Insight by Abdurrahman https://padlet.com/av_ark/atumn9zrav06 A handful of obligation, a sprinkle of desire. en-us 2018-03-12 17:26:02 UTC 2025-12-24 03:06:56 UTC hello@padlet.com A day In My Life: An Everyday Experience av_ark https://padlet.com/av_ark/atumn9zrav06/wish/241086334 13/3/2018.
 Where do I begin?
 I can't say it's been the greatest day so far. As a matter of fact, it hasn't even been much of a day to begin with. I say 13/3/18, when in reality, I'm borrowing consciousness from an overdue 12/3/18.
 
 Oh, I know where to start; Monday, 12th March, 8:34 P.m. That's when I wake up, that's when my day starts. Is it too ironic that my day begins at night? Or is it that a blog like this is meant to be cheerful? Regardless, I wake up at that time not because of responsibilities raining on my shoulder, but rather literal rain seeping in through the window, painfully dripping on my face. Clearly, I'm the most fit to be a class representative. Before I know it, I shake all metaphors and all reality off my shoulders, strutting my way to the local mamak.
So many familiar faces draw a smile between my cheeks. My housemates - pseudo-siblings at this point- remind me how privileged I am to be surrounded by such lovable idiots. The fake strut falls, and gratitude takes over. As I walk, friends join my journey (towards food). As we wait for our orders, we talk, we laugh, we agitate one another. An hour races by, the second hurrying behind. The third calls an end to our meal, while the fourth drags me to my room.
The fifth is the end of their day, and the revival of mine.

00:34 A.m., 13th March: Responsibilities rack up and I let them. What’s an hour to spend fixing up my music playlists?
01:34 A.m., 13th March: The rack becomes a beast and I let it lurk. What’s an hour to spend on that story I’ve been putting off?
02:34 A.m., 13th March: The beast demands notice. I call it anxiety, and it controls me. The hours I wasted catch up. I boot up my laptop, and I confront the beast.
03:34 A.m., 13th March: I’ve tackled the beast, and so I’ll stop writing this blog. 
 
Who knows how the second half of the “day” goes?
Not me.
That’s just another day in my life.
 
 ]]> 2018-03-12 19:25:53 UTC https://padlet.com/av_ark/atumn9zrav06/wish/241086334 jeremy34 https://padlet.com/av_ark/atumn9zrav06/wish/241160801 Excellent writing. Really good to read.]]> 2018-03-13 00:16:46 UTC https://padlet.com/av_ark/atumn9zrav06/wish/241160801 All the days. av_ark https://padlet.com/av_ark/atumn9zrav06/wish/246695707
Clearly, a day in my life is (no denying) a complete bore, unless we talk about the really good ones. But why would we talk about just one? If I sit down for a chit-chat over tea with someone, I’d rather talk about all the special moments. A little ‘saga’, let’s say. Now wouldn't that be interesting?
Then let’s go with it;

I don’t often tell stories about myself i don’t remember, but this one’s the deal breaker for that. Here’s the story of how a 5 year old me was an absolute psycho- a story my family etched in the hall of shame of things i did:
“2005, Travelling by Sea, Landed in a harbour by a rural area”, those are the keywords to the boring part.  Moving on, to ‘crush’ a long story short, I killed an animal. 
A chick, apparently- I killed a chick. Usually the answer to “WHY” comes before the answer to “HOW” but i find it more intriguing that a tiny me found it appropriate to...step on the poor thing. 
Of course, I was questioned about it.
According to sources (a.k.a my laughing brother), my reasoning was that “I asked the chick to play with me, but it wouldn’t, so”.
Let’s just hope my psychotic tendencies subsided by now.



Perfect. I’ve found a theme: bloody stories in my life.
How about one where I’m the victim? 
Here’s one to everyone with a younger sibling:
“I’M SORRY, I’M REALLY SORRY, YOU’RE FINE, PLEASE DON’T TELL MOM”
Does that ring a bell? I’d often hear that phrase right after i get hurt by my elder brother, for doing ABSOLUTELY nothing. This story goes along those lines. Everything was going fine: playing football in a hallway not wider than my arms, what could go wrong? Until I got the chance for a perfect header (a time where my afro really shines). I’m going in for it, fast, perfect positioning, right before- “AGHHHHH”.  
Let me translate that: “YOU STUCK YOUR WHOLE TOENAIL IN MY EYELID AND NOW IM BLEEDING MY SOUL OUT”
Here’s a life lesson: If you’re playing football with someone who’s three times your height, never go for a header. Your perfect header is their shining footer.
Next thing I remember, my brother rushed me into the bathroom to stop the bleeding (all the while i’m screaming my lungs out). That’s when heads started turning around the corners. Other siblings started poking their heads in with “What happened, what happened?” to which my brother retaliated- totally calm of course- “I SPILLED GRAPE JUICE ON HIS FACE GO AWAY”, and what do you know, they went away. Eldest sibling privilege I tell you.
I must say, i don’t remember going to bed that day. I must have fainted, because the next day I woke up with my mother towering over me, horrified and looking like her face fell off. 
And off to the hospital we went.

Those may not be full days of my life, but it’s the little stories that matter. Perhaps a day in my life is the day I sit down with a cup of coffee and let the nostalgia consume me
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