Sometimes it worries me that I’m already past the age where I cling on to memories like a limpet – is it something one grows out of? If so, does this mean that the rest of my (hopefully too long) life will be spent reminiscing the memories of 19-and-a-half years? I mean, I still think about BMT and OCS but definitely not with half as much wistfulness as I do the days spent as a decided mushroom-head in P3, sitting under the desk for standing up to my teacher, the only authority one had access to in those days. Is it right to be this grateful, even to our “formative” years?
Just had one of those proverbial blasts to the past where I, on a whim, googled a teacher of very long ago. More than ten years now (it even marvels me that I can refer to a decade as nothing much more than a fraction of my current lifetime, it seemed unfathomable not long before). Greedy for a passing mention in a blogpost, best of all a Facebook profile which obviously is everything one needs these days. Got an extremely outdated blog.
Yeah being too free made me creepy.