To Eight More Months

Hey guys,

It’s happened. My summer holidays have finally come to an end. Tomorrow is the first day of my final year at college. I’ve absolutely no interest in college resuming, but I’ve got about eight months or so before someone announces my name and sets me free only to go and get a Masters. The studying never ends, does it?

(And clearly, neither do the exams.)

I had a nightmare last night that I only scored a ten on sixty on my French final and I’m still a bit rattled from that very vivid dream. The list of books that I need to get and begin reading has already begun popping in. With about three books for each paper, and the five papers that I’ve got, it’ll be a wonder if I can read anything else from my actual TBR. Books that I have to read include: Jane Eyre, A Christmas Carol, Metamorphosis, Antigone among several others that are yet to be announced. Oh, and there’s poetry too. And then there’s me – someone who doesn’t really enjoy classics and positively loathes poetry. Sometimes I wonder (and so do my friends, very loudly) why I’m studying Literature at all. I think it’s because I’d like to know how to analyse a book, not the analysis of a particular book, you see. And I figured it’d help me with my creative writing, but it seems like this blog has worked more on that than my twenty-mark, six page answers.

Enough about academics, there’s a lot more to my final year or so I hope. I remember when I was fifteen and standing outside Xavier’s and wondering if I’d ever get in and get to experience the college life that seemed so utterly enamouring then. And I did get the chance, and it seems as though I blinked four times and four years have gone by. At nineteen, I can now look back through my years and see how much I’ve grown (a full three inches and some) and how many wonderful experiences I’ve had. If my final year has half of them, it’s going to be a great one.

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I’ve made so many friends, lost some of them, I’ve participated in things I didn’t know I had the talent for and then polished that talent into something that resembles a career plan. I’ve been pushed out of my comfort zone, forced to think outside the box and cajoled into experiences that I will cherish for the rest of my life.

At the end of the day though, Xavier’s is just a structure – what brings it alive are the people within. Which includes all of my friends, acquaintances, the seniors I looked up to and emulated, the juniors I respected and loved, the faculty I learned from (in more ways than one) and strangers that have taught me something or the other. I know I sound like this is the last day ever, but I know across these eight months I’m going to wish death on several people, including myself, either due to academics or extracurricular activities or life in general. So this post is supposed to be a reminder that I’ve wanted to be here since seventh grade, and even though some days are particularly difficult (I’m thinking of you, romantic poetry), Xavier’s has still given me some of the best times of my life. And here’s to eight more months of it before it’s gone forever.

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In other news, I went to a meet up for Bombay Bookstagram folks on Sunday. Twelve bookworms, a hell lot of books and some amazing food turned it into one of the best days this year. It’s weird how much fun you can have with people who share your interests and invite you to learn about something new.

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People who support what I read without dissing it are my favourite kind of people. And since I’ve always believed reading to be a solitary activity, our little band of misfit readers makes me happy to be wrong. Reading is something that makes me utterly happy, and I’m glad I get to share my hobby with such amazing folks.

If any of you are reading this, know that you are brilliant and you made my day.

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Bombay Bookstagram.

For the others, I’ll write as soon as my brutal curriculum gives me some time to breathe – which will hopefully be sooner than I think, because it certainly sounds as though Armageddon is coming dressed in poetry and classics tomorrow.

Goodbye, Summer 2016. You’ve been great.

Until next time,

Nia Carnelio.

 

 

 

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