Nothing in Particular

Ever since joining University (it's college, but there is a feel good factor about University), the number of posts on my blog has gone down alarmingly. It was always rather low, but it is now almost unacceptable.

Rather counter-intuitively, this stems not from a stagnation of ideas but from an excess of thoughts, opinions and ideas that I wish to write about and express that gets mixed up in my head until it's an unrecognisable concoction of neuronal signals that fire of rather than the clarity of my previous posts that were single-minded in their intent of expression. It is not being lost for words, it is being lost in words and not knowing which to pick out.

Hostel life is unnervingly two-paced, the absolute rush and energy of the weekdays so suddenly followed by uncontrollable and highly contagious lethargy in the air. Even work comes in waves, alternating between having nothing to do and carrying the world on your shoulders. Whether this alternation is by design or the consequence of procrastination is up for debate.

Most disconcerting of all features of hostel life though, is the sheer unpredictability. At home, all plans were put into action. If the next weekend was meant to simply goof off, I would. And if it was meant for cramming and intense working out (working out means math for us nerd-folk), cramming and working out would happen. Despite setting equally clear agendas, the translation of similar plans to action simply does not happen in a hostel. A day meant to simply sleep off the extra boredom from the seemingly deliberate line-up of consecutive boring lectures can suddenly turn into one of the most productive evenings of writing and studying. The pitch simply cannot be gauged, something like the 22-yard patch at the Feroz Shah Kotla.

As is the case right now! What I thought would be an extra hour of precious sleep has turned out to be half an hour of useless surfing and now followed by half an hour of typing this post out with frequent, nervous glances at the clock. Class starts in 9 minutes from now and if you combine 2 minutes for dressing up (yes, just two) and the 9 minute walk from hostel to class-room, I am running 2 minutes late. Or 8 minutes early for being "late beyond reason".

So life goes on, constrained in unbelievable freedom which tells you every moment how weak you really are.

7 minutes, now I simply have to go.

Posting without proof-reading.
Sorry reader.
If you exist.
Adios