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#09

Thursday, August 18, 2005

A tad overwhelmed

Escapism does not pay. The world does not halt in accordance to my whims. University-related spam does not cease when I take to another three-day camp and pretend four years of extreme multi-tasking do not exist in the limited framework of a twenty-four hour day, a sixty-second minute and the caffeine-governed attention span of my human mind (that is, as I type this, very gradually deteroriating into water, electrons and good old mush).

I attempt to digest the contents of my university timetable, as though the names and numbers and venues might somehow morph into something tangible. The nervous weight in my gut settles and grows, feeding on the stream of new information, threatening to erupt from my chest with the finese of a screaming alien in a horror classic. CCAs spam an overflowing school mailbox with notices, sign-ups for clinics, trips, meeting times and places (to be confirmed and re-confirmed) and mailbox-guzzling images to tease. The university administration announces new partnership universities, talks, seminars, IT updates. A zealous professor reminds his students several times to get the required textbooks and requests a teaching assistant, all in pink-font messages (if I recall correctly).

Another day and another email requesting for volunteers for a community service project (clock 80 hours guaranteed!), or seeking attention for the latest school-sanctioned bash (glamorous photographs of freshies grimacing in front of blistering spotlights included!), or another thank-you note to strangers from strangers, or highlighting the winners of some competition you didn't have a clue about, or inviting you to high-tea for some CCA whose acronym you can't figure out, or a warning that your mailbox is about to exceed its limit and quite predictably, helps your mailbox to burst.

Meanwhile, there is the course bidding to fathom, professors looking grand in their beards to meet and greet, a new spanking campus to try and not get lost in, people's names to learn, jobs to find (and keep), CCAs to join and meetings to attend, a laptop to configure and understand, community service reports to write and the usual respiratory functions to remember to perform.

Breathe, breathe, breathe.

I realise people like to ask whether I'm ready for university.

The usual response goes, "Well, I don't have much of a choice, do I."

en at 12:54 am

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