T - 64
Ah, today was quite the rollercoaster of emotions. I bid farewell to my dear relatives and cousin this morning, and boy, does time have a way of sneaking up on you. It feels like just yesterday my Mom's brother was the one buying me chocolates and playfully teasing me. Now, a few years down the lane, the tables have turned, and I find myself in a self-service restaurant, of all places.
As I stood there with the tray and the little token, I couldn't help but chuckle at the cosmic irony. There I was, the once-chocolate-munching kid, now tasked with the honorable duty of fetching plates for the entire gang. Oh, how the mighty have fallen!
Sitting there, munching on our meals, my mom's brother started recounting a memory that seemed to be etched into their minds like a sculpture carved by time itself. It was about a trip to Goa, where the sun was scorching but the ice cream was the savior. Apparently, my Mom's ice cream was hailed as the epitome of frozen delight, a creamy masterpiece that could melt anyone's heart. On the other hand, my uncle's choice in ice cream was compared to a science experiment gone awry – a flavor combination so bizarre that it became a family legend.
As the story unfolded, I couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image of my uncle's face contorting into a mix of disgust and confusion after that ill-fated ice cream decision. It's funny how something as simple as an ice cream cone can become a lasting memory that transcends time. But beneath the laughter, there was a twinge of sadness, a realization that those carefree days of sharing ice creams and carelessly enjoying life were now distant echoes in the rearview mirror.
Ah, the winds of change blow strong, don't they? It feels like just yesterday my cousin and I were trading Pokémon cards and arguing about whether Iron Man could actually beat Thor in a fight. But lo and behold, here we are, and my once-obsessed-with-superheroes cousin has transformed into a tech-savvy guru who's more interested in gadgets than Groot.
And the bombshell he dropped about planning to jet off abroad in January? Well, that's like a plot twist no one saw coming. I mean, this is the kid who used to pretend to fly by jumping off the couch with a towel around his neck. Now he's all set to spread his wings in reality. I can't help but be both proud and wistful as I think about his journey ahead. I know he's got the brains to conquer the world, and his laziness – ahem, I mean, his strategic energy conservation – might just be the secret ingredient that propels him to greatness.
I'm genuinely excited to see him shine, to see what incredible feats he'll achieve in this vast, gadget-filled world. Yet, I can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia for those days when we used to argue about whether Hulk could take down Superman. Those moments were simple, like a well-aged cheese – they only got better with time. And now, they're like treasures locked away in the vault of memory.
Well, after the emotional roller coaster of saying goodbye to my relatives, I decided to indulge in a different kind of drama - the last episode of Riverdale. I've been following those crazy kids from the fictional town since my college days, and let me tell you, my Thursday nights were quite the spectacle.
Picture this: me, a broke college student, strutting into the college canteen with the swagger of a seasoned TV addict. I'd grab a pack of noodles - the holy grail of student sustenance - and march back to my room. I'd slip out of my "I'm totally paying attention in class" attire and into my pajamas, ready to embark on a weekly roller coaster of drama, mysteries, and Jughead's iconic narration. It was like a tradition, a ritual, and a secret society all rolled into one – the Ramen Riverdale Resurgence, if you will.
The canteen anna probably thought I had some noodle addiction, but little did he know that my loyalty to those noodles was directly tied to the latest scandals of the Cooper family.
But then, in the blink of an eye, it feels like – I donned my graduation cap, walked the stage, and collected that prized piece of paper that was supposed to make me an adult. Fast forward to today, and I'm on my couch, tissues in hand, bidding farewell to the very show that kept me company through the ups and downs of my collegiate escapades.
And as I sat there watching the final episode, it hit me like a plot twist out of left field. These characters, who I've seen go from high school drama queens to amateur detectives with a penchant for wearing black leather jackets, had grown into these beautiful, albeit fictional, legacies. It was like watching a gang of friends from afar, friends I'd never met but had followed through their ups, downs, and bizarre encounters with cults.
Well, Jughead, may be living in a town where logic takes a vacation, but he has summarized the human experience in one snappy line. It's like he's the Socrates of Riverdale, minus the toga and with a beanie instead.
"You say hello to someone, you walk with them for a while, then you say goodbye. It's the arc of life."
Think about it. We all go through this cycle, don't we? We meet people, sometimes by choice, sometimes by chance. We say hello, we get to know them, and for a while, they become a part of our story. They walk with us through the chapters of our lives, sometimes as heroes, sometimes as villains, and sometimes as those quirky side characters who provide comic relief.
But eventually, there comes a time to say goodbye. It could be a bittersweet farewell or a tearful parting of ways, but it's an inevitable part of the script. People come into our lives, play their roles, and then exit stage left.
As I closed my laptop and surveyed my room, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia. The noodles were gone, my college canteen was miles away, and I was officially a grown-up with grown-up responsibilities (or so they tell me).
If you want to be someone who hits your goals: Skip setting goals and set sacrifices. What are you willing to give up to get what you want? That is the missing piece to winning. Every one of your goals has a price.