Time used to be like sushi

You know, it’s really weird how the concept of time has changed for me as I’ve grown up. Back when I was little, like <14, time used to be like sushi. Now, time is experienced as a bowl of noodles.

Back then, each year seemed like such a big deal. At the beginning of each new school year, I remember being excited by getting to write down a new year as a date… “10/01/1999” instead of “10/01/1998”.

I would be so amused when I mistakenly wrote down the wrong years too. Each new year back then meant something concrete would change. New classes, possibly new classmates, new uniforms for seniors, maybe a new school, etc. And there was something to look forward to -I would look forward to being 18, or 21, so that I could finally emphasize with the characters I’d see on tv at last! Back then, every new year was a fresh and nicely segmented portion of my life.

And now, each year is a bit of a blur. My past 4 years at Dartmouth were like a bowl of noodles – you don’t eat noodles strand by strand… you shovel them in your mouth, and each bite tastes the same.

In college, we lived in our own little sheltered cocoon, and each year seemed just like the rest. I’m sure part of that is because the school year in the US doesn’t follow the calendar year. Unlike Singapore, it doesn’t start in January, and end in December. But a greater part of the reason is the lack of change. Dartmouth doesn’t change. Even the people don’t – faces maybe, but not the people:

Freshmen will always be clueless about social conventions, and would be easily excited by the prospect of drinking. The girls would also be typically “easy”.

Sophomores will still rave about how awesome Dartmouth is. They’re more than glad to reach out to incoming freshmen, and teach them the ropes, because hey, now they’re no longer the clueless ones. Most are beginning to find themselves, though they mostly still stay quiet in classes, choosing instead to listen in awe to the confident and knowledgeable upperclassmen during discussions.

Juniors wear fresh frowns above their brows, their sudden realisation that the real world looms just around the corner shattering their formely happily oblivious dream. Most attend an interview for the first time in their life.

Seniors: Most will have found out that they are not going to end up at their dream company. These disillusioned ones either rediscover their freshman-year enthusiasm for their studies (“It’s not just about having an unforgettable experience – GPA does matter after all!”), or simply give up and choose to kick back to have the “good life”. One uniting factor however – they all cling desperately to the last few years of worry-free freedom. Like that girl who looks hot from the back, independence grows increasingly less appealing as you approach; as you tap its shoulder and it turns around to face you, you suddenly wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into. She’s not hot, but it’s too late now.

Well, at least in Dartmouth there was still that clear demarcation between Freshmen, Sophomores, Juniors, and Seniors, even though these differences no longer corresponded to discrete years.

Now it threatens to be worse. I’m afraid that 5 years later, will still feel like right now. I still don’t feel 23. You know, I’m still constantly surprised by the fact that I’m already older than 21, even. I expected to feel different, but I don’t yet.

Maybe it’s just because I haven’t really started the new “working life” yet.
I hope so, for my sake.