Constructive Criticism anyone??? No profanity Please
And the clock keeps ticking
Sometimes I think my antiquated alarm clock is a lonesome widower who finds pleasure in ruining my morning sleep. A sleep which is often associated with a fancy dream, or a freakish nightmare. As lonely and senile the clock looks on the outside, its ring, amazingly, is quite a paradox and would wake a snoring lion up from a mile away. Provided, of course, the lion is not a hearing impaired one. After I silence the alarm clock, I rush to the kitchen for my breakfast. My roommate usually gets up earlier than I do, so if I am lucky I will find the leftovers and would devour it. If not, I fuss for a while, drink a glass of orange juice and leave to work. Luckily, today I get to eat.
I have come a long way to become what I am today. I am the proud owner of a black ’98 Accord, a PS2 console with at least 7 greatest hit games, a surround sound system from Bose and couple thousand dollars in the bank. Quite undeniably, life has treated me real good for the past few years. Coming from a family whose only source of income is my father’s government job at Kathmandu, what more could I ask for. When I came to the United States in the fall of 2000, I had a dream to become an Electronic Engineer. I can proudly say that I am almost there. Well sort of. With 110 credit hours under my belt, I am slated to graduate in Fall 2007. I am extremely happy about my accomplishments. Some people, however, never seem to be able to appreciate other’s success. They think that my performance in school is full of mediocrity. Less do they know, the Grade Point Average of 2.9/4.0 looks flawless for the amount of partying I did all these years. Who are they kidding..? I mean who does not have a couple of D’s and a few more F’s plus a few withdrawals on their transcript. Fine, I had a change of major, and now I will graduate with a degree in Social Sciences as opposed to Electronic Engineering, but how different are they anyways? I will serve the society will full sincerity and commitment, and I know it.
I feel some kind of connection to this wall clock at my work. It has been there since the day I was hired and it has never failed to tick with the same precision ever since. It adjusts itself during the daylight saving changes. It is an atomic clock, and I think it is awesome except for the fact that I do not understand why it had to be there to begin with. I love my job. I sit behind bulletproof windows and wait for people to come and ask me to charge them for the amount of gas they want to pour in their cars. What makes my job even more interesting is my boss. He is the most magnanimous person I have ever seen. I mean, who gives their employees a paid weekend off every three months, and if that’s not enough who gives them a raise every year?
I have always thought that I have been an exceptional employee too. I have never left work in the entire four and a half years that I have worked here. I still remember that time when I could not make it to the school because of influenza. I went to the doctor and then showed up right to work. Oh boy, was my boss delighted to see me. He had to leave because his daughter was sick (you know how kids catch flu, right?), and no one else was available to replace me so he was exulted. My work ethic has always been up to par.
Come to think about it, I have spent almost five years following the same schedule. I party less these days because most of my friends have either left because they got jobs at bigger places or they graduated. The idea of moving, however, never occurred to me. Why should it? I have always had a job at the gas station, a couple dollars to spare and all the fun I can have was right in this town. I mean I know all the clubs; even the bouncers don’t bother checking my ID at some of these clubs. I sometimes congratulate myself for being the number one party animal in the entire city. What more could one possibly ask for?
Attending classes has also been a part of my schedule for so many years. The only time I miss classes is when I’m hung over from the previous night, or when I have to cover for my boss at work. You know how it is, maybe a couple times a month, maybe a little more. Who knows? Besides, I have to work to pay my tuition, so I better keep my boss happy, right?
There is something very peculiar about my college, there is a big ol’ clock tower in the middle of campus. One can say it is unattractively colossal, compared to any other clock tower one has ever seen. I have been looking at this clock tower since the day I joined college. The rationale of putting up such a huge clock tower in the middle of a University never really seemed right to me. The donor must have been very keen about donating the money to build this tower I guess. I am surprised nobody found the idea to be hysterical at the time of its inception. Anyway, I had always successfully avoided the clock tower by walking around it. As usual, I followed suit. The fact that the tower was not something that would impose authority on me anytime soon made it easier for me to ignore the presence of that clock and the edifice that it stood on.
Classes, as usual, are fun. I sit through them patiently, waiting for them to be over. As nice of a person that I am, I would never walk out on a teacher, not even on my worst day. The class that has enticed me the most so far, however, is the rock climbing class. It is a one credit hour class but it is fun. Who knows when I’ll have to impress an audience with my rock climbing skills, plus it is good to have a hobby, right?
The after school drive home is often tedious, so I entertain myself with some of my favorite oldies. You know, Narayan Gopal, Tina Turner, Jimi Hendrix, The Doors and who would not enjoy listening to Elvis. I sometimes wonder why my parents worry about me so much. Think about it, they are the ones who are spending their days in an impoverished, no good, third world country, why should they worry about me? Well I guess, some things were never meant to make sense. I wonder how they could even ask me to come back there and help develop the “nation.†It just makes me sick how our people always have to be so anal about giving back to the country. Heck, why should I even bother about the place which never gave anything to me, other than a label of being a Nepali. I would not. I am happy to be an American. Well soon to be American. I am not being racist when I say I hate this skill-less immigrant population, which keeps filing forms to be naturalized, always causing eligible people like myself to suffer.
Well, I will be fine after a few beers. Corona, sometimes Heineken, have been my stress reliever and have done their job with utter perfection for years. I never get drunk, not 5, not 6, not 7 bottles. Nothing touches me. I drink so much, yet I always stay in control. I can safely say that I drink the most at any given party, yet I drive people home. SAFETY is my motto. I could never let a drunken friend crash into some tree. I never speed, never cross stop lights. Well I have in the past but what the heck. I drive safe and most of the time I know what I am doing and that’s what should matter.
My alarm clock still sits there, staring at me, ticking, like any other clock, failing to make sense. It keeps ticking, but I am neither concerned about the ticking nor the time. I am making something out of myself and I am happy about it. I know they are jealous. That they envy me with my happiness and my future, but they will never be me. As a matter of fact, and they can never be me. The alcohol in my body is slowly starting to kick in. I guess I will succumb to the sleep today, and tomorrow, the stupid alarm will go off again.
