Spitball

Week Two of Oct:

The hours of sleep I got were approximately...

Mon Tues Wed Thurs Fri
2 3 4 5 4

...with Monday being the worst. All this was mostly on account of completing Lit analyses; but recall, I was also dealing with the hassle of ironing out details for D-day (Fri). Checking my inbox with unerring regularity, making frantic phone calls, hounding Fly Fm for their Myvi Troopers... Oh, and not to forget, practice for singing or dancing every single day. Sneaking lunch into class just so the lunch hour could be spent finishing the dance choreography.



And then came D-day itself.
The whirlwind began the moment class ended. We had to set up our food stall (I'd made brownies the night before and Carmen, egg sandwiches), as well as our T-shirt sales stand. I became Performance Director for the day and was practically running around everywhere.

The Troopers' Myvi broke down. Another performer's car had already beaten the Troopers to it the day before. My performances (backup singing for a rapper, and a dance routine) were the opening acts and it felt crazy hectic - but manageable.

Looking back after, I wondered how it looked like from an outsider's point of view. Was it an event in shambles? Or passable? Or better than both of those?

I know some performances were just sheer pleasure for spectators; the deafening-cheer-inducing dance battle, professional Latin dancers who had conquered in competition, a light-footed contemporary spin on Lady Gaga's Paparazzi, sharply executed routines from the Subang campus boys - later at dinner I discovered they'd only choreographed and practised it the night before! All in all, I would consider the event a success in parts. Worth falling sick for.




Week Three of Oct:

Aye, as a result of excessive loss of sleep and such, I fell ill with a cough on Sunday night and 'til now, have gone through the motions of experiencing fever, sore throat and a runny nose. After all those days obsessing over the earthly details of one event, I now felt removed from the world.

I didn't bother to dress up; was as animated as my outfits were all week. Plain. Never have I gone to college in the commonplace pants-and-shirt getup so dang repeatedly. But I dress according to what I'm feeling inside. And I felt bland, lacking in spirit and vigour, indifferent to the specifics for which I usually display concern.

By Wednesday (the worst), people were telling me how my face had "changed colour".
One lecturer even referred to me as a "walking spirit". I wasn't sure what that meant, 'cause as far as I knew, my face was wont to remain one shade whilst others' might be flushed or pale, depending on the circumstance.

I just want to get well; tired of feeling listless and falling asleep without brushing my teeth or changing out of my day clothes, sleeping 'til the morn.

"Just an hour... then I'll start my work..." doesn't work.

But over 2 nights, I'd accumulated a glorious 20 hours of sleep, and I never once felt like dozing in class subsequently! Been long since I last had that kind of focus in class.