Small things

I look forward to Saturday mornings when we take the dogs out for a long walk in the playground of an abandoned government school, next to our residential complex. We have to get there through a break in the boundary wall, stepping carefully away from some garbage dumped by the neighbouring houses and pulling the dogs away to stop them from burying their noses in the filth. 

There are trees lining the playground, large trees with thick trunks and some with low, sturdy branches, that you can climb, sit on and dangle your legs from. There are thin paths running through overgrown grass and plenty of ground to walk and run. There is a lovely grove of trees in the middle of the playground, where you can find shade from the sun and watch the wildflowers sway in the breeze in the dappled sunlight. Tiny flowers of yellow, cream, purple, red and pink.

Sometimes there are grazing buffaloes, with peaceful eyes and gentle snorts. Sometimes there is a man in a hat and sunglasses, practising manoeuvres with his remote-controlled car.

Cat

9.30 in the evening and it is raining heavily in the city. My cat's head has emerged from under the armchair. I watch her stretch and yawn. The night has become quite cold, and I haven't turned off the fan yet. She walks up to my chair, regards me with her honey-coloured eyes a while and then she leaps into my lap. Circle, circle, settle.

Now I have a warm, purring cat on my lap and it is pouring outside. 

It probably doesn't get better than this.

 

'..."what is there in this world that truly makes living worthwhile?" Death thought about it. CATS, he said eventually. CATS ARE NICE.'

Opportunity

 "Whenever I get ready to write really sincere notes in this notebook, I shall have to undertake such a disentangling in my cluttered brain that, to stir up all that dust, I am waiting for a series of vast empty hours, [...] a convalescence, during which my constantly reawakened curiosities will be at rest; during which my sole care will be to rediscover myself."

 

Well, now is the time, the perfect opportunity of a convalescence has presented itself.

Hasty decisions

Last year I had taken upon the task of studying for a postgrad course on a distance education programme.

There are a few reasons why I took this decision, despite knowing how little time I would have left over in a day after working a full-time job, and being thoroughly aware of how much attention three pets and a partner require:

1. The urge to do something other than my tedious day-job surged in me like boiling lava, and before I knew it, I had enrolled myself in a course.

2. I thought it would be a cool experiment to study something I had no interest in, and see if I could do it. So, I chose "Public Administration".

3. It felt possible to me then, because the University allowed the students to finish the course in three to four years, instead of the usual two. 

4. I rather fancied I could be one those people who study many different things just for the heck of it.

Now, after a year and a few months, I have only read a few pages, haven't submitted (or written) any of the assignments and have no idea of how to start getting a grip on things. Also, the subject is, quite obviously, very boring. But I continue to hope at the end of every day that I shall study a page or two tonight, and if not tonight, then surely tomorrow night.

Perhaps trying to unearth interesting things in my course material so that I can blog about them will inspire me to study?