so slowly time goes by

October 25, 2005


Ten months. That’s how long I’ve been in the army. I’m one week away from my ‘one year left’! mark. What’s up with me and my life, you may ask. The answer is: nothing much. I’ve been bumming about and truth be told being a conscript is ill preparation for life in the future. The only habits I’ve learnt are bad ones, like how to lie to get yourself out of a bad situation, how to cheat to get out of going to work, how to sabotage others just so you can save yourself. I’ve always thought that I was a terrible person; now I know that I am probably going to rot in hell (not that I believe in it).

Funny isn’t it, how one year moves on just like that. Everyone’s embarking on their A-levels now: barely one year ago I was freaking out myself about how badly/well I would do, dreaming up the direst consequences, imagining that the exams would be the toughest thing I’d ever have to face. How wrong I was. The toughest thing I have ever had to face is ennui, neglect, and the many miseries of surviving and going on. Philip Larkin never rang truer (‘postmen like doctors go from house to house’ or something like that, and the ‘bad habits of expectancy’), and I shudder to think of the many existences that go on, on a quotidian basis, which have no meaning other than to perform a ridiculous perfunctory job just so that a living can be made and the mantle of mediocrity passed on to ill-begotten progeny. The age of industrialisation, the age of modernity, the age of healthcare, the age of information technology: and man is reduced to no more than mindless automaton. I’m fairly sure everyone in every epoch has thought this, I am rehashing old soup. But sometimes the clichés are true, and Mariah Carey, like Celine Dion’s proverbial heart, will go on and on.

A warning to all those sitting for their exams now: don’t fret too much about them, because eventually you’ll reach a place where no-one cares for your grades, your stellar ability to mug those brains out, your intellectual prowess. Lurking in the future is a rendezvous with a warrant officer, a millionaire chicken-rice seller, or a rapist. Education and culture have done nothing to dent their neanderthal minds. And eventually I guess we all do reach that ultimate non-respecter of persons, death. It surprises me to find out how few actually have fun with their lives.

One year on, and one year left to go. Nineteen verging on twenty, not a girl, not yet a woman. I’m nearly not a teenager anymore, so someone catch me when I fall.

Like my father’s come to pass
Twenty years has gone so fast
Wake me up when September ends


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