I almost did not write this entry. The inspiration for this piece started out simply enough: a friend sharing her experience with being the best she could be, and how that quite nearly drove her crazy. The quest to achieve a goal never stopped. It simply became an obsession with wanting to do better, because […]Read more "Other Perfections"
In about five hours, I am about to graduate. The Graduate Today I become The Graduate, the third in my immediate nuclear family, after Mum and Dad. Something about today has induced a lot of stress and melancholy in me, and I have been trying to understand this feeling. I want to tell you […]Read more "USP Lives: Full Stops and Full Stories"
“So…what are you going to do after you graduate?” In all honesty, I am a little tired, and more than a bit terrified of this query. One cannot help but feel a little tired past the sixty-fifth or so time being asked this same question, so I decided to lay it out in a post. […]Read more "Confessions of a Frightened Wanderer"
Buyer, climber, dreamer beware: it feels empty at the summit. I went to collect my graduation gown today. It was a rather uneventful experience. You turn up, tell them your name, they look up the sizes you had previously indicated prior to the collection day, you try on the gown – die a little […]Read more "USP Lives: Wearing the Last Skin"
How do worlds end? In a supernova flash, or a whimpering flicker? Which world ended today? Just a small one, as I finished my last writing conference at the USP Writing Centre yesterday, at about 3pm. It did not dawn on me until midway through the session, as I laboured to explain what was problematic […]Read more "USP Lives: Making the Write Choice"
It’s the last official day of my undergraduate life! I am not good with goodbyes. And after such a long hiatus from blogging, I am not too sure if I am still good with this writing thing. But I thought that today of all days would be a good day to pause, to reflect and […]Read more "The Glow at the End of the World"
I sat next to this pen at the busstop. We didn’t have much of a conversation, but I wondered what stories it had to tell, if only I’d asked the right questions: whose hands had cradled it, through long puzzled hours; and then, in a pique of absentmindedness, had left it behind? What places had […]Read more "The Odysseys of Little Things"