a day in the life

The sky looks beautiful today. A very deep shade of light blue, cloudless but for a lone dark wisp meekly threatening to sprinkle a few drops of rain. The breeze quietly rustles through the leaves, blowing gently behind your back as you accelerate downhill on your way to an 8 am class on your bicycle. You roll along merrily , humming CCR's Proud Mary.
Days like these make you happy, and you thank god that the powers-that-be had the good sense to ban all powered vehicles on campus.

You take a window seat in Digital Signals Processing, periodically dropping in on the professor's drone on the regions of convergence in Z-transforms. You begin to reflect on his eccentricities, and conclude that he looks like Fido-Dido and Dilbert rolled into a cat on a hot tin roof. The hour passes, a trifle slowly, ending with his lamentations on the absence of any budding mathematicians in class, our limitations horribly exposed by the inability to prove a corollory of the Fundamental Theorem of Algebra.

As you walk down to Spectroscopy, you think of Will Hunting, and how you secretly think you are a bit like him. You wonder if you are capable of throwing everything away, as 'you had to see about a girl'. This quandrary still unresolved, you enter class. The professor is teaching for the first time in his life, and he looks at you with big searching eyes and bunny-teeth for a little support, maybe even some encouragement.You try to acquiesce.His daughter is sick in hospital, and he has spent the night with her. You hope she gets better soon, and you consider what it feels like to be a father. A father with a sick child.

Solid State Devices is next, and you marvel at how elegant the lady professor looks today. It confirms your theory that any woman can be made to look pretty, if not spectacular, if dressed well. Her saccharine sweet voice lulls you into a dreamy reverie, interspersed with metaphoric electric-aid-kool-acid-visions into energy band diagrams and the theory of p-n junctions.

Dynamical Systems is next, and as is becoming an irritatingly regular habit, the instructor fails to turn up. You chat with one of the few people you consider your friend, and mutually decide that Meredith Brooks' 'Bitch' is a fine song to perform at a 'Western Music' (daftly named, i know) contest, especially if you are from the girl's hostel. On a lark, you begin singing Sixpence None the Richer's 'There She Goes',and soon it's time for lunch.

You have your best lunch in weeks, and troop up to your room on the top floor of your hostel. You turn on the computer,and begin listening to Lisa Loeb's beautiful 'Stay'. You get annoyed with Blogspot, which does not allow you to make any comments on your own blog.

You decide to update. It's been more than a week now.

Soon, in thirty minutes, you will attend Statistical Physics, followed by a free hour you plan to spend staring at her. A class of Industrial Engineering, and plenty of really bad puns from the good-natured professor later, you'll be back, another day in your life washed away by the trivialities of existence.