Slacking Breaks

I think one of the elements of allowing myself to relax is the realisation of exactly how exhausted and tired I am. I don’t think I ever properly realise my own exhaustion during my time at university. I don’t have time for such frivolities, I have more pressing concerns to attend to, namely studying and doing important things for my own education that cannot be put off for longer than absolutely necessary. And I justify it to myself by saying that I am at university to study and study I must do without slacking. Everything I do is in a bid to not slack and call to question the use and legitimacy of being at university. I am there with a purpose to learn and I shall work myself and apply myself to that process, and when I fail in that purpose, like I have done a lot this semester, it takes a toll on me because I cannot bear the thought of being like that.

But I have been really sleepy the whole day today, my head is aching right now as I type and I want nothing more than to collapse on my bed and sleep until the end of eternity. I am also worried because half the semester has gone by so fast and in another half, I shall have my finals and I am absolutely not confident about it at all. Part of it is probably my own insecurities coming into play about my own estimate of my intelligence (which is not very high, to be honest, because I have allowed myself no reason to believe otherwise). But that being said, I think this break has allowed me a time when I could properly take time out for myself, to be with people who love me and who I love back. Of course, I also miss university and the people there with a strong passion, but I am going back there and I also most definitely needed and wanted this. This breath of home and grandparents, of one of the very few things that have been quite stable so far in my life. Surely the quest for this was worth the general slacking I have been doing this break?

And that’s my memory for the day.

Back to Square One?

I think the biggest challenge for me with regards to this blog right now, is to find the energy and motivation to write here. But that is stupid because I have made myself write through my most difficult times and I am not going to let a few days of circumstances out of my control, take away my drive to keep this blog going and to write every day. Of course, my classes have not even started yet but I have got through one semester before this and I shall try my level best to do that again. But I feel like I am back to square one, like I used to feel on the first few weeks of starting this blog. I was apprehensive if this blog would continue and if I would be able to write every day. But Yashasvi surprised me, she went through hell but she still remembered the blog and for me, that is the most important thing to reassure myself with. Just the fact that I am writing this post right now is something I think I deserve to be proud of.

I have been on campus for a whole of two days now and it has been a good few days. Slightly weird a few times, but mostly nice. My luggage still hasn’t arrived, I called the airport today morning and they had said that it had been dispatched and should reach me “soon.” When that soon is, only they can tell me. But anyway, I managed to bring the thousand things I had from inside my locker and it proved to be a treasure trove. I have clothes and toiletries, stuff that I need to sustain myself for the next few days. I am grateful to seventeen-year-old Yashasvi for the presence of mind she displayed in keeping behind these things because they shall sustain me for a while at least.

Yesterday, I met a girl who had come to my university from rural Tamil Nadu. Her story was remarkable, the amount of trouble and problems she faced and still the bravery and grit she displayed in just being there at university, was inspirational. She had made it past too many difficulties, amidst much opposition from her family and I told her that I would be very willing to help her write her story in English, or if she chose to write in Tamil, to edit and translate her work for her, to help her submit it to wherever she saw fit. I think her story is really worth telling, especially to the people here at university because I don’t think people truly realise how privileged they are to be sitting here. I think it would be really wonderful for her story to be told and heard and read because it is a very important story, a very hard-hitting one at that.

Aside from that, I have been quite disoriented because of the number of unfamiliar faces on campus. It is magnified by the fact that most of the second-years are not on campus, which means I don’t have quite a few friends on campus yet and that feels weird. I cannot imagine an Ashoka without my friends and yet here I am, without them. I think my experience these last few days has left me craving a bit of alone time for myself, without anyone around me, which has made me withdraw a bit from my friends. It is truly not their fault, just that I have too many worries at the moment and I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with people before my worries are solved. Right now priorities are luggage arrival, email complaint, setting up hostel room, cleaning the room, and then figuring out work for when the academic session starts next week.

This semester looks like it is going to be a tough ride and I am scared of the infinite possibilities. I am scared of academics, I am scared of handling my time, I am just scared. And I know me, I know that I hate being afraid, I try my best not to be afraid. Fear makes you dependent, it makes you fall back on others who shall reassure you and have to hold you up like crutches. Some amount of fear may be necessary, but fear as a concept is something I endeavour not to have, not for these kinds of things. But it is difficult–when you are alone, but you also want to be alone, when you sit in your room, your door locked, to stop others from coming in but you also low-key want others to walk inside and pull you out of bed. It is a very difficult place to be in and I don’t want that to be my semester. This semester, I have quite a few jobs to get done and I am going to ensure that I learn to prioritise and make sure I do what needs to be done to the best of my ability. I can do this, right?

And that’s my memory for the day.

Nonsense Writing and the Past

I realised today that I loved making up nonsense poetry, a very specific kind of poetry that is an absolute cracker to write and is highly entertaining to read. It was in class today, when we were all tasked with writing our own poetry in small groups of four. We had to first make up a common database of words, then exchange them and then use all of those words in the poem. But my favourite part of those words/phrases was the portmanteau words–words that do not exist, made up by combing two already existing words. It would be something like puggle (pug + beagle), teaffee (tea + coffee), rice-a-roni (rice and macaroni), and words like that. For me, I found making up those words really fun because it got my creative juices flowing. It made me think even when I was not particularly inspired. Nonsense poetry need not seduce reason, so I could take complete liberty with my words to rhyme them.

I remember a conversation that sparked quite a few months back, between myself and myself, about this idea of restrictions in literature. I was thinking about it, arguing with myself that restrictions can also foster creativity, sometimes more than freedom itself. By giving us a structure to fill words in, it helps someone start their way into that world. When we wrote our nonsense verse, we had the freedom to use whatever words we like, but we had to consciously set ourselves a rhyme scheme for otherwise, we would have never gotten anywhere. We would have sat and wondered on what to start the first line with and we may have never gotten anywhere. I am not calling for restrictions, sometimes having that freedom is truly marvellous and really helps you. But my idea that having restrictions helps one start was just bolstered by today’s happenings.

I am sometimes hit by this desire to write, this desire to be able to write at will, at any time of the day. I am not a very good writer, and while I like to think that my time writing this blog has helped me improve it, my grades and my comments from my professors have made me feel like somehow, I have ruined myself. My writing, if anything, seems to have dropped to lows that it hasn’t hit before. I was struck with periods of blocks, much more and more frequent than any I have encountered before. Writing blocks are curious things, it feels like someone tampered with my writing, left me coughing in their wake, with nothing to my name but a few tales of the seemingly amazing tales of the past (or maybe the lack of a past too)

Most of the time, when I find myself thinking about the past, and what has taken part in that time, I find myself unwittingly become victims of romanticising the past and sometimes ‘making up’ beauty and memories. It is by no means a favourable or appreciated place to be, but I guess that is the thing with a lot of things in life. I am extremely sleepy at the moment, a consequence of my poor sleeping habits this whole week. I have slept soundly while writing many parts of this post. This means that there could be places where my words won’t flow. But as I keep on reminding myself from time to time, these kinds of things happen all the time. It is okay to not be able to give your 100%, and as much as it hurts me and makes me scold myself for my slacking, I need to allow myself to write nonsense from time to time. After all, I do like it, don’t I?

And that’s my memory for the day.

Sanity and Bravery Before Crashing

There are many things that I am capable of doing, albeit even if in a bad way. Sleeping is one of those things for me. I can sleep anywhere, any time. It is truly a blessing.But the whole thing is quite fun to do. I have papers due for tomorrow, and I managed to completely waste today and not get any of my readings done. But I will hold today as a cheat day and be better at managing my work tomorrow.

The coming week is likely the last week of classes. Then we will only have paper submissions and other work to do. I am terrified of that week because it is going to get hectic, beyond what I feel I am capable of handling at the moment. I haven’t broken down yet, but I think it is possible I might crumble a bit under pressure. But I am mentally prepared to face that, I am not going to go down without a fight. Moreover, I keep telling myself that after that week, I will get the chance to go back home. Meet my parents, my brother, everyone. It is an exciting prospect. Especially because I have my summer semester to do in King’s and I cannot wait for everything to start happening.

I don’t recall struggling as much as I am doing right now to write a blog post. I had slept off and I woke up just now to realise that this was pending. I could have let it be and written one in the morning. But that would be going against my principles. I have promised myself to write every day. If Ilett myself slack once, I will allow myself to slack more times. And I don’t want to slack, not with this. I will pull through this year, won’t I?

And that’s my memory for the day.

Cheat Weeks and Applications

I have had a cheat week so far. I slacked, didn’t get my work completed on time. Basically, I told myself that I will start anew this weekend. How much we promise ourselves at times! I have readings to do, assignments to submit and applications to fill and write. But I am giving myself the permission to cheat this week, to be a little slack so that I realise how stupid it is and won’t attempt it again. Again, it reminded me of myself around January last year. College applications were being done, exams were going on in school in preparation for board exams. There were classes, exams, studies and applications to fill out and a very tired me.

One crucial difference though was the presence of a strong support system in the form of my family. Here, my family is not very accessible to me. I cannot just walk into my parents’ room and curl up next to my mom when I am feeling unmotivated. I crave that physical comfort that I was provided in my house, the food I was provided and the soothing words. I was still a child, I still am and that part of me feels lost, alone and at times, painfully sad.

It does not do well to dwell on things like that. I can only look back at those times with nostalgia and tears in my eyes, as I reminisce and laugh about what a child I was. I worried so much about not getting selected into any college. I worried and worried about each and every application, each and every exam, each and everything that I had to get done. It did get done in the end and I was left very relieved but I can only hope that it happens even now.

The period before my board exams can only be described as fleeting. The time moved very quickly as I spent my time shuffling between studies, applying to the colleges and catching sleep and complaining about writing exam after exam, record after record and submitting paper after paper. But it all was worth it in the end, when after the last exam I felt the triumph of Yashasvi over everything else. I could not wait to get out of the class, to walk out with my last question paper in hand, to formally bid goodbye to what I felt was an oppressive system. And I did, and the jubilation I felt! It was good!

I remember that I started a box of memories, a box where I wrote down anything good that happened. In that box, I have written down the exact days when I received my mails of acceptance from all the universities I applied to. From being afraid of no university accepting me, I went on to have all of them accept me. It was a dream come true in many ways, and my choice was a no-brainer. I had a clear priority in my mind and when Ashoka accepted me, I said yes without a second thought.

Thinking back, I laugh when I remember how afraid I was. I only hope that my fears right now of my application not getting accepted will be a thing of the past, to laugh about and not worry about. I don’t want to be over-confident or complacent. It has cost me a lot in the past. I don’t want to make the same errors again. There is a certain respect I have to pay to the application and to the people who will review it and determine my worth to attend the programme. And I think, sometimes, being afraid does get me to put my best foot forward, does it not?

And that’s my memory for the day.