The Final Stretch

I came into the UK. 18, nervous, apathetic, with the slightest hint of excitement to study here, oh and cranky. Three years later, I will leave (maybe just Kent), socially awkward, bothered by the way the world runs, and with a tinny passion for business. University is either supposed to make you or break you. I am not broken, but I am not sure whether I am made either.

Over my 3 year span here in the UK, I never quite understood what it was about London that people are so eager to see. I mean, London is mostly like, London. The city of….I don’t know how to complete that sentence. London has given me two fabulous memories to take back – Harry Potter Studio Tour and Paramore. These two things make me feel like, aaaah London. Otherwise, I am all too bothered by the cold and tend not to leave my flat, except when absolutely necessary. Kent, on the other hand, was a somewhat different experience. It gave me some life lessons and incredible memories. I guess it just balanced out the London experience, in a way.

The UK may have made me a little bit more responsible and independent, but I can wholeheartedly say that I am still a lousy cook. I guess there are certain things about a person that just do not change, no matter what.

With only 3 months left for me to complete my course, I can only be fully sure about two things – I’ve made great friends and I want to be a journalist.

So, here’s to the final stretch, and the bittersweet moment on a warm July day that will present me with a certificate of congratulation.

Meera

Book-a-holic

Happy 2014, my dearest readers. I hope your year so far has been nothing more than happy.

I write to you directly from Dubai, so from Dubai, a warm hello. Here are a few fun facts: During the month of September this year, it will be 10 years since my family moved to Dubai. In April, it will be 10 years since Mean Girls released. And in September, it will be 20 years since the pilot episode of Friends.

Fun, right?

I have a collection of fun facts for this post. Actually, let’s call it a theory. But before I begin rambling on about my theory, I must share with you something about me. Almost like a fun fact. Here goes.

When I read a book, I devote myself to it so much so that I think I am part of the book. The book begins to become my life for the time being. Now, I don’t know if it is healthy or not that I focus my energy so greatly on these books. What I do know is that books keep me sane, and more often than not, I prefer the life books have to offer me.

Anyway.

The last book I read was We Need To Talk About Kevin, and if you haven’t already read it…..READ IT! NOW! NOW! Before you watch the film. Just read it. I am quite literally lost for words to be able to describe how incredible the book is. So, just a tinny summary about  the book: It is about a high-school massacre.

Not really a summary though, is it? Well, its better than saying, the book is about talking about Kevin, no? Let’s just say, in no way do I want to spoil the book for potential readers.

Anyway.

So, high-school massacres. They occur so often in America, right? Like maybe every year or so. Like, you get a kid shooting aimlessly at his fellow school-mates or college-mates, too often. So after reading the book, I was just left wondering why? What drives these kids to kill kids? Is it bullying? Or anger? Or protection? Or what? Maybe its everything put together. Maybe its misanthropy. It could be anything. But, what I noticed was that these killings get associated to video games. You know those violent video games that let gamers go on a killing spree without having to pay for their actions? Yep, those ones.

So I thought, why video games? Then, I linked video games to my love for books – almost obsessive. Maybe the kids get so hooked on to the video games, so devoted, that they think video games are real life.

Maybe.

So they go ahead with the massacre. So that’s my theory.

Pretty random or pretty basic? I’ll let you decide.

Other than that, I have been feeling incredibly nostalgic about high school. I miss it so much. I miss being 17 and 18.  15 even.

But that’s it from me, I’ll leave you with something that just popped up into my head like a second or so ago. Almost like a justification for my what seems like an unhealthy love for books. Although, why justify at all?

Read wholeheartedly or don’t read at all,

Meera