"Graveling"...

...curiously enough, is the word that pops up fairly often somewhere in my head. ‘Tis the season for exams. Teez, tireless and whipsmart, feels defeated. Not so chippy. Not so sunny. And everybody else seems to be doing so well. You know how that is. You get by feeling, well… hoping that the scoring will be as unpredictable as it always is, or that I unconsciously wrote something amazingly brilliant and original out of sheer creativity, triggered by the desperate necessity of the situation. Highly unlikely, but you know how that is. And at night, in the ungodly hours of night I would fall asleep and wake, fall asleep and wake, sleeping guiltily, and waking sleepily... an assortment of haphazard books about me unmemorized. And last night when I slept (guiltily), I had the most beautiful dream. Never before. Amazing. And no, it wasn’t sexual. *so there*. I can’t help but wonder whether dreams really mean anything. *sigh*. Woke up, grudgingly, sleepily, with a most unpleasant shock, that ‘tis yet morning again, that the dream was just... a dream, and that the book remained sadly unmemorized.
So I gravelled through the day.
Oh, help.

Still sober, as it were
Abandoning the giddy rush
Of love, in a mood

a week felt like a year
Emerging, old and wise
Uncocooned

Thoughts are clear
Gravity, lying in Gratitude
Emotions subdued.

spoilsport

With a deceptively quiet aura, he calmly reached out, closed his palm around my bubble of a dream, and crushed it. In an eerily absent-minded way.

A day of misfits.

Cancelled badly-craved piano sessions, yet again, for an appointment. Spent the whole morning arranging the meeting. Turned down offer to visit my friend’s new born baby. (dear god my friends are having babies already).

As the day progressed, one by one people cancelled. The visitor’s flight was delayed. The meeting was rescheduled. The day was spent in vain.
So I slept, fretfully. Assignments could not be focused on. People had not done theirs. Nobody seemed concerned. I was impatient.

As I start to leave Mom would hold me back. Get me to eat first. Perhaps a motherly conscience set straight by the fact I do not leave the house unfed. Perhaps a reluctance to have me rush out again so soon. Perhaps just a habit.
She frets, fusses. I am impatient, late. Tense and cranky, I rush out.

I am the earliest to arrive. The rest, 40 minutes late. Not much to do, when the time comes no time to do. At 11pm boyfriend calls, still at work. As I spill my tired beans, his battery went dead.