Like The Books We Studied, and Before Long, Forgotten

 

"Like the ghost of a dear friend dead
Is Time long past"

~ P.B. Shelley

It's been a while I've sat my arse down and finally do something productive *coughs ashamedly*. This ecstasy high I'm riding now is rather conducive to another bout of excessive blathering and meaningless chatter.Why am I soaring happily, joyfully, exultation shining in my eyes, you ask.

Why, dear, I've just finished the last paper of this semester's finals!

This semester had been surprisingly short, and yet infinitely long. I've grown much, and regressed even more. I've broke rules I'd never dared before, broke traditions that used to define the very essence of me, invited changes like rain on dry lands, and most of all, looking back and wondering how, and when, did I ever get to where I am now. Everything in this semester was the perfect balance of opposites; a tenuous balance.

I' don't think I really have the state of mind to blather on about goodbyes and whatnots like I used to last year. I blame the physick's high. I guess I'll get that feeling someday this week, of time past and goodbyes unsaid, but not today.

Today's a day for celebration!

And, if there's a rational part of me left, reflection.

What to celebrate, some may ask. Why, the most obvious one is the papers finished and the semester gone! God knows how many hours we pored over the books, battling vainly against the temptations of evil *coughs tetris cough* and merciless time. Tests followed tests, like starved dogs after juicy tenderloins, and what else could we do but clinging on to the eleventh hour asking it not to leave us? The semester might be short and scattered with holidays, but when it comes to the time period between tests... Let's just say I'd rather have a longer semester.

Then the finals. The comforts of home far out of reach, it's hot and stuffy and ice-cold showers (if you call that trickle a 'shower') that accompanied me through the study-week-from-hell. But at least I managed to do a little of studying, and well. I can't say it paid off, 'cause I don't think it did, what with my tenuous thread of resistance against temptations. I did read one hell of a fanfiction during that time though. *Cackles*

So when the final paper ends, it's rather easy to understand why I, like the mainstream college society, would like to get a little wild, rebel against the bars that'd caged me in for so long, and do a little celebrating of my own.

But there are other reasons to celebrate, if you look closer.

Friends that got even closer, new acquaintances that I've come to know, family members that got even more precious; new places to explore, old places to reminisce; times of laughter and frustration and all those small little moments I'll soon forget. Moments where a single comment set off a chain reaction of laughter and embarrassment, a sudden change in topic tests' schedule that gave us a first-hand experience of CVD, lectures that gurgled with lameness.

All those things to celebrate, I doubt I can finish celebrating in one semester break. *grins*

I'll admit I've grown a little more... *aherm* for lack of a better word, wild. I blame both Hannah Chen and those fanfictions with their "innocent" innuendos. But if youth doesn't get you crazy, what does? And if you don't get crazy and wild when you're young, when else? I don't want to be dancing in a pub with creaky bones and arthritis wearing my polka dot granny miniskirt. Not that I won't be as wild as I am now when I hit sixty. *Winks*

I've also got a little bit bolder, I hope. I used to admire those who did what they want however they want it. Within reason, of course. Those that speak their minds and show their hearts, fearing no judgement from others. I've tried to emulate them, but I can't say it's been a success. I'm incredibly vain, and I know that. *Sheepish grin* But I guess I'm still learning. Rome wasn't built in one day, though that's probably because there's weren't any ultra-cool machines back then. However, I'm still hanging on to that small hope that I'm progressing. However small that progress is. Maybe if you use a microscope.

And of course, my introductory phrase of a poem. "Like the ghost of a dear friend dead, is Time, long past." It's been a year. A year since everything was overturned, and my daily routine of school-tuition-comfy-bed-hot-showers collapsed. A new routine had to be constructed again, and like a bricklayer, I had to lay it down one brick at a time, waiting for it to harden, to stabilize, to familiarize. Still, I've only settled down and the end is near. One more year, and everything will be over all over again, a cycle with no end. *sighs* Ah, we'll deal with that when that comes knocking me flat.

*glance at watch* Oh shyte. I need to hurry up. Bus awaits my arrival, Malacca awaits my homecoming. *swoons*

I guess my high's coming down pretty fast after all that mushy spew. I hope your lunch didn't make a reappearance. Though if it did, I'm flattered. Be sure to tell me though. It's past time I stop and bid adieu, though with utmost regret, I must say I will be back with another story to tell, another time. Let's cross our fingers that the next story will hold a little more twists and interesting events, shall we?

Enjoy your holidays, for those who are enjoying it now, and all the best waiting for the holidays, for those still awaiting. *Smiles*

And here's to Time long past, a walk to be remembered, a journey to be recorded, a dream to never be forgotten.

"Like the ghost of a dear friend dead

Is Time long past.

A tone which is now forever fled,

A hope which is now forever past,

A love so sweet it could not last,

Was Time long past.

There were sweet dreams in the night

Of Time long past:

And, was it sadness or delight,

Each day a shadow onward cast

Which made us wish it yet might last-

That Time long past.

There is regret, almost remorse,

For Time long past.

'Tis like a child's beloved corse

A father watches, till at last

Beauty is like remembrance, cast

From Time long past."

by Percy Bysshe Shelley