In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Two Right Feet.”
As I enjoy my sweet morning sleep, out of nowhere my phone shouts “it is time to wake up, the time is 6:00 o’clock”. Oh shit! It is another day, I say to myself. I reach for the phone and stop the alarm. I stretch and turn over in my bed, I ask myself what would happen if I continued my sleep for a few more minutes but I don’t get a clear answer. The noise of the passing vehicles along the roadside keeps getting louder and louder, why on earth did I decide to live near this busy road?, again I ask myself.
My flat mates have already switched on the corridor lights as I can see a few traces in my room. After all the several thoughts and a few negotiations reminding myself of my 2015 resolutions and how long the days’ to do list is, I finally decide to wake up. I reach for the switch on wall just beside the door to put on the lights. The light is dim at first and gets brighter after a few minutes. I struggle to open my eyes due to the light but this also only lasts a few minutes.
It is now time to do a few push-ups in my room before I head to shower. I try for the first few minutes but I fail. I almost want to give up but I remind myself of how much I need this. Down I go, I feel powerless like one who is faced with the hardest task in the world, nevertheless, I persist and the count begins, 1, 2, 3 …..10, 15, 25…. My heart is pumping so fast and sweat is already dripping from my face. I feel I should give up already but a strong voice within me reminds me of the agreement I made.
Why I am doing this? I ask myself for another time. Isn’t 25 enough for today? But you set yourself a minimum of 30, the voice replies, this time with vigour. 30 it must be! I reassure my doubting body as I remain down. And then before I know it, I get reinvigorated like one who has downed a can of Red bull; 25, 6, 7, 8, 9, 30! Yes!, Yes!, Yes!… I chant with words synonymous with the WWE wrestler, Daniel Bryan as I struggle to catch a breath. I pat myself on the back with the hope that I have now mastered the art of doing it even though I am sure the struggle would be the same the following morning.
It is now time to press that Colgate on my tooth brush, get my towel and head to the shower room. I spend 5 minutes brushing my teeth. I open the tap and adjust it to highest possible temperature. You know it is winter! I tell myself. I stand afar for a few minutes as the shower head pours the first batch of cold water, I put my hand in the way to confirm whether the temperature is one which my body is ready to tolerate.
Showering, which is supposed to take only 10 minutes, then starts. However, due to the cold weather and the warm water coming off the tap, I just don’t want to stop. It is a gain a whole lot of bargaining between my brain and my hand to stop the tap. After a few 5 or so more minutes, I leave the shower, go and dress up and hit the kitchen to warm my breakfast. Within a niche of time, my body reserves have been restored and with a huge smile, I set off to the university for a new day ready for a few more bargains. What a life!
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Pens and Pencils.”
Pens and pencils bring back memories of my time in primary school and how I transitioned from using one of these instruments to the other.
In the School I went to, passing from Primary two to join Primary three brought tremendous joy to each and every one of us as this was not just a mere promotion from one class to the other but also marked a major transition from using pencils to pens.
We celebrated this opportunity in whichever way we could. Our bragging rights were increased as no one would still make the mean statements about us being pencil-holders. It was also a sign that we had mastered the art of writing well which we all cherished. Indeed, even those with bad handwritings worked so hard to improve them because this would be enough justification to deny them their right of using a pen.
Primary three was not only a mere graduation from using a pencil to pen but also came with a reduction of subjects from 8 to 4; this we thought would mean increased playing time as there would be less to read. Awww! huge smiles filled our faces at every thought of this.
Unlike pencils, pens have several colours and using them indicated a new world of design possibilities not after the art of shading pictures using crayons that we had already mustered in the lower classes. All these thought processes filled our small medulla Oblongata’s then. Who wouldn’t have wanted to have blue, green, black and red pen markings in their books?
Amidst all this excitement, never did we ever think about the challenges that come with using a pen like the reduced chances of erasing what is written, the possibility of ink staining our well ironed white shirts or Khaki trousers that formed our school uniform or even the fact that pens were more expensive. Infact, handwritings seemed worse in pen compared to the same written with a pencil.
Expensive they were! we therefore had to be very vigilant in keeping our pens since loosing them would mean foregoing buying yourself a favourite snack at break time for several days unlike a pencil, a sacrifice no one was willing to continuously make due to carelessness. Moreover, theft of pens in school was more common than for pencils.
Interestingly, it is now 16 years since I first used a pen and probably 20 years since I first used a pencil but I still use them especially when I am writing my university examinations and every time do this, I can’t help but smile at the journey it has been.