Story 1: someone meant to be

Husband...is there anyone out there?? Or sometimes I say it silently “someone meant to be…” Since my brain escaped from the ghosts of logics bundled in the piles of books to be a pride for the professors as SCIENCE, it is, then, always haunted by the questions about someone to be in my lifetime.
The academic carreer I take is quite successful, at least in my parent’s view. They always tell about me in such a pride—rather boasting even—that I was so smart. The proudful words still flow to give a good model for the kids around the neighborhood, or for the young in our extended family. The pride goes up to its peak, as my granny starts her fairy tale of the family.
Another confession is from almost a half of my classmates who frequently should compete each other to take my name as one of the group members to submit a term paper. I just smiled and nodded to the first giving me a code. It’s like the quick and the dead. The quick will be free, and the other should work hard and worry about the result. Yup! It is actually just a mental disorder maintained by our people in general. The inferiority and the fear of hard work.
The code was usually sent with so pity look to ensure that they can go easily and gain the best. These evidences have convinced sufficiently to say who I am. It is a really beautiful memory to go with.To answer their hope, I usually spent my two days alone with the books. Some I just scanned and quoted in private chamber in the library. At least, three hours in two days, I took notes of the theory and the statements of the authors in their books. Other I previewed as a notebook was ready to record the combination of other’s opinion and my own private interpretation and factual samples and experiences. And Done! I made a copy of my draft and reported to the finishing commission after I explained in detail about what I wanted to say in the paper.