It was already past three in the afternoon while I was jotting down the last paragraph consisting of roughly six sentences that wrapped up my answer on one of the questions in the comprehensive examination I have been preparing for since the recent week. I wanted to make a curse of discomfort as I tried to rest my hand for a while before finally passing the “pink booklet”. But all I could mutter were silent prayers of thanksgiving for making me get through the day’s tough and rigid situation.
For the past seven hours, it was as if my hands were talking to me to stop writing. I could hardly clench a fist. I remembered someone telling me not to crack my knuckles lest they would break. My penmanship was getting shaky; eyes – teary; neck – stiff; concentration – deteriorating; water bottle – empty. It doubled the pressure seeing most of my classmates pass their last booklet while I was in the middle of assessing whether to answer question number 10 or number 3. I had to employ the “eenie-meenie-miney-mo” selection procedure to get me to a decision. I answered number three. I didn’t want to get to the same error of not trusting my intuition during the first subject.
The exam was nerve wrecking. Despite that, I still wanted to write more. But while my head is teeming with so much eagerness to add a few sentences more, my hand was already complaining. I also could not take advantage of my left hand to do the writing. There was no other way. I had no choice. I had to give my hand the privilege of rest.
The exam was nerve wrecking. Despite that, I still wanted to write more. |
“Had we been using computers in this exam, the task would have been done in no time”, I said to myself. I am no longer used to long hand writing – and imagine for almost eight hours. No joke. Sir Boy, my classmate from HDMF was sharing the same sentiment.
At the end of the day, all we could do was to look forward for tomorrow. Four down. Two more to go.
Post script:
It's the same hand that complained that typed this blog post. : )
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