Earlier this afternoon, I decided the best way to blow off some steam was to focus on my usual routine and collect Narra seeds. I was too angry to discuss the mishap in PE, a mishap that had already been long overdue. At the shaded part of the soccer field where the benches stood, and the Narras loomed over, I shielded my head from the sun's sharp afternoon rays before getting to work.
It feels different when your device is turned off. I can observe and appreciate my surroundings well.
The brown, dried leaves that fell from the trees give off that earthy aroma. Hidden under these leaves, two types of Narra seeds can be found, the smooth Narra (forma indicus) and the prickly Narra (forma echinatus). As my teacher told me, it is best to collect Narra seeds when they are brown and mature. Green Narra seeds can be propagated, but germination is low. Even though she told me it was okay to collect them and wait until they mature. I do my best to avoid them so that they can mature properly.
In addition to dried leaves and Narra seeds, I also found other inquisitive creatures roaming the area. A millipede strolled under the leafy undergrowth. The injured peach cat meowed fervently, looking for food and begging for pats. He, as the ripe ones dangled, had a few teeth intact. The ground was wet from yesterday's downpour. It muddied the worn volleyball after it rolled in a puddle when the schoolgirls struck it high. Heaven bless their examinations. It must have been a tough all-nighter.
At 2 PM, I groaned in boredom. Four of my female groupmates chatted excitedly, sharing controversial story ideas for our school project. The task of assigning roles was long overdue. Weeks had already passed, yet we had only decided on the scriptwriters and no other roles. Their way of finding fault in others truly disgusts me. They blame the ones at the back and sides for not lending an ear when they, in turn, would not share the loaf of information. They claim to have written a draft, but have not made a group chat where they could easily share it with the group. If they already made one, then they must have forgotten me.
An hour had passed since I jotted my thoughts in a notebook. I couldn't recall how many times I sang Daisy Bell under my breath in the corner of the room. The others have done nothing but chat, sleep, or use their devices. As for me, I'm waiting for time to run out. Since I am trying to save battery life, I am forced to make use of the things around me. The gentle arms of sleep cradle me, but I refuse to give in.
It must be nice in the other group. Yes, we are all noisy, but at least they all have roles now. If I have nothing to do, I would greatly appreciate going back to collecting seeds. I would also like to dry them under the windowsill of my cozy room, but I'd have to wait until I get home. I wouldn't want them blown off by a gust of wind from the ceiling fan at school. If I could, I’d count them during class — but I’ve already finished counting and totaling them.
I still have another 30 mins before the subject ends. If I could reach my handout, I would prepare for the next class. It is only four seats away, tucked inside my messy bag. Thankfully, my seatmate read it for me as I scoured my bag looking for it for 10 minutes before the time. In English, I had to take one for the team and explain the significance of the title of the poem called "Running Orders" by Lena Khalaf Tuffaha. I yapped so hard and even made a nice little metaphor about ants in it. For the assignment, I plan to draw the ants and yap about them more.
You must be signed in to post a comment!