Monday, February 18, 2008

I hate being a senior

Am having one of those 'looking-back-at-archives-and-sighing-as-I-reminisce' moments.

Is it really 4 years ago that I stepped into choir room for the first time, and listened to 2005's SYF team sing Shima E and Daemon, and get totally blown away by how cool they sounded? Did 3 years really pass since Shao Jie and I decided to call Andrea our hybrid? And why is it that it felt like only last week that I sat on those round tables in the canteen with Elizabeth and Hazel and Christine and sometimes Nicholas in the morning while I flipped through that green A maths textbook? And found A maths so seemingly interesting and fun? And seriously, am I the only one who misses the piano area and the tiger there and the out-of-tune piano with no ledge for scores, talking about The Bus Stop Of Great Disgust, taking neoprints and drawing stickmen in random sketchbooks?

When you're sec 4, your favourite seniors are all gone and the only help you can get are your teachers and peers. Not to say that it's bad getting help from them, but it feels as if one giant part of your secondary school life decided to merge with the ubiquitous tales of the 60th anniversary celebrations and stories of being bought with 5 pigs into the giant pit of oblivion that is the history of the school.

Like, I wish I could wake up and realize that I'm in lower secondary, when scoring full marks for 60% of class tests is a reality, when it's cool to care about one's L1R5 at such a relatively early age, and when everyone sleeps by 10.45 PM. I look at my sister's school life now and I can't help but, with some sadness, see the ghost of what I used to enjoy.

Not that I'm going to be all sulky and emo. I'm just, you know, remembering seemingly better days.

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