It all started with — rainy days, trudging about the MRT in jackets and jeans, visiting the lobbies of various hotels. Then the school year started, and was filled with bouncy and rebellious RI boys, some lovable, some not, amazing and pretentious English, backstabbing and bitchy colleagues, singing the RI school song every monday or friday (I can’t remember now), having a happy Chinese New Year, mending broken relationships, getting results back, doing better than expected, calling my mum and dad and hugging Shuki in front of Mr B, how we all had the same results, the Marche dinners, karaoke sessions, and that final dance in the moonlight.
Then began the scholarship applications, the horrendous essays, filling in forms, going for interviews, waiting for universities to reply, most impatiently, dreaming of England and all its glories, arguing with my mother again and again (and again) over whether to stay or go or stay or go, talking about the same old same old thing a thousand times over lunch and dinner, never able to make a decision till that fateful day in which I learnt the truth. And from then on it was pretty obvious. All the while I waitressed, walked up and down the aisles of 70 tables, plugging food and alcohol as if I knew what it was all about, memorising what was in the menu, all the prices, what went into a particular drink, losing (quite happily) a few kg in the process, working long shifts with colleagues, discovering a neighbour in the process!, having a just-ORDed army boy buy me a drink while I was working, sweeping the floors before and after work, clearing the place of leaves.
Then came CAP, with all the memories of writing and school, meeting both old and new people all with a common passion, working tirelessly till the wee hours of the night writing reports and columns and having post-mortems in the ops room in Eusoff Hall, staining the stacks of aCAPpella with my blood from all the papercuts, dealing with a little Hwa Chong incident. then I went to Cecilia’s wedding with “I am an idiot — I rejected King’s” scrawled on my arm (thanks to Brendan) in bright pink marker, took lots of pretty pictures and once again entertained fantasies of the day I’d get to walk down the aisle too, heh.
A few weeks later came Law Camp, which was a blast, meeting new people which marked the beginning of all the interesting scandals, clubbing at MOS for free on a Thursday, bonding with my lovely OG watching the world cup and winning a bet with Joel over the Germany-Argentina match; was very very sad that Germany got kicked out by Italy, going home at 5am after every game, having emo talks with Kenny in PS, watching the finals in my house, Patrick staying over, going to the first day of rag the next day (ohoho), getting roped into doing funny stunts, which then took up the rest of my life, rag camps, having emo talks about life and love till the wee hours of the morning with Dennis and jgan and rz, how we all grew closer in that small window of time, till school started and lessons began, the clubbing, the atas eating places, the bars, the drinking, late night suppers, how the emo talks with rz continued all the way till September (*wink), more clubbing and parties, talking on overhead bridges and at bus stops in the middle of the night, Adam Road, walking down Botanic Gardens, the slow, tentative beginnings.
All the while dealing with the pressures of memos, mid-sem tests, binders, exams, going to school on Sundays and staying till 11 each day, scouring the library and jostling other people for books, sitting at the same table everyday, studying studying studying. Then holidays came, I read more fiction than I ever did in the past three months, had a great Christmas, went to Bangkok, had a lovely New Year, now I’m back, and tomorrow school begins and I’m all ready to tackle a beautiful year.
Like rz says, so lovely (: