Either I had nothing to say or I forgot the important thing I wanted to share. Or maybe I just forgot that I had nothing to say. But whatever the case may be I start this blog with a blank mind.
The assignments are done, the tests are soon over and the exams are soon here. Like the NBA the playoffs have begun. Exams are like the Playoffs. What you do in the regular season, i.e. the coursework, doesn't really matter once you sit in the exam room. Like my dad said, "You go in with an F. It's your choice to come out with an A" There are some teams which are Playoff teams (hence why I dislike the Lakers). Take them in the regular season and anyone can beat them but when the Playoffs come they are monsters. Suddenly the champion decides to come home and the 4-0 regular season sweep is thrown in the dust bin.
Then there are Regular Season teams (hence why I dislike Lebron). They are the monsters, the bullies of the league. They win all their regular season games and come into the playoffs with great expectancy but when the rubber hits the road the crap hits the fan. Somehow, the 4-0 regular season sweep knocks them off their feet and they're done for.
Then there are the teams that are just champions - like the '96 Bulls - winning 60+ (out of 82) regular season games and then taking home the championship.
Obviously you didn't open this post to learn about basketball - even though there's nothing wrong with that. All I'm saying is that exams are different from mid-terms. An exam takes a different breed of human. It's not enough to simply know the work but to know it in time and focus your thoughts to get the coveted A. And what's funny is that lecturers know about exam pressure yet exams are still harder.
Like the playoffs, you don't just breeze through exams, you actually have to work harder. That's one of the things I learnt this week. The other thing was that tricking a smart person is not as easy as tricking a dumb person. The problem with tricking a smart person is that you can't know for sure if they know you're trying to trick them. I tried it with my brother.
In our last weekend as single men I called him and asked "What are you doing tonight? Wanna catch a game or something?" and he consented. We went by our grandma for her easter bonnet parade and then left when the game started. We're talking and driving and then I pulled in lucky horseshoe. Every sports fan knows that you don't games at the Lucky Horseshoe. But while we were waiting his phone kept ringing and he kept talking to people and I'm thinking "Did he find out? Is he just tricking me?" (I wouldn't put it beyond him) but I went on as planned. When we parked he saw his friend's car so when we got out he said "wunna trick me man". So I made it to the car park. (And what was worse was that when we were walking in another friend was driving in.
So my advice is that when you have a smart chick (respectively dude) it's better to tell the truth all the time because you really shouldn't put it past them to trick you.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
About My Busyness
The music of ABBA lulls in the background as the wind howls past the now closed door. It used to be quiet, but then again it used to be empty. Ok make that ABBA songs are being screeched through my eardrums as clearly these guys cannot sing. It used to be quiet, but then again it used to be empty.
My sisters came home from a weekend camp and still I didn't get much work done. It seems as though I need distraction to hold me in order to do work. As usual, Facebook is up, and I'm signed into MSN, Gmail and Skype while watching the highlights of the NBA game. My desk is cluttered with all the work from all the courses that I'm doing. It's funny how we say "peace in the midst of the storm". I had a pretty eventful week and my desk is a microcosmic reflection thereof. There weren't any big events like a camp; just little things to keep my mind occupied.
This week I thought that my parents had stopped loving me. I had to catch the shuttle twice this week and if you want to know anything else about me, I hate catching the bus - it feels like a punishment. I don't mind smelly people (I'm a fan of rustic and natural), loud music or fights; I just dislike the intrusive discomfort of driving in a vehicle that sounds like it's about to fall apart and having to endure it for at least 45 min. So Monday morning I left home at 8am for my 9 am class thinking that I would drop off my brother and ease to school. But that didn't happen. Instead I got dumped off at the health store and met 3 other people. As I waited, with no music or conversation, holding a bag that was slowly becoming too heavy, the crowd trickled in to the health store in their ones. Soon a bus load of students were waiting. As the bus turned, we all rushed to the stop. (Now I'm a novice at catching the shuttle and in my mind I let people pass once they were infront of me. Unaware of the dangers of manners, I found myself staring into the behind of the last person trying to squeeze into the already packed shuttle.) That was 9am. Another shuttle came at around 9:30 and I got on only to be told to get off but unlike Rosa Parks I got off but I turned and sat back in my seat. I finally managed to get to school at 9:50...punishment.
By the time Thursday came I was quite wound up and running around trying to finish all the stuff due this week. I woke up at 5am on Thursday to do my favourite past time - dishes. I got half way through them before the dishwashing liquid ran out (Amen!) so I prepared breakfast and watched Wednesday's NBA highlights. At about 8 my brother came downstairs, dressed and ready to go so I watched the end of the hightlights, jumped out the chair, threw everything in the sink and ran into the shower. Thirty seconds later, I brushed my teeth while packing my bag and dressing. I ran outside to the car and looked around wondering where my brother was. After searching for a little while I realised that he caught the bus (clearly it's not a punishment for him).
I stayed up all night trying to finish some assignments until I finally decided that it was better I go to sleep than be groggy for my interview on Friday. I had to catch the shuttle again - the horror - but I managed to get there in time to use the bathroom (changing in a bus was never one of my fancies but if I'm a billionaire I can tell the kids that it's an essential part of being successful). I came into the interview quite empty handed because my notes were left along with the other things I ended up leaving on my bed so I prayed that my memory would serve me well. It is said that you can't walk before you crawl but when I walked into the room I ran straight into a wall. It wasn't the best interview of the day; when I came out I thought it was excellent but upon contemplation I realised that I could have done better if I wasn't in such a hurry. I've learnt nearly all of the ways not to do an interview - from the dress, to the focus to the whole intent of the interview. I guess people are not that interested in how smart we are but rather who we are.
The house is not quiet again, much like I hoped it would be on Saturday but instead of doing work I went into town that day to buy wedding gear. I hate shopping period. There never seems to be anything that I like which can fit me and/or is in my price range. I try to do the conventional thing (straight jeans and fitted, in a white t-shirt) but that's so boring (I did it). I don't know why I thought I was going to be successful but I went anyway. We got in Cave Shepherd and I asked for a pants. When I tried it on I said "that's the one". The light shone brighter, my Converse looked better and all the happy music began playing. But my mother was convinced that I should but one with pleats - it has more volume - so I tried it on. When I did the cars crashed, the glass shattered and a few bombs exploded, starting small fires and mayhem. I hated it; it looked like parachute pants but she loved it. Thankfully my dad was on my side so we outnumbered her and my sexiness was saved! Unfortunately, that style isn't sold in monopod so after spending an arm and a leg on it, I'd have to pay a tailor to fix it. We eventually spent 4 hours to no avail, trying on about 10 different pants in 3 different stores, but none could fit me and well, no other lights came on. I guess I'll go to the wedding in my boxers. No one will notice when I'm at the table.
The rain is falling and I just remembered what work I have to do. I'll probably go and read something academic or learn a theorem. Until next time we meet. Don't forget to breathe and drink water. Out here is quite hot and dry and hectic. Adieu.
My sisters came home from a weekend camp and still I didn't get much work done. It seems as though I need distraction to hold me in order to do work. As usual, Facebook is up, and I'm signed into MSN, Gmail and Skype while watching the highlights of the NBA game. My desk is cluttered with all the work from all the courses that I'm doing. It's funny how we say "peace in the midst of the storm". I had a pretty eventful week and my desk is a microcosmic reflection thereof. There weren't any big events like a camp; just little things to keep my mind occupied.
This week I thought that my parents had stopped loving me. I had to catch the shuttle twice this week and if you want to know anything else about me, I hate catching the bus - it feels like a punishment. I don't mind smelly people (I'm a fan of rustic and natural), loud music or fights; I just dislike the intrusive discomfort of driving in a vehicle that sounds like it's about to fall apart and having to endure it for at least 45 min. So Monday morning I left home at 8am for my 9 am class thinking that I would drop off my brother and ease to school. But that didn't happen. Instead I got dumped off at the health store and met 3 other people. As I waited, with no music or conversation, holding a bag that was slowly becoming too heavy, the crowd trickled in to the health store in their ones. Soon a bus load of students were waiting. As the bus turned, we all rushed to the stop. (Now I'm a novice at catching the shuttle and in my mind I let people pass once they were infront of me. Unaware of the dangers of manners, I found myself staring into the behind of the last person trying to squeeze into the already packed shuttle.) That was 9am. Another shuttle came at around 9:30 and I got on only to be told to get off but unlike Rosa Parks I got off but I turned and sat back in my seat. I finally managed to get to school at 9:50...punishment.
By the time Thursday came I was quite wound up and running around trying to finish all the stuff due this week. I woke up at 5am on Thursday to do my favourite past time - dishes. I got half way through them before the dishwashing liquid ran out (Amen!) so I prepared breakfast and watched Wednesday's NBA highlights. At about 8 my brother came downstairs, dressed and ready to go so I watched the end of the hightlights, jumped out the chair, threw everything in the sink and ran into the shower. Thirty seconds later, I brushed my teeth while packing my bag and dressing. I ran outside to the car and looked around wondering where my brother was. After searching for a little while I realised that he caught the bus (clearly it's not a punishment for him).
I stayed up all night trying to finish some assignments until I finally decided that it was better I go to sleep than be groggy for my interview on Friday. I had to catch the shuttle again - the horror - but I managed to get there in time to use the bathroom (changing in a bus was never one of my fancies but if I'm a billionaire I can tell the kids that it's an essential part of being successful). I came into the interview quite empty handed because my notes were left along with the other things I ended up leaving on my bed so I prayed that my memory would serve me well. It is said that you can't walk before you crawl but when I walked into the room I ran straight into a wall. It wasn't the best interview of the day; when I came out I thought it was excellent but upon contemplation I realised that I could have done better if I wasn't in such a hurry. I've learnt nearly all of the ways not to do an interview - from the dress, to the focus to the whole intent of the interview. I guess people are not that interested in how smart we are but rather who we are.
The house is not quiet again, much like I hoped it would be on Saturday but instead of doing work I went into town that day to buy wedding gear. I hate shopping period. There never seems to be anything that I like which can fit me and/or is in my price range. I try to do the conventional thing (straight jeans and fitted, in a white t-shirt) but that's so boring (I did it). I don't know why I thought I was going to be successful but I went anyway. We got in Cave Shepherd and I asked for a pants. When I tried it on I said "that's the one". The light shone brighter, my Converse looked better and all the happy music began playing. But my mother was convinced that I should but one with pleats - it has more volume - so I tried it on. When I did the cars crashed, the glass shattered and a few bombs exploded, starting small fires and mayhem. I hated it; it looked like parachute pants but she loved it. Thankfully my dad was on my side so we outnumbered her and my sexiness was saved! Unfortunately, that style isn't sold in monopod so after spending an arm and a leg on it, I'd have to pay a tailor to fix it. We eventually spent 4 hours to no avail, trying on about 10 different pants in 3 different stores, but none could fit me and well, no other lights came on. I guess I'll go to the wedding in my boxers. No one will notice when I'm at the table.
The rain is falling and I just remembered what work I have to do. I'll probably go and read something academic or learn a theorem. Until next time we meet. Don't forget to breathe and drink water. Out here is quite hot and dry and hectic. Adieu.
Sunday, April 03, 2011
College
Normal weeks are somewhat becoming of my school life. Of course, my normal may not be your normal (afterall, I am normal, right?) I usually coin this period with a familiar NCAA phrase - March Madness. And like basketball, the March madness is over so let the April showers come!
Like I said, I had a normal week and there is now a balance in my universe. Last weekend was our university's carnival. It was awesome from what I heard and saw - a lot of people were just going through the motions trying to recover from it. I was recovering too but from a concert that was insane! One of our great keyboardists is getting treatment for cancer and the concert brought out the best of the musicians in Barbados, past and present. You're in our prayers Big Steve.
So as we, my friends and I, were going to the concert - this is in the evening after carnival - I got a call from my mother. We had exhanged vehicles at Sheraton - my friends and I, with my parents. I looked back and asked "Did anyone leave something in the van?" No one answered but my mom seemed to be certain that someone left something. We thought maybe one of the girls left something so they started digging in their bags (of course if I left anything it wouldn't matter unless it's money - or deodorant lol). We were certain that no one left anything but when my mom said it was "very personal" we began to stare at each other with nervousness and discomfort. What could be so very personal, and who could have left it there?
Stay tuned for the continuance of this epic saga (of course, if I feel like)....
Like I said, I had a normal week and there is now a balance in my universe. Last weekend was our university's carnival. It was awesome from what I heard and saw - a lot of people were just going through the motions trying to recover from it. I was recovering too but from a concert that was insane! One of our great keyboardists is getting treatment for cancer and the concert brought out the best of the musicians in Barbados, past and present. You're in our prayers Big Steve.
So as we, my friends and I, were going to the concert - this is in the evening after carnival - I got a call from my mother. We had exhanged vehicles at Sheraton - my friends and I, with my parents. I looked back and asked "Did anyone leave something in the van?" No one answered but my mom seemed to be certain that someone left something. We thought maybe one of the girls left something so they started digging in their bags (of course if I left anything it wouldn't matter unless it's money - or deodorant lol). We were certain that no one left anything but when my mom said it was "very personal" we began to stare at each other with nervousness and discomfort. What could be so very personal, and who could have left it there?
Stay tuned for the continuance of this epic saga (of course, if I feel like)....
The Saga Continues
As I was saying, we wondered what could be so personal. One of the girls took the phone and after a few moments shouted, "Ooooo! That's definately NOT me!" We became even more uncomfortable, scared even. What could soo very personal?!?!
When the call was over, we threw our eyes on my friend. "What was it?" we asked desperately. She just laughed. Then she said "It's a brasier." The girls were relieved because it was definately not theirs. And I was partly relieved since I wasn't mine either, but I still wondered whose it was, especially since my mother didn't recognize it. That verse came to mind, "Be sure your sins will find you out" (Numbers 32:23) and I sank into my chair as thoughts raced through my Sherlock Holmes' head.
But my mom called back and said "Don't worry, it's solved." The answer was indeed elementary Watson.
When the call was over, we threw our eyes on my friend. "What was it?" we asked desperately. She just laughed. Then she said "It's a brasier." The girls were relieved because it was definately not theirs. And I was partly relieved since I wasn't mine either, but I still wondered whose it was, especially since my mother didn't recognize it. That verse came to mind, "Be sure your sins will find you out" (Numbers 32:23) and I sank into my chair as thoughts raced through my Sherlock Holmes' head.
But my mom called back and said "Don't worry, it's solved." The answer was indeed elementary Watson.
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