Today we had the exam in English Literature, which means that I only have one more to go – the one on the tenth – before I’m totally finished with this school. Not much excitement to tell about the exam. I think I did quite well, but won’t know for certain until August. Maybe I will cry at my own wedding, or more likely not. I would prefer it if mum and my then mother-in-law did the crying.
Mark has finally come home to me as he has been over in Wiltshire for a couple of days. He was supposed to stay one night, but ended up staying two because of stuff. No, not between him and me. But between him and his parents. I will be very circumspect in writing about that, because it’s between them. Since it doesn’t involve me, it is super secret.
All I can say is that it’s nice to have him home. I’ve missed him terribly, and trying to read without going down there to comment on something I’ve read, or finding out what he’s shouting about down there, is no substitute.
Mark’s wedding folder has grown about two inches because he brought all that over to his mum to go over it and get advice, and advice he got. His family is quite used to planning for big parties because they insist on gathering the clan at regular intervals – at funerals or weddings or birthdays – and have the logistics of big functions down to an art by now.
I, thus, feel very comfortable in my decision to just leave the main things to him, and just keep myself informed so that we suddenly don’t end up with a big church wedding where we are betrothed ‘before god’ to all and sundry. But Mark knows how I feel about that.
Otherwise the din of drama and teenage angst that has been my lot for the past two years while attending my college has died down, and when one of my year mates told me that she had broken up with her long-term boyfriend because of details, I couldn’t really muster much empathy or sympathy. It feels like I’m detached from this school now.
Is that a strange feeling or what? I am crossing the t’s and dotting the i’s of my experience here, and the attachment to this place is loosening quite a bit. It has grown tenuous and frail. Soon, I think it will have withered to nothing, and it will just be a memory. Like my old school back in Sweden is just a memory. Like the people in that school are just memories; well, except for Maria.
The sad thing is that even Maria and I aren’t really as close as we used to be. That has bothered me. I still feel like I owe her, but we just don’t speak as much, and there is really no reason for our lack of contact except that our interests are now so different. Our immediate agendas, are thousands of miles apart. We run with new people now, and the new people are the ones that are in our thoughts. Then we get together, and it’s like there is a silence between us now. It bothers me, but unlike before, I’m not sure anything can be done about it. Will we be fated to, at age thirty or forty, suddenly remember the face of some long-lost person and struggle to remember a name, even though it feels so important then?
I have one more exam. It will go as well as this one, and the ones before. Then another chapter begins. The university student named Colin; the husband named Colin; the still confused and over-thinking new adult that is Colin.
I have been thinking about this eighteen thing. It seems like there so much ahead, so many options, so many things to do, so many interests to pursue, and so many books to read that I, like in yesterday’s post, can’t seem to choose.