Every new year reminds me of how bad I am remembering names, and remembering in general. I don’t know how I’m capable of forgetting someone’s name two sentences after I’ve asked it. ‘You’ is my best friend. And you, nameless friend, are a friend now, just as soon as I’ve got your name down.
On the flip side, I do hide behind the curtains of “you probably can’t remember my name either”. I don’t blame you. I also don’t help by prefixing my introduction with “uuuuh,” like I had to think of what my own name is. It’s really befuddling. I’d had a period last year where people would walk up to me (“hey you!”) and I wouldn’t remember at all having spoken to them, though they would. I guess sometimes when you don’t know someone, you’re just too busy focusing on what you could say next so that they don’t look away and you can really have a shot at making a friend.
(Of course, this is before you forget their name for the third time).
Anyway, we’re all probably bad at this. It’s just that time of the year. By December, we’ll all be used to weird names and will probably have invented a few of our own. In certain areas, I am still, in fact, known as the monocle-wearing, fedora-tipping, moustache-twirling English undercover columnist called James.
To be honest, I’m probably more of a panel number two. Who wants to deal with real people anyway, right?
Wait, you’re telling me they exist and I’m hurting their feelings? What?
Anyway, there are probably even more stereotypes, but I only get so many square inches of napkin.
You ever sit around wondering how on earth could anyone be enthusiastic about something as dull as a “reunion” with people you mostly don’t know? Or rather, people who ask you if you remember them but you could swear you’ve never met them in your life—but of course you remember them don’t you? You met when you were two years old!
Well, call me a silver-liner, but here’s what I just realised: reunions, or any gathering with a lot of people, are happy hunting grounds for material. So much material. And so here’s the outcome: new material!
What other stereotypes have you seen at gatherings? (Yes, you’ve been to one and had to stay for five hours, don’t hide it. And you observed too. You were too bored, so spill.) Did you run into my characters? And were you the life of the party, or me?
You were expecting comics, weren’t you? I have many, but I call this a social experiment.
Isn’t the very essence of a comic but the excitement, the suspense, the thrill by the time you reach the last panel?
Well, just a drawing can sort of do that, only it’s sort of only one panel and no words.
But I’m not making excuses to show off my pretty dragon.
Would you agree that there’s action writ large over this one panelled, unintentionally worded but actually wordless comic, with the dragon’s paw (paw?) raised, poised to make a big move, those wings, ready to expand and fly, the fire already escaping those ready nostrils, those eyes, looking right at you?
Don’t you think there’s drama in here, leaving you wondering, “what next?!” Isn’t there suspense in the fact that you’ll never know what happens next because there is no second panel??
Isn’t there extreme thrill in seeing that I can finally draw a dragon properly??
… oh, hi mum.
Anyway, you got a few panels less than you’d bargained for. I hope a pretty dragon makes up for that.
I mean approaching, formally. Like the absolute value of the difference between my math final and I, is getting really small and fast. And thank goodness for that absolute value, because this distance would’ve been negative without a doubt otherwise.
Also, mathematicians must hate physicists. And computer science first years too, probably.
(Published via a phone nearly dead from uploading assignment scans at 12:20 AM as your blogger hauls ass back home nearly out of breath from a submission made at 23:59:58 (probably) for a submission due before midnight.)
After days and weeks of thinking, I finally have the idea I was searching for!
Since I live on residence and flew with weight constrains, I hadn’t packed for Halloween at all. No fancy costumes, no elaborate art and craft material, and an ass too lazy to go off campus do not auger well for my trick or treating prospects.
Yes, I’m in college and I’m ready to trick or treat. I also have a math problem set due the next day, does that sound familiar now?
So I’ve decided to do the best I can.
I’m going to wrap my comforter around myself, not brush my hair, and go knocking down doors.
I’m going to be your bad hair day.
I’m going to be that day you can’t leave bed.
I’m going to be your lack of motivation, your depression, you crushed hopes and dreams.