the aftermath

It’s the aftermath after the day and I’m listening to Norah Jones for a slow day

I still can’t describe that feeling, the moment the chassis was rolled out in its shiny steel frame. It’s almost a self fulfilling emotion when you’re running that low on sleep and energy I guess, but the important point is that I had it so it doesn’t really matter.

The chassis was to be sent out on Friday morning to technicoat for powdercoating. One of the seniors had sent out e-mail the night before about things that still had to be done before Friday morning. I went in after during the afternoon and started to make parts.I had Subway at 9p and then started to help out in the sandpaper process. It’s funny how fast time flies in the night. Another look up at the clock, an hour had passed.
It was 4am before I decided I couldn’t work anymore and sat on the couch. At this point, I had two options, go back to sleep and get barely enough sleep to function the next day OR stay up and survive on adrenaline alone.As any another crazy freshman, I chose to stay and wait.

At some point, we decided that using our captain’s card to get access to hand in our homework in the upper floors of the department would be a good idea. And my friend said his friend had asked him to hand in his piece of homework, which he had conveniently left in his room. At some point, cycling to our rooms became a good idea.Then, we were zooming across the streets usually so populated by pedestrians, pedalling as fast I could.It was a liberating experience, I couldn’t quite describe it. It just sort of gave this other feel to streets that were usually characterized by monotonous vignettes of people walking from here to there only with a purpose of getting there.Cycling made this travelling purposeful, fun .
After we got the homework, we decided to go back.At some point, I decided that going down a flight of stairs in one of the quads was going to be a good idea, because the slope part was covered in ice. I knew the first second while going down the stairs that I was going to crash so I braced myself and somehow fell into the snow/water/ice-soaked mud.I was fine, except the wound probably caused by the concrete ground.I got up within twenty seconds with a mud jacket and continued back towards the shop.
We went up to hand in our homework and somehow the janitor was also awkwardly there in the lift with us.It was only when we came back down to the lobby and walking towards the shop that we heard the janitor talking to the on duty security office with a suspicious tone on the lines of “… going up there and coming back down…” We just walked away as quickly as we could.

At some point, we stuffed someone’s jacket with a pillow and waste paper and with some old suits and shoes and helmet and welding gloves and created our very own Stig.

Then, the team captain walked out with the chassis. I guess it was a self fulfilling feeling at this point after so many crazy things that happened that night. It was an amazing feeling

. We took turns taking pictures and sitting in it and I realized how much had happened before it now stood before us like that.

There’s some point to this story.At some point during the night, I was thinking of how I would be retrospectively looking at the event.and here’s my logic
Time cannot be controlled, minus the physicist’s insane idea about going to absolute zero and the geographers lame idea about going back time zones. We’re always moving toward in time, therefore the best thing would be to make a decision that would maximize the benefits of NOW, this moment in time.
With the same token of logic,We’re always moving toward in time, therefore whatever we reference and think of is something about the past.Therefore, we should always choose the decision that maximizes the future.
There’s a contradicting argument here between what we define as now and what we define as that future we’re maximizing. At some point, future will become now so are they the same idea?
As to the boundaries between happiness and maximum benefit, that’s difficult to prove, as there are always the self sacrificing single asian mothers who worked three jobs during the 60s to pay for the son’s tuition and then the kid suddenly decides to jump off the buildling one day. Then, where do I stand?
This post would probably have a different feel if I had been sick after that crazy night. but

the point here maybe after all of that reading is that to quote the reply that the author sent to me after I sent him that e-mail”IMHO, what makes the difference, throughout this experience, is the way you choose to draw meaning from experience. So much of learning how to think is learning how to switch off those voices in your head that doubt and dwell and regret and wish for a mulligan or a do-over that will never happen.”
time cannot be controlled, just try your best and keep living?

Currently Listening to “At Last” – Etta James

and now let me gloat about my pride and glory.

 

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