I am beginning to hate hall.

I hate the implicit politics, the power struggles, the backstage manoeuvring that ensures the posts go to the chosen candidates even before elections or interviews are over. The elections are a formality, and the auditions are a farce because they already know who they want, and the rest of you are merely ‘living scenery’ in their documentation of hall life. They are remaking hall in their own image, and while they cannot eliminate you, they can neutralise you.

Screw the mentality of being Eusoffian. I was once a proud Eusoffian. I stepped up, I volunteered, I was willing to devote myself to the ideal of a hall. No more. I’ve come to a stark realisation.

It just isn’t worth it. Hall is nothing but a place to sleep, eat and shower. My time in hall will be fun, but ultimately non-essential and inconsequential. Who cares that I was in so-and-so committee during my university days? Who cares that we won IHG or that we took home the Shield 4 years in a row? Once you step out of its confines, you realise that hall is useless. And hence I shall not devote more time to it than the minimum required to retain my room.

I don’t deny that there are activities I care about. I do enjoy my Tuesdays at the Salvation Army. I do like going for bashes. But these are not unique to hall life. I could partake of these experiences outside. Ultimately, hall has nothing to offer my soul.

It would be so easy to say it has failed me, but this collection of red brick and cement promised me nothing more than a bed and a shower. It was not Eusoff, but the Eusoffians who failed me. I, too, have failed them. Because they see no value in me, and I see no point in conforming to their pattern.

The detachment is starting to creep in. No longer do I feel a part of Eusoff, rather I feel like an anthropologist tasked with the naturalistic observation of that peculiar breed of students. Screw them, from now on I’m doing what I, and I alone, see fit to do.

The moniker I gave them has come horribly true.

Continue reading →

F87k. Can I just say that? F87k F87k F87k.

Because that’s what I muttered when I saw the results of the interview I attended. If you will recall, I applied for the post of Programme Vice-Head in the DnD comm. Well, I didn’t get it. Bummer.

Even more bummer: I lost out to a freshman. Baaaah. This bites. This super sucks big time. Now, I have nothing against freshmen, or that particular freshman, but I thought perhaps experience might count for a bit. But apparently the new Head prizes passion and enthusiasm over experience, otherwise why would she have chosen a freshman? Unless of course he was in Student Council and had organised his JC’s graduation prom or something like that.

It bites because this was the post I really wanted, and I thought that my ideas were pretty interesting. I mean, I’ve been ruminating over them all vacation long… it hurts when the effort you put into something isn’t recognised.

If only I had known that my competition wasn’t last year’s seniors but this year’s freshmen. Gaaah.

I just hope that this is one little twist in God’s giant plan for me. I know it sounds like a sore-loserish consolation, but perhaps God in His infinite wisdom has chosen to lead me down a different path from the one I would have chosen for myself. All I have to do is trust in Him and open my eyes to opportunities I may not have considered previously.

I’m crushed, but I’m not bitter. It just wasn’t meant to be mine, and the next best thing to do is suck it up and continue to devote myself to DnD, because no matter what, it is a committee close to my heart. If I were more spiteful, I’d refuse to join DnD as a sign of protest, but that would be immature and would only cost me hall points in the long run. One has to, as the Chinese say, “tai hoi dit” or “look from a distance”… meaning not to be so uptight. Wait wait I input the Chinese characters… 看开一点．

So, suck it up, and on with life. Sigh.

Yes, go away now before you are offended and your ire is wakened. Shoo! Off with you. Go read something nice and heartwarming from some Chicken Soup-ish blog. Mine isn’t Chicken Soup. Mine is Sourest Milk.

Right. Well, I went for the DP acting auditions just now. These must be differentiated from the Drama auditions, which are for an entirely different group. Anyway. That one kinda sucked. I mean, I did quite well, I’m sure. I was the first to audition anyway, so I don’t know how any others did, but Liz, the director (and former neighbour and Drama Vice-Head) said I was quite good, so that was encouraging. The role I picked was so me. It was Cher’s monologue, from Clueless. Brilliant movie (oh come on, it was) and it was so Valley Girl and slightly bimbotic, so it just called out to me. No other role felt right.

We were told to go over the top, when in doubt, but I think I was under the radar. It certainly didn’t feel like I was overacting, and I stumbled over some lines. I didn’t like the way my voice sounded, it was too low to carry off the bimbo effect, and also I don’t think I projected enough. Bah. Then the other director did a reading with me, of the role of Anna Wintour from Notting Hill, you know, Julia Roberts’ character. Definitely could have been better, but it was off the cuff and I didn’t really have time to think through the character.

I’m sooooo hoping they’ll call me back, duh, but if they don’t, I’ll just weasel my way onto the Tech Crew and hang with the boys. Always have a backup plan.

And now for the real bitching. Sorry, but I like to give some background, yeah? So after our acting auditions, a friend and I went down to the dance studio to watch the auditions for the dancing cast. Like duh, it is a Dance Production. So we watched. My buddy spotted a few good ones, while I preferred to pick out some ppl and judge them, despite not being a dancer myself. Hahaha.

One of those I saw was a freshman, let’s call her Floppy. Cos that’s what she is. Looks like she needs a backbone, she looks so damn fragile. She can’t stand straight, or rather she doesn’t give the impression that she is. The phrase ‘shrinking violet’ never suited anyone better. She’s such a huge contrast from her sister, who is outgoing and outspoken and definitely not fragile. I don’t know why, but Floppy just puts me off. Perhaps it’s because I expected her to be like her sister and she’s not, but it’s also the general vibe I get from her, that she’s, like, not really present in the world. Ethereal. Yeah that’s the word I wanted. I want to slap some life into her, but it’s as though she wants to leave as little impact on the physical world as possible. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard her voice.

I don’t know WHY it annoys me, but it does. She has every right to be ethereal, and shit has every right to stink, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it, yeah?

Oh, and the real meat of this post: She can’t dance. Again, unlike her sister, who was a dancer for 3 years. Ok, so it’s horrible of me to say that, which means that you should have left after the first paragraph. Your problem. And there was another one auditioning who was even worse. I hope she wasn’t seriously trying out, because she honestly was quite terrible. Her dancing was half-hearted, when others jumped, she just lurched forward slightly. And when others moved their whole arms, she weakly swung her forearms in a pathetic imitation. Don’t even audition if you’re not going to try your best. That was what annoyed me about that girl.

Thank goodness there were some good ones there, or DP would be doomed this year.

… means you have to watch out that dangly bits don’t get caught in machinery.

Ouch.

Yes, but it’s good to be alive, you know. It’s even better if you’re a tertiary student with barely 4 hours of school each day, and lots of comfortable slacking time and freedom to do pretty much whatever you want. Yup, my life is good. And because the quality of life in general is a fickle thing that could nosedive tomorrow, celebrate today while it’s still good.

While hangin out my laundry, I sniffed the sea breeze. We live maybe 1000 metres from the sea, as the crow flies. I can see the sea from the top floors of school, so it can’t be so very far, can it? The problem with the sea breeze is that, by the time I get round to sniffing it, it’s already been through the ports, where the trailer lorries spew diesel fumes, to the construction site, possibly bringing with it cement dust, and finally through the housing estate (where thankfully dogs are not too common, or I’d be smelling poo-poo on the air). It’s not firsthand, you know? But one gets what one pays for. In my case, a $60-a-week room with a view. At least the wind is good for drying laundry.

And when I was going up the stairs, I came face to face with a squirrel. I think I know this squirrel quite well, it must be the one living in the tree outside my window. I’d never been so close to a squirrel before, and I took in its rusty-red colouring and perfect tail before it zipped off. No, I wasn’t foolish enough to try and catch it for a pet. I don’t want to be the next Veruca Salt. Besides, if those teeth can crack a nut, they can jolly well give you a nasty gash on your finger. No sucker I.

Drama auditions tonight for roles in the Dance Production, failing which I will devote myself to being a Tech Crewmember (and possibly the only girl on the team). No biggie, I’ll accept whatever comes my way. Go with the flow, sweetie. Go with the flow.

And something stupid and inane from the land of “been together too long”:
Me: Dog.
BF: Woof.
Me: Cat.
BF: Meow.
Me: Turtle.
BF: “Surf’s up, dude!”

I just went for the interview for the post of Dinner and Dance Programme Vice-Head. The Head (that is, the head of the whole Dinner and Dance committee) asked me why I didn’t just apply straight for the post of Programme Head.

Well, the truth is… I was hedging my bets. I was upfront with her about that. I didn’t know who else was running, and I didn’t want to set myself up for disappointment. Also, I didn’t want the slightly awkward position of being defeated for the post by someone else and then having to work with them. I figured no one wants to be just the vice-head, everyone aims for the top.

So when she asked, “If you were to be offered the post of Programme Head, would you take it?” I was inwardly rejoicing. Hehehe, yes, offer it to me! I’ll accept on the spot!

But no, I had to go and sabotage myself. I went on and on about how I’d see who the vice-head was first, because I didn’t want any hard feelings, etc etc. Gaaahhhh! What is my problem! Why didn’t I just say yes? Screw their hard feelings, I want to be head, and if it’s offered to me I’ll grab it with both hands.

Me dumb.

Because, if they make me head, I get to choose my team. I can choose everyone, from vice-head to pageant coordinator to ordinary members. I like that kind of autonomy. I fancy myself a pretty good judge of people, especially when it comes to working with them, and hence being able to build my own team to suit my tastes and everyone else’s preferences is very important to me. I don’t want any attitude divas or lazy slackers on my team, but on the other hand I’ve been talent-spotting and I’d like to convince certain people to join me.

I want to be head now, and I’m just mentally kicking myself for not being more aggressive and forthright. I should have pre-empted any possible competitors by putting forward my best foot, instead of trying to be the nice one, keeping the peace and taking the back seat. I’m just worried that the Head will think I don’t really want to be Programme head… which would make me very very sad.

I just hope I impressed her so much with my sincerity and ideas that she’ll see me as a worthy successor (she was Programme Head last year). Please please please let it be so.
Otherwise I’ll cry into my pillow at night, and be a lousy Vice-Head. Serves my stupid ass right.