse at the sight of the mean, I-card obsessed supervisor who holds an old grudge against us for ‘creating an unholy racket’ in the lunch hour.
Disappointed at that hurried and unexpected exodus (though my crush did say a personal goodbye!), I return home to tackle that mounting pile of impending homework before an hour of leisure in front of the T.V.
And, finally, the hectic day draws to a close. I send my crush a quick goodnight message, smile at the instant reply, snap the lights off and shut my eyes to be engulfed in the world of dreams once more …
(NOTE: As this is an unending cycle, go back to beginning and read through all over again when you reach this point for a more realistic account.)
(This is one of my personal favourites. It was also printed in JLT in 2007. I was so thrilled to get paid for doing what I love!)
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