Tales From the Down Under: #3 Every Breath I've Fought For May Be Fragmented At Any Moment

I've been bewildering at the idea of things going from bad to worse, or things reaching to such a pinnacle that they are destined to fail. It is not karma I'm trying to elucidate but rather some wicked old witch's clairvoyance which I can never decipher.

Studying is made overwhelming if other trivial yet muddling fuss slides across. It is almost impossible to root out all the hindrances since university life entails one's preparation to a more independent adult world. Therefore, being independent of the words I ramble about and dependent on the actions I shall take is what appears to be the most challenging. Thankfully, like every start of a new year, I scrawled all over my schedule book of how I'm going to squander my weekends. The diligence can only be paid off if every single letter is spelt out correctly and accurately in its place.

It is like staring at the sun with persistent eyes only to prove that you can never win over it. When you are bulged with inexplicit anger and you can find no way to vent it, injustice is how you define the word. To struggle to be a typical student, I did dream of the ordinaries. Or I do still dream sometimes, having a life without muddle; being level-headed, pracitcal-minded.

Gratefully I was able to veer back to the track and be a realistic person, and deem all my stupid follies of 2010 as those who can only live in my diary but not in my nightmarish memory. As I stared persistently to the setting sun in the vain hope of prevailing it, optimistic thoughts suddenly came like thunderstorm, that I'm studying music, art history and English literature therefore I should be contented and happy.

Therefore the sun stared back but never managed to blind me.

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Honore Daumier

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Musings. Ex Libris

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