Today is spring-cleaning day. :) Spring-cleaning of the house and possibly of the mind?

I found some secondary school books and publications I’d long forgotten about (- I wonder if they miss the attention? The irony then, that they receive this spark of attention the very moment before they’re due to be thrown or recycled!)

Anyway do y’all remember INKspiration? It’s an anthology, short stories compiled by RGS literature students who love to write. I stumbled upon the 2009 edition- the very first one we received/ I bought. I thought to mention it because the stories inside are so dejectedly melancholic.

“She thought of the aborted online conversations and ‘sorry, gotta go’ chorus that had increasingly become a staple in her phone vocabulary since she entered secondary school. Yes, it was all the worksheets stuffed into her bag that had formed a shell around her, the long hours she spent at the plethora of extra-curricular activities that she couldn’t really keep track of, and the bitter stretch of years ahead of her stuck in this cannibalistic cycle.” … “Suddenly she was angry. She was angry at the load on her back and the tight pull of her ponytail and the frumpy white school shoes… …Nobody was as alone as her in this bus, on this road, in town.”

“But then he would have no reason to go down to the coffee shop, sip his coffee, and find excuses to strike up a conversation with another singlet wearing, balding, lonely old man with nobody but himself for company.” … “The feeling of hopelessness and loneliness that washed over him threatened to drown his hope and crush his soul simultaneously.” “…the fact that he was a lonely man growing older by the day and lonelier by the year.”

Was melancholy the theme that year? I wonder why RGS students who should have everything they wish (based on a statistical demographic analysis of our students 0-0) will choose to write thus. To view the world thus. To portray themselves – because writing is oftentimes a reflection of you and all your hidden selves – thus. What would compel the authors to pen such stories? What wouldn’t I give to peek into their minds! Were the stories difficult to write, or did they leap into the page of their own accord…? To be fair, some of the stories do end on a brighter, more hopeful note – the girl in the former remembers the joy of phone calls; the old man in the latter gives thanks for each new day. The stories are mostly as whimsical as they are mournful. But that these lines can pour out of us(?) (them?) is interesting, to say the least.

Or perhaps it’s just the typical pensiveness of ensconced teenage girls learning how to make the best of their lives.

Like the post I just wrote. Ahaha metacognition indeed.

Happy Chinese New Year in advance! ;D


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