Wednesday, 15 June 2011

I want to remember.

I want to remember today. It wasn't any special day, where anything extraordinary happened, but this may be the last time that this day is what I once knew as ordinary.

Today, I handed in my last undergraduate assignments.

I want to remember how laborious these journalism assignments were - from brainstorming for solid story ideas that can be supported not only with strong interviews but also strong research, to conducting those interviews and actually writing the stories. I want to remember what a challenge it is to analyse every sentence a source says, and to have to be ruthless in selecting quotes for my stories.

I want to remember that wretched adrenaline rush every procrastinator university student gets as he/she looks at the clock, looks at the half-done document in front, and grinds out each word until momentum (finally!) builds and distractions lie forgotten.

I want to remember what a pain in the ass it is to finish your assignment only to realise your printer isn't working. Or it's run out of ink. Or you've finally printed out 20 pages of a research piece and stapled it, only to find a typo gnaw at your eyes on page 1.

I want to remember that desperate feeling of battling the seductive lure of sleep when it's 7am and your butt is numb on the swindly chair, your fingers clacking away at your laptop.

I want to remember how looming deadlines go hand-in-hand with flurries of Facebook status message updates complaining about how we're all struggling to meet our deadlines. Followed by another fifteen minutes of commenting on each other's status messages about how there never seems to be enough time to get our work done.

I want to remember that feeling today as I sat in my car, listening to sappy love songs on the radio and replying text messages while waiting for the rain to stop. I want to remember that moment when I realised I had left that embarrassing (yet obviously necessary) Hello Kitty umbrella in my orange Kipling, when all I had with me was my tiny floral chained bag that couldn't fit a Doraemon magic object if it tried.

I remember noticing things about my six-year-old Myvi that I never quite noticed before ... like how the shadow of raindrops do pixie dances on my dashboard, or that my gear panel has "2" and "L" that I never used before. I want to remember how I wondered what they're there for ... but being too damned lazy to Google it, even now as I'm blogging about it. XD

I want to remember that slight self-conscious feeling of knowing my denim dress hangs an inch above my ankles as I walk into campus to hand in my assignments after the rain finally stopped. I know I'm an inch too tall for the dress, but I wear it anyway - and I wonder if I can get away with "I'll wear this anyway" when I'm no longer a student, but someone's employee.

I want to remember the always-awkward feeling of entering a lift when there are others inside, but nobody is saying anything to each other. I want to remember that the boy on the right smelled like McDonald's french fries, and the one on the left smelled faintly of cigarettes.

I want to remember that as the lift climbed up the floors and french fries and cigarettes left, a janitor lady walked in pulling a big green recycling bin on wheels. I want to remember smiling at her, and how she smiled back.

I want to remember how I wondered what her life is like, what her family is like, where she came from, what her name is. But I never asked, I just let the thoughts run through my mind in the ten seconds before I reached the sixth floor and handed in 44 pages of assignments.