Strict Daily Plan : nostalgia #2

I always thought of my maths teacher as an expressionless woman with an awful sex life. I even pictured her talking in cosines to her husband.


​#strict_daily_plan 😆


This little thing reminds me of the blue colored walls of my room, the least noticed among which was the one that had trigonometric formulas on. Well, I wanted to learn some formulas but I really had no enthusiasm for undergoing the learning process, so I asked this semi genius friend of mine if he could help me out.

“Oh it’s so simple! “He said, “Write them down in a paper and stick them to your wall. ”

“Really? That’s it!? “I said, quite amazed. 

“Yeah. “He said. 

It was the day I wrote all the formulas on that super white sheet and stuck it on the back wall. You have to stick it on the front wall, he clarified four months later. Obviously! 

On the side wall, I had this strict daily plan I’d drawn after some in-depth graphical analysis of my own supply capacity and the demand by the subjects. I also drew distinct emojis after each subject as I’d heard visual representations help you to focus. In fact, I was so deeply influenced by this theory that I started drawing during maths classes just so that I could understand a little bit of integration. It is other thing that two months later I was drawing naked girls – yeah, that was me but I swear their oversized breasts wasn’t my creation – on the desk the entire period, and I got to say this, my knowledge of the areas under curves actually got better! 

Anyway, the reason I put up the plan was that my father has always asked me to make a routine. Sometimes, I’d want to have a conversation with him or maybe just ask him about constellations, and I’d go to him and look at him, and he’d say, gazing deep into my eyes,

“You know what, son, you should make a routine. ” 

I actually used to make them in the beginning, but I stopped after chucking away the 146th routine in my life. But then, I read Business Studies and got dumped by a Facebook friend who turned out to be my junior, and then I realized my father was right. Maybe the purpose of life is to get a routine, after all!

This plan started with 2 problems of accountancy each day. I loathed accountancy like I’ve never loathed anyone, not even the bully at the primary school who rubbed dirt onto my glossy shoes almost everyday just for the fun of it. At the end of the session, and almost 150 days, I’d solved a total of 3 and a half questions. 

Number two was Eco, and Lord Evans and I had studied Economics for exactly 16 hours the whole year. And that’s the aggregate figure. 

Number three. BST. Two days before the exam. I even made notes with glitters and all. And yeah, there were lots of drawings, which mostly consisted of stick-figures standing together for no particular reason. 

And Maths. I can’t even word my hatred for Maths. I hated maths so much that I always thought of my maths teacher as an expressionless woman with an awful sex life. I even pictured her talking in cosines to her husband. The emoji’s perfect though. And 20 problems! God! Was I insane or what!?

And who the hell drew that goblin face by the VVS sign!? It was either the great RP, or Heroine

And micro was all about paying attention in the class, because the teacher was a no-nonsense man. He loved molesting students. Figuratively. 

I remember looking at this piece of card everyday and procrastinating all my responsibilities for some day. My father certainly wouldn’t have been happy about it, but I believe that human life wasn’t supposed to be tamed by a set of instructions supported by hieroglyphics, I believe we were born to rebel against the routine, we were born to stall and fuck up, we were born to be unpredictable and messed up.

“How many routines did you chart out when you were a kid? “I asked my father the other day.

“I didn’t. “He said, “I was smart. Gold medalist, remember? “

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