The cure to writer’s block is Oreos. It’s only by consuming nearly a boxful that I’ve managed to begin this article. By the time I end it however, I’m certain we’ll all be comfortably sitting in our homes watching the latest episode of ‘ Kusum’ or whatever Indian drama is fashionable nowadays.
I’ll give you this though; the semester passed faster than a speeding bullet. I still recall the first day of university like it was a week ago. At this pace, I’ll be over with TIP before I know it and before I have any idea what’s going on. We first years only have half a year left as the center of attention. Soon another batch of straight-from-the-schoolroom boys and girls will take our place as celebrities. Sigh…all good things come to an end; the semester is ending, the year is ending, the Pakistan-England cricket series is ending and so is my box of Oreos. I wish scientists would invent something useful, like time turners, rather than wasting their energy in alternately increasing and decreasing the size of mobile phones.
I keep thinking…just one week left. That’s all. Maybe I am being melodramatic but think about it: time’s flying and not on fairy wings either, but on giant turbo jet engines. You can see every minute running past and by the time you eventually notice it, it’s over. And the worst part is knowing that what just happened wont occur again. The moment is gone, get used to it.
People say a lot about life; it should be enjoyed to the fullest, it goes on, it’s short, it’s made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles with sniffles predominating, and that if God had to live it, he’d kill himself. All I know about it is that as I’m writing, it’s passing me by. Even when I’m enjoying myself, it’s gong on and when I’m in the depths of despair it’s doing the same thing. And when you realize that the only thing in life you can be sure of is death; you wish you could stop thinking about it. It’s not a cheerful thought, but then, very few thoughts are. Except maybe thoughts concerning chocolate.
I read somewhere that if a person slept eight hours a day everyday, he’d spend one third of his life sleeping. Thus if he was thirty years old, he’d have spent ten years of his life unconscious. On contemplation, I guess he might consider that decade the most worthwhile time he had. When you’re asleep you’re not hurting anyone, intentionally or unintentionally. You’re not making those thousands of miniscule mistakes that will return to haunt you as you grow older, and most importantly, you’re not continuously eating and gaining weight (my box of Oreos has long finished and I’m on the search for something else). Life would be just swell if we could spend it sleeping. I know I wouldn’t mind as long as the dreams are nice.