Friday, October 15, 2004

79 days: If it makes you happy, it can't be that bad.

Chronicle offstone/production night is something which people either speak about with the fear that you get when you're unfamiliar with a subject, or with tragically resigned resignition.

This will probably be my very last one, I haven't had many I suppose, compared to some others in the team.

But this is something you never get used to. Every production night is different. Some are better than others, some makes you wish you never joined chron. Some have you and your friends dancing to music streaming in one of the many Apple computers. Others have you slouched over the table, head throbbing, while you wished they would just stop playing those damn chinese love songs.

Tonight is a different night. My head is throbbing, it hurts like hell, but I don't feel it. There's no Swee to dance with me, no Ah Teo to do the Chinaman song, no rendition of Eminem's rap, no ice-cold Ribena sitting in the fridge. No Gillian crouched in front of the screen, plugged into her own world, Sampronas by her side. No promise of a McDonald's breakfast when dawn breaks.

When I think about it like this, I look around the room and I realise that this is an entirely new room from what I first saw when I had my first all-nighter in this room that blows hot and cold, that can break even the most happy of moods.

This is a different team, we are so different from the previous one, and I believe the one after this will do no different.

I don't quite know where I'm heading with this, but as it is when a phase of your life comes to a close, you sit back and take a good long look.

Remember Dot's face when she comes in Fridays, smelling and looking all clean and fresh and we stare at her with our grubby faces and look for some guidance. Remember the stories that got spiked, and the ones that didn't.

Remember watching American Idol, and then the Singaporean version, irritating the whole room (maybe just alvin haha) but still glued to it anyway.

Remember PH's volatility, who made all of us learn a lesson in protocol: Yes, even in school you cannot escape bureacracy. Remember the stand-offs, the cold wars, the spiteful words, the hurtful comments, the unintended sarcasm, the pats-on-the-backs, the many many packets of duck rice and cans of Carlsberg Special Brew.

Remember all the mornings when I felt the morning air hit my face with such a spiritual force that I could literally feel a new day dawning upon me. Remember the feeling of crawling into bed just as my roommate gathers her toothbrush and toothpaste. Remember the many mental battles I had in my head on whether going to class tired and sleepy was equivalent to not going at all. Remember showing up on Friday afternoon in the room only to feel irritated that dammit it's all still not over. Remember the feelings of symphathy, and of course guilt, when i call Alvin or Lester on Friday night and find out they had just left the room.

But most of all, I will remember the mornings after. That slice of time between the room and my room, when I feel as if the whole world is still asleep, even the birds, and i have all the breeze in the world to enjoy by myself.

I don't think I will miss off-stone night, but something tells me I won't forget it for quite a while.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

amen

huckerby said...

double amen...

and 179 DUCK RICE RULES!