Four-and-Twenty Blackbirds

That's the beauty of a title. It doesn't have to mean anything. Take the one above, for instance. It has nothing whatsoever to do with what I have written so far and what I am going to write in the rest of this post. But still, in the extremely unlikely event of these chronicles surviving for a century or two, some historian may well read into them deep and profound meaning and into the blog a commentary on the metaphysical state of the world at large.

The human mind is kind of strange that way. Right now, for instance, I am sleepy enough that I could write, "Bertie Wooster married Cleopatra and Hitler was their great-grandson" and not realize that anything was amiss. On Wednesday night, on the other hand, no matter how little sleep I have between now and then, I will be all set to sit up watching TV while reading a book and sending SMSes to friends in the intervals of prolonged chats on the cell phone... and all this juggling without dropping a single ball. (If this seems improbable, let me specify that right now refers to an instant of time when I am supposed to be studying Economics, and Wednesday night refers to an instant when I will, for good or ill, be done with ISLM graphs and long-run aggregate supply curves.)

Exam-time resolves are right up there with New Year's Day resolutions as things that aren't meant to last beyond the first week. In college every time I realized that I was eight hours away from my Number Theory paper, not entirely certain which textbook we were following, and in grave danger of being awarded zero marks, I decided that it was positively the last time I would find myself in such straitened circumstances. Every time.

Circumstances apart, it really is rather nice weather now. It's just cold enough to make snuggling into the blankets with a book a whole new kind of nirvana, but not cold enough to make you quiver like an aspen in a strong wind if you happen to forget your sweater in your desperate haste to reach wherever you're supposed to be going before the clock strikes whatever hour it shouldn't strike before you get there.

Is there anything else to say about the blackbirds? Nothing... except, to those who can afford time to enjoy it, Joyeux Noel. 'Tis the season to be jolly... But I daren't sing, even on paper. 'Tis hardly the season to offend the ears of all around. The first day, the partridge in the pear tree. By the time it is joined by the five golden rings I shall be home free.

EEP!

Twenty-Four Hours to Go

I just got back from class. I am tired. I am in no frame of mind to worry about the effect of an increase in US Government spending on the Forex reserves of Guatemala. And I have the entire afternoon, evening and night ahead of me in any case. There's no need to panic and fall over myself memorizing the textbook. I think I'll do the crossword.

Twenty-Two Hours to Go

I have done three sudokus and four crosswords. There's no getting away from it now. I have to open the textbook. Such a nice textbook, too... It seems a pity to spoil it by underlining and writing notes in the margins. But no, it has to be done - Wait a minute. It's time for tea. I can't be expected to study on an empty stomach. It's bad for the kidneys, or the liver, or... whatever. I'm sure it's bad for something. And while I'm at it I might as well shower too, and start afresh.

Twenty-One Hours to Go

Now is the time to get to work. I am warm, full, and refreshed. I am also... sleepy? No. Something wrong there. Time out. I can't be sleepy. I have to study. I have - where's the syllabus sheet? - yeah, I have... er... let me count... Five, is it? No... six... seven... uh-oh. I have a terrifying number of chapters to finish. I can't be sleepy... I can't be...

Twenty Hours to Go

The blankets are so comfortable. Do I need to get up? Damn, there goes the alarm clock. Hit it... It hasn't stopped. Oh, no wonder, it's the cell phone alarm. It won't stop unless I push the right button. I'll have to wake up properly.

Eighteen Hours to Go

Finally I have done something productive! I have finished a grand total of... umm... three and a half pages. Inspiring, really inspiring. But don't worry, it's still not time to panic. It's just eight o'clock. There'll be plenty of time after dinner.

Sixteen Hours to Go

Right. Now it's time to panic. I have done... ah... never mind. And how much do I have left? One, two... flip a whole bunch of pages... OK, never mind that either. Keep calm. Keep absolutely calm. There's only one remedy for a situation like this - candy bars. Call CT and ask for some... [Several expletives deleted.] He doesn't have any. How do I survive the night without chocolate?

Thirteen Hours to Go

I have done four chapters. That's decent. On number five now... I have consumed enough tea to keep the Darjeeling planters laughing all the way to the bank. But it's a losing battle against sleep. No. I must read.

"You will recall from the previous chapter."

I don't recall from the previous chapter. I don't even recall the name of the previous chapter. I am in so much trouble...

Nine Hours to Go

The wretched alarm again. Going on... and on... and making the pillow vibrate. I have to get up. I have to avoid an F. Poke one finger out of the blankets. This is patently not the weather to get up before the crack of dawn and study economics.

Six Hours to Go

Ethical dilemma: Do I go to class and not study Economics and feel guilty, or do I stay in my room, not go to class, not study Economics and feel guilty? On the whole I think I'll go for Option Number One. Not that it's going to make any difference at this late hour.

One Hour to Go

A morning spent surreptitiously leafing through the textbook during classes, and feverishly turning pages between them. Lunch has been aborted. I have to learn all about economic policy formulation in sixty minutes. It doesn't matter how. Somehow. This is when those Matrix-style information downloads would come in handy.

And then... the inevitable!