I wrote a post when I finished my undergraduate days. Back then, it was one of many written by other people who were also graduating. Now we’re done with being post-graduates, but not one of those lazy bastards has written anything. It’s enough to drive you to the bottle. Maybe I should drive them to the bottle, plonk them in front of a computer and make them write, under pain of listening to me sing.
I must say, it’s been fun — five full years of it. I’ve met many interesting people. I’ve become friends with even more interesting people. And some people I can’t imagine how I did without them. Whom did I insult and poke fun at before?!? Now, now. Those guys I did that to before need not take offense. It’s just that these people are easier to bait. You were expecting glowing praise and heartfelt compliments? Do you not know me at all?
I can’t say that I’ve learnt a great deal about the canon of English literature. It might be fairer to say that I’ve acquired a smattering of knowledge that allows me to bluster my way through my exams. I’m mighty grateful none of my professors read this blog, because I still have to give my final exams. If they catch on to my tricks, then they might examine my answers more critically. However, it might also be that they’ll realize that while my answers might be a bit short on theory and other such things, it certainly won’t be short on reasoning, analysis and my own opinions. I think that’s the best thing I’ve learnt during these five years. See how I managed to praise myself and my university and professors at the same time? Show me where else you could learn to do that? I’m sorry, what was that? Of course I’ll accept your apologies for being unable to find anything similar. It’s all right.
It’s been a fairly smooth ride, with the occasional bumps of crazy, and the rare pothole. I don’t think I’ll be forgetting the crazy bits anytime soon. I’ve acquired enough stories to fill a bookshelf. All right, that might be an exaggeration. But I could certainly write a three-volume novel. In fact, I think everyone of us could write a three-volume novel. Between us, we could definitely fill a bookshelf. And it would be one of the most entertaining bookshelves in history. All right, maybe those war years would be full of excitement and distress. The sixties might be full of cultural significance. But then, I’m not going to go into full-blown nostalgia mode when I read books from those shelves.
It’s slightly scary that I’ll soon have to start working. I need a job for that first though. At the moment of going to press, I have no job or offers, except maybe the faintest hope of one. In case you know of any, drop me a line. I don’t have to work of course. I could do an M.Phil, another M.A., some other degree, or just be an unemployed layabout. But I’d rather work. I’ve studied enough. It’s time to put these skills to the test. While procrastination might be the more comfortable option, it’s not an option I wish to take anymore. I don’t think the skills will be the problem. It’s just the whole idea of actually being employed full-time. It’s hard to get my head around the concept. I’ll have to accept that I’ve grown up. What’ll be next? Old age? Death? Snakes and shotguns?!? Get off my fucking lawn!
Employment is scary. I’ll be responsible for my mistakes and they’ll have greater consequences than just lesser marks on a test. Or will they? Maybe I’ll just be a Wally — drinking coffee, shirking responsibility and making sarcastic comments about all my co-workers. I doubt that though. Well, maybe not the coffee. I’ve worked on enough projects to know that I’ll always pull my weight. I wonder if that expression arose from the galleys? But I can’t do half-assed jobs on projects and stuff. It’s like an itch that has to be scratched.
It’s also hard to imagine forming a new routine, one that’s different from the “Get up, get ready, go to campus, spend all day engaged in various activities, return or go to friend’s house, rinse, repeat.” Going to the campus has become almost second nature. I don’t even register details on my way to the campus anymore. My feet just automatically complete the journey, kinda like cruise control. It’s not as if the campus hasn’t changed. I know fewer people there now. But soon, I’ll know even fewer people. Eventually, I’ll know almost no one. I’ll be one of those who come by, look around aimlessly and then head out again. I might run into some of those who become campus institutions. The ones who become one of the sights on campus and join the league of dhop’er chop and the KMR. They will be the only ones I’ll know. And then I’ll kill time by talking about pointless things. Even now, I kill time by talking about pointless things, but at least the ones I do it with are people with whom it’s fun. There, you happy? I complimented you. Now will you stop with the waterboarding? Seriously!
It’s now that I think we have it both the best and the worst when it comes to staying in touch. On one hand, we have such methods like social networking, text messages, cheap call rates and other such methods of staying in touch with the minimum amount of effort. Unfortunately, all this ease also makes it all too easy to take people for granted. You start off thinking “Hmm. Haven’t talked to X in a long time. Must catch up soon. Oh well, there’s always or maybe I’lll just text. Eh! I’ll do it tomorrow. It’ll only take a minute.” and before you know it months have elapsed and you find that X’s life is not all that interesting now that the principal characters are all unknown to you. I intend to remedy this by making sure that I become a recluse. This way I’ll have no principal characters and you buggers will have to be interested in my life. See what all I plan to endure for you people? Where’s my money, bitches?!?
Of course, it is more than likely that the people I want to stay in touch with — notice how that expression makes it possible to avoid naming anybody, thus making everybody think they’re included. Learn this skill. It’s very useful — will be in the same place that I am. That would mean that I don’t have to be a recluse. It would also mean that wherever I am will witness periodic acts of lunacy. Or at least occasional drunken misdemeanours. And no, I’m not telling you about any drunken misdemeanours. Do you even know what a misdemeanour is? Oh wait, you do? Well, jolly sucks to you, I’m not telling you.
I’m already over a thousand words in and I haven’t said a single thing of relevance or interest. Just shows what happens when you force someone to write a farewell post. There’s so much to say that you end up not saying anything. Having mastered the art of writing absolutely inane stuff, I can write a long post and still be completely inane and pointless. That’s a highly useful skill. Learn it.
I’ve seen quite a few changes around me, none more so in the people. Now that I’ve acquired the interest of those who’ve stuck around till this point, let me disappoint you by saying that in the main, they’ve been changes for the better. The ones who’ve changed for the worse aren’t worth the effort, as a great man would say. I’m not sure if any great man ever said this, but it sounds like something great men would say. Actually it sounds more like something some American would make a photoshopped motivational image out of. But who is to say they won’t be great. Everyone has to start somewhere. The ones who’ve changed for the better have become funnier, nicer, and other adjectives, some of which are unsuitable for a family-friendly blog such as mine. Fuck you all! Cursing is an integral part of the family but adjectives are not. That is an important lesson. Learn it.
As you might have noticed, this post has been almost entirely about me. It’s because I can’t presume to write about other people. They’re inscrutable and I have no idea what they’re thinking. Except when they insult me. Then they’re very vocal about their opinions. And they’re uniformly unflattering and hence they have been rejected as possible candidates for inclusion in this post. If you wish to be famous by appearing on this blog, start saying nice things about me and my various skills. The best compliment wins a mention on this blog. The contest closes when I die. So you have time to come up with something that really captures the brilliant piece of your life that is me. Put your thinking caps on! But finish reading this post first.
In fact, I have very little else to say. I really only wrote this so that other people might be shamed into writing theirs. I mean, when the least articulate amongst you writes a 1500+ word post, you can surely do better! And remember to make it juicy, salacious, bitchy, scandalous and full of gossip that I never knew. Remember, I’ll be reading each and every one of your posts so I’ll need to have a lot of the dirt if my attention is not to go a-wandering.
Also, am I not a brilliant ray of sunshine?