A university student's monologue

I sit on an old but comfortable chair, facing the claustrophobic table that is my workplace. I wonder if this is the right thing to do. I have been in the library for more than three hours, doing nothing but studying and revising. I do not think that a human intelligence or competence is measured by the amount of hours he/she invests in academic study. Yet, this is the reality I see before my eyes now...because if I don't do this, chances are that I will not progress through to 3rd year.

Looking at the notes I have made, I am filled with a mixture of exhaustion and insecurity. My fingers are numb from all the writing and calculating. I have never felt confident about myself, nor did I ever say that I am a clever man. 

My successes are based on my work and diligence. That is how my life is dictated. If I do not study, the probability of my failure will increase.

 I was called a failure since I was a little boy. Till today, I am still a boy. Whether I am a failure or nor, that remains to be seen.

note: I never really considered myself a mature man...I have not reached that stage yet.

I notice a piece of paper on the table next to mine. I take it and have a look. It is the front page of what is supposed to be an information booklet for the Police Service of Northern Ireland. 

Guidance for Applicants & Initial Selection Test 

Practice Test

Recruitment of Trainee Police Constable - Patrol/Probationer 

The contents are missing. Police Service of Northern Ireland? I wonder how the life of a police officer in Northern Ireland is.  Michael Asher said that it was the worst mistake of his life, when he joined the RUC (Royal Ulster Constabulary)...the preceding police force before being succeeded by the PSNI. Then again, that was a long time ago.

I am tired. There is chanting and hooting down below (I forgot to tell you that I am on the second floor of the library). Football fans are making their way to the Emirates stadium for a match between Arsenal FC and AZ Alkmaar. The noise becomes more rowdy and wild. Slogans and football club anthems are sung with such boisterous enthusiaism. 

It is time for me to go. I pack my bag, leave the usual comfort study zone, depart from the humble university library which not many students appreciate, and head off to the hostel.

The future will come calling in another 10 hours.

Emotion in Motion

23 ladies and gents are running in fron of me. By Jove, I'm the last of the pack.

Come on. You've jogged four rounds around two football fields in 9 minutes and 34 seconds. Surely this will be a breeze walk to you.

Even the ladies are running ahead of me. Damn.

Can the negative thoughts, and put those leg muscles to use. One two one two...that's it. Don't stomp on the surface. This is the solid road, not the soft grass patch of Tufnell Park playing field.

Those guys in the green coveralls...the other Potential recruits from another Syndicate. They're staring at us lot. They're laughing at us. I sure would like to see them laughing when it is their turn to run.

One big loop around the billets. That should be about 1km.

Keep it up. You're doing fine. Remember your father's advice. Take long deep breaths. Give your lungs time to process the oxygen. Don't huff and puff. That will only exhaust your body.

That girl is slowing down. I've overtaken her. I cannot be complacent. I am still in the run, and the clock is ticking.

That's it. You're doing good. Keep the rhythm. One two three breathe. One two three breathe. 

"When you have reached the gate, touch the gate and run all the way back to the starting point."

You heard the PSI. 

Yes. I will not stop. I'll just quickly touch the gate, then turn and run. I cannot afford to lose the momentum.

That's it! You've reached the halfway mark. Now, unto the final sprint!

Another girl is slowing down. She's walking, not running. She's trying to regain her energy.

Do not follow her example. You have to keep the movement in motion. Now go!

Come on. Be angry with the pain. You hate it. Force your legs to defy it. 

You're too soft to be in the Army, dear friend...

You're a 100% selfish bastard.

What are the chances of you reducing 20 minutes down to 10?

You'll never make it. The Army is for tough fellows like me.

Come on. Those doubters are talking crap. Be angry at their comments. You hate the comments. You want to prove them wrong. Let that anger drive you to go on. Prove them wrong by completing this run...and passing Selection. Shove it into their faces.

Pain. It hurts.

You have my support during the Selection.

Keep going.

I just...have a feeling...that one day that thing will take you away from me.

She...my...

I love you. 

I...made a promise.

There it is. The finish line.

I'm almost there. My legs are going to give in.

Don't! Stay with me. Just a little more. Come on. Remember the slogan on that T-shirt you're wearing? No Fear! Show the PSI and officer cadets that you do not fear any challenges that they throw at you.

My heart is beating dangerously fast.

Hang on for a few minutes. Catch that guy in front of you.

I'll try.

Go on. Go on! Ah, Damnit! So close!

He made a last desperate sprint...I was using the last reserves of my energy.

Nevertheless, you did a very good job. Well done, lad.

I want to hear my time first.

"Number 17, running time was 12 minutes and 41 seconds."

Now are you going to celebrate?

You can say that my emotion is in motion now...

Run

"Good morning, everyone. I am the PSI, otherwise known as Permanent Staff Instructor, of this Camp."

He looks aggressive. I really wouldn't want to incur his anger. I have a nasty suspicion that the two men in wool jumpers behind me are from the Parachute regiment.

"This is the Personal Fitness Test, or PFT. It is where we assess your fitness and determine whether you are fit for the army..." A small grin creeps up the 5'4 man's face. "...or not." 

"Here, you'll do a 1.5 mile run at your personal best time. There is a certain time by which you must complete this run. We are not going to tell you what that time is, because that will only discourage you lot."

The ladies look very fit. I think I'm going to be at the end of the Syndicate.

"Right. Now, if you would go and stay behind the tarmac over there."

A shuffle of trainers and running shoes. 23 men and women stand with tensed up muscles, waiting for the signal.

"Are you ready, Potential Recruits? Remember, 1.5 mile run at your personal best time. Get ready."

Three months of training...and it all boils down to this. Well, here I go.

"GO!"

The left leg springs the whole body forward, and the right foot hits the ground to continue the momentum.

Run.

small

Q: Why do you still stay with him, V?

A: I love him, S.