Finish line

“Congratulations! You are an engineer!” Would you please repeat that, I said. “Congr….” No, no, not that. The other part. “You are an engineer” Again, please. “You are an engineer” Sigh. And sigh again.

I had once hoped I could finish engineering in two years. I still maintain that anyone interested in doing so can finish off Meta in one and a half years. Oh, the first year consists of common subjects. All that I have learned in the three departmental years can be reduced to a single diagram and maybe another couple of courses. Or, as I like to put it, a single Mech. course. Then we could all have been Mech engineers and had more jobs open for us. Too late now.

The last two days have been some of the most frustrating in our lives. A Marcellus Wallace look alike, sans his soul , was intent on concentrating all the evil in him onto us. The simple routine of a viva was clumsily executed, maybe not without intent, making me wish to throw something heavy and expensive at a big, black, smooth, completely detestable surface. There were other factors, but let us just say that we managed to get through it all, or I am sure you will hear an all too familiar story of incompetence, bitching and general depression. Sounds familiar? Check out the Canine’s link on this page.

What now? Awkward hugs and lame, cool guy handshakes apart, I do feel there is a sense of separation floating about. It is all very well to say that we need to make every moment count, but that’s kind of hard if you are flitting between the corners of the institute. The exodus is yet to begin, but the mood has certainly set in. Lefty wants to be the person who sees everyone off, then takes a moment to look around the place where we spent the last four years, then say, oh, what the hell, this place has no KFC, before he takes off. I can’t afford that luxury. Going abroad takes a lot of work. I have honestly never wished more for a world sans borders. No time for any sentimentality as far as I am concerned.

For now, though, there isn’t much to write. Maybe next week. Maybe next year. Living in the moment, I just realized, damn, I may have come in real late, but I sure finished the race. On to the semis, then.