The long goodbye

It seems like the end of this era is one long extended goodbye.

Not that I'm complaining.

This three-year-long-chapter/era has been the best one of my life as yet - but even as we fight to clutch at the memories and remnants of what has passed, part of us know that we should and want to, move on.

It seems like as far back as the post-exam celebrations began, people were lamenting that this was going to our last exam, our last lecture, get-together etc...

Then it became everytime we had a meal - it was a last meal with different combinations of people, making it a series of last meals that until now, hasn't abated.

Not to mention everytime someone came to pack or clean the house, it became the last time we'll sleep here, the last time we'll clean here...

Then the series of long, extended, last goodbyes that hangs tentatively in the air whenever we meet up - am I going to see you tomorrow? no? awww... i'm going to miss you.
Oh, am I seeing you tomorrow? ok, i'll wait till then to say goodbye.
and of course...
the denial stage:
Nooo... I don't wanna leave! This is going to be the last time we're all together!

I seem to have exhausted all the goodbyes now.
Every gathering seems to have this air of change, regret, anticipation, and of the awkward oh-i-have-to-say-goodbye-to-you-now-what-should-I-say moment.
Some people you don't ever want to say goodbye to, some people you don't know if it matters whether you say goodbye or not. But when that moment of parting comes, it's all a tug-of-war of emotions - and then you realise the subtle layers of feeling you never really acknowledged within you. Surprise. But lovely, sad, cruel and poignant.

I don't wish it to end. But yet it all has to. (As the (weird chinese) saying goes, only when the old goes, the new comes. )

I can almost feel the literal last pages of this chapter closing.
You know how sometimes you read a book you like so much and when you approach the end, even though you're dying to know the result and finish the story at the fastest speed; but you know deep down you love it so much you don't want it to end, you sub/consciously try to stall the last few pages, savour every word.
Two forces in conflict, trying to determine the pace by which you end a memory.

It is a struggle that doesn't come very often, but when it does, you appreciate every moment of it.
For better, or for worse.

Grace

I cried the other day (23rd June 2005) when I saw my name on a white piece of paper in my department.

The night before I was lying in bed and the three years of university life played itself out in my head.
Amidst silent anxious prayers, fits of paranoia and waves of feeling absolutely ludicrous about myself, I mused about what awaited me the next day and whether things would turn out the way I wanted it to, or the way it should, whether it was my way or not.

I thought about the all-nighters of absolute agony - whether it would all pay off, or prove itself too risky a way of getting through my degree.
It was nostalgic recall, the number of times I had stupidly left crucial essays to the very last minute, only to struggle through the night, the lowest point being 5-6am in the morning, feeling sick with mental and physical exhaustion, heightening at the first sign of daylight rising to mock me. Of course, then looking a right wreck through the next day, running into departments to meet deadlines - then swearing never again to abuse myself in that manner......

... only to repeat the entire process in a very excruciating (and perverse) way of torturing myself.

Then I remember the crazy year being on the exec and doing all those performances from primary schools to regional competitions.... all that mental podium dancing and general craziness....

the elation of pushing the limits of neurological boundaries...

the feeling-bad-about-going-out-when-i've-got-so-much-work-to-do-feeling...

the self-comforting thoughts...

the self-doubt and self-blame....

In the end, I knew that one's intelligence is not defined by a piece of paper. But if I didn't achieve what I knew I was capable of achieving... I knew I had only me to blame for not meeting self-expectations (not to mention family/*/other expectations). I only prayed I would have the Grace to accept what was to come.

I had butterflies in my stomach before it all climaxed, I was nervous I couldn't eat. I gripped B's hand, gave M a tight hug. I took comfort I wasn't the only one who wasn't sure of their end result...

In my head, all I could think about was it's just a piece of paper

In my deeper mind, I knew if my exams went as well as I thought it did - there wasn't a reason why I wouldn't get it.

In my heart, I was afraid something went wrong somewhere - or someone somewhere decided I had played too much for my own good.

I then saw that fateful piece of white paper and couldn't decide which part of it paper I should look under for my name - class one or two.

I went with the top and deliriously discovered my surname in the said list - I got my first class degree with honours.

I jumped up and squeezed her so tight I thought we both would pop. I cried a little, and then a little bit more.. from all that tension and anxiety and proceeded to share my joys with the ones that mattered.

In all that relief that overwhelmed me, all I remembered was His Grace.

I was cutting it fine with all the chances I took, playing with time and my degree - but in the end, I realised it was a fine balance.

Amidst all the tears and emotion and hugs and goodbyes, I silently gave thanks that I made it.

Away

Sorry for the lack of posts!
have been too busy having too much time to do nothing.

Away till Wed for Final Fling - meanwhile it's a festival down the coast and loads of lush countryside.

I'll be back soon!