"You are what you love, and not what loves you back" - Jenny Lewis versus "If we are to discover the character of any people, we only have to examine what it loves" - St Augustine
-----
The sun now starts to set at 3:30pm. Before I run off for HY114 class, I nip to Wright's Bar for my ritual 60p Hot Chocolate. I walk holding the cup tilted, liquid away from tiny mouth of plastic lid. This is after I've spilled Hot Chocolate on my now lightwhite gettingdry palms one time too many. I dash into Connaught House, conscious of trying to remember which way the door opens. I push. It refuses to yield. I pull and feel the weight of the door in my arm and dash in quickly, stepping on the tapeddown cardboardcovered floor. I dash up the stairs. I feel conscious of the person behind me staring at my thin tightcovered ankles. I run up faster. I see my classmates standing outside the class and smile vaguely at them.
I enter class and sit in the back row, a seat away from the person closest to me. I wonder for a moment if anyone will come and sit next to me. I look around class a few minutes later and realise at least 2 people are missing. I sit alone in class today, a little island of myself surrounded by colourful chairs and folding lecture tables. I decide I don't care and proceed to sip my Hot Chocolate. I wonder if anyone is wondering what I'm drinking. I wonder how I look to the other people in my class. I catch the teacher looking at me, wanting to call me to answer questions.
I never raise my hand, I only talk when I am called upon. Sometimes I think I have something utterly groundshattering to say, but this feeling lasts only for a second. Then I am left with the feeling of being really silly and realising that I have no confidence in myself whatsoever. This bothers me for a moment, then I decide that as long as I know what I'm doing, I need not bother about anyone else. I lie back against the bright red walls and bang my head. I instinctively put my hand up to rub it. The teacher calls me, voice hopeful with a want for me to say something. I say I just banged my head against the wall, sorry. He looks a little disappointed. My classmates laugh politely. I feel amused. I think about tonight, and how I can't wait for 9pm when he comes back.
I wait outside the Old Theatre for my next GV100 lecture to start. It's dark outside. A classmate approaches and I talk to him. Another one approaches and we make some polite conversation before entering the theatre. One disappears into the crowd and I fall back to my usual seat in the back row. The first classmate joins me. Later I see the second classmate looking about for me. I feel an urge to stand up and go join him. I feel his momentarily confusion and want for human company. He settles down alone, where I can see him and feel guilty throughout the rest of the lecture. I study the back of his head, because the lecturer is batty and says about 10 minutes worth of content during the 1 hour lecture. I take out my notebook and draw the back of his head.
After the lecture I walk back. I run into Rufus and Dexter, but they're not heading back. One has French and the other got suckered into a Malaysian Club event. I walk back alone. I put on my scarf because the wind is blowing strongly. Outside Holborn tube, I take a free Evening Standard because the headline catches my eye ("A Liar, Cheat and ****" [the text got cut off here]). I think for a moment then gravitate over to the florists with the florescent lights. I inquire the price of a daisy. I evaluate it to the price of the daisies I saw in the florists at Brunswick last week. I buy the daisy, picking a nice yellow one. I carry it stiffly in front of me as I walk back, like how one might carry an umbrella. I'm afraid of someone crashing into me and destroying it, as Londoners are wont to do. I meet Zhi Wei at Russell Square. I walk back the rest of the way with her.
I reach back to the dorm. My day is beginning soon.
No comments:
Post a Comment