Tuesday, November 07, 2006

My days...

The morning starts with waking up to the beep of the alarm. It is 8 45. Hmmm, class is only at 11 15, the bus is at 10 50, i need to leave the house at 10 47, i need to put on my shoes at 10 45, i need to start my breakfast at 10 35, i need to pack my lunch (and snack, and water, and gatorade... not the lime flavour, it's lemony! Not the grape flavour, it's grapy! Orange flavour, hmmm, not so orangy, i'll take that) at 10, i need to get dressed at 9 50 (moisturiser, moisturiser... dry skin? No... Oily skin? No... Normal to oily skin, that's the one!) not to forget sunscreen. Just a teensy dab of the spf-20 lotion to protect my soft rosy cheeks from the burning november sun in this hill station. So, I need to have my bath at 9 30. 45 minutes more. I go back to sleep.

"Wake up, woman, it is 10 !!!"

Who... where am i... damn... what the...

Thankfully, my roomie is quick at everything. She blitzes through her shower, so I have the bathroom at my disposal. She's already packed her lunch the previous night, pours milk and cereal into a bowl, and she's off. If only I could!

I yawn through the shower, swear at the dryness in the air that forces me to apply moisturiser for 5 whole minutes everyday, apply extra layer of sunscreen on my face, coz I know I have to walk the whole way. Thank god for my gentle exfoliating face wash bar, I can get all this off in the night.

I put rice to cook in the pressure cooker, meanwhile heating the 3-day-old vegetable and kozhambu in the microwave. I'm simultaneously making porridge, stirring the boiling milk. Not 1%, it's unpalatable, not 2% (BIG difference), it's still unpalatable, not skimmed milk, it's still very unpalatable. WHOLE milk. Full fat. Vitamin D. Just so it can get past my tongue. I need to pack a snack. One snack won't do. Make it two. One bottle of trail mix. Almonds, raisins, dried pineapple, papaya, peanuts, walnuts. Two sets of sandwich. Whole wheat bread with strawberry preserves and... hmmm... what do I put on the other side? Plain unsalted butter or creamy peanut butter? Wait a minute, I'm carrying two sandwiches. I'll apply each on one. The rice is ready. I pack it into a microwaveable lunch box and stuff it into my bag.

My bag. My home away from home. I load it with a mini version of everything. Umbrella, water bottle, 3 different colored folders for three subjects, a notebook, pencil pouch, planner (ye, I'm busy!!!) calculator, post-its (pink or yellow? Compromise. Pink for my bag, yellow for my table), wallet, keys, mints, comb, lip balm, moisturiser (more!), campus map, bus schedule, lunch, snack, drink, gloves, cap... it goes on. I stare at the back of the door, wondering what to wear. My denim jacket, the university branded sweatshirt, or the double layered winter jacket. It may be sunny, but that doesnt mean it ain't freezing cold. I go for the last option.

My denim-blue leather strapped casual sporty watch says 11. Class in 15 minutes. I start from home, my 30 GB jukebox in hand and the mega bookbag on my bony back. I walk, walk, walk. Up and down the hilly slopes (Happy valley, they call it. Ye, right. Some valley.) Huff, puff, pant. Cars speed by, thankfully I don't cough to their exhausts. I walk past the green meadows... wait, that is a football field. I walk past tall trees... wait, they are houses made of wood. I walk past a coin lying on the pavement... wait, that's a condom.

It is 11 20 when I reach the department. I rush to the classroom. Ouch!!! Static electricity in the air gives my thumb a bad shock, and I wince in pain for 2 seconds. I'm still catching my breath, I'm inside class, the professor glances at me, nothing new, acknowledges my constistent 5-minute late arrival to his class. I pull out the folder and my 0.7 leaded pencil when I realise I have no clue what he is talking about.

The next class isn't all that bad. I nod along to everything he says. The next class is bad, it is for 75 minutes.

I go for work, tutoring tired athletes. I throw calculus at them when all they want is a good night's sleep.
"So... what am I trying to find again?"
"So... oh, wait, my mistake..."
"So... Hey ye that's the answer!"
"So... ye that makes sense, I'm comfortable with that."
"So... if it is x multiplying 8+x, does the x go to both or jus the 8?"
God shall not forgive me for it, but at least he pays me for the month's expenses. Thank you Lord.

I walk back home at 10. I wonder if I should settle for a box of chocolate chip cookies, or have pasta with chunky garden vegetable sauce. Then I remember I still have food in the fridge. I heat and eat the now 3-and-half day old vegetable and kozhambu for dinner, check my mail, break my head over the assignment whose submission is in 2 days. I give up, have a glass of cold milk with dark chocolate syrup, cleanse the cosmetics off my face with the glycerine bar, brush my sensitive teeth with a medicated tooth paste and go to bed.

And I say a little prayer. Thank you God, for not letting me give in to this materialistic world...


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