finishing school, a goodbye

      each day of the last seven years has woven into my mind some of the most intricate of memories. so it’s strange that it feels like it was only yesterday that my first memory of walking through the front gates of st. mary’s college was sewn. it’s strange that it seems like it was only yesterday that i was in my junior uniform whose short sleeves covered my elbows; whose tunic had to be hemmed up to my ankles.
      seven years have passed. i didn’t see myself grow and i didn’t notice the time pass, so swiftly by. my uniform though, from a gown became like a second skin, well worn after six years. in realising this a little too late, i wanted so desperately to maintain a strong grasp on my youth by continuing to wear my junior uniform, all in vain, as the fact was: my second skin’s buttons popped off and fabric tore each time i breathed in, doing nothing to flatter. this did coax me in the direction of wearing my senior uniform, which has in its due time begun to compress every ounce of flesh it has been sewn around. it’s a sure sign that it is indeed time to move on; further away from my youth once again.
      still, i do want to maintain the childhood that is fast slipping through my fingers like the fraying threads of my uniforms. but i know that if i continue to wear them, the threads will break more, leaving broken memories. i have hence realised, that the only way to preserve the intricacies that define each memory is to let go; to preserve them; to actually create a past to remember.
      amidst a slight sense of fear of leaving the comfort of this seven year routine behind us; this year has also been deeply exhilarating because every event was our last at st. mary’s, making each one so much more precious. this is the past that has been sewn so intangibly into our uniforms, which has been such a significant part of our lives for the last few years. this is the past that we may reminisce freely about, yet never, ever be part of again. 
      the memories, woven and sewn so intricately into our uniforms, can never change. to contrast, the knowledge we have gained from our whole lives is ever growing from a sown seed to a tree whose branches continue to stretch and spread like another woven complexity, as we grow.
      our whole lives, our growth has been a product of our respective pasts; of our respective relationships. older, taller trees, who’ve spread their branches to the heavens, drop the leaves of their minds to the ground, and the leaves decay. from this decay, the seeds just sown: we students draw nutrients: ideas, knowledge and wisdom which enable us to mature and continue the cycle. we’re really only just saplings in the process of growing. it is our parents, teachers, relatives, friends and acquaintances from whom we draw this nourishment. and from this we grow: stretching our branches; dropping our own leaves; nourishing a new generation with our own ideas and insight. so the cycle goes on…
      to the staff at st. mary’s: i would like to thank each and every one of you for dropping your leaves of knowledge and wisdom which have formed the strong foundation for the rest of my life. to the year 13 students: we’ve grown up together, and i feel privileged to have been entwined around a branch in each of your lives and i really do hope that we all will meet again in the not so distant future. i would like in particular to thank someone who has always stood beside me in my years at st. mary’s; she’s helped me without even meaning to; we’ve shared the most interesting conversations without even saying a word; she’s my closest friend… sara. above all, i would like to thank my parents: my father, for sowing my seed and my mother, for sewing my uniform


for the seven years of my secondary schooling career, i attended an all-girl catholic school called st mary's college. i certainly could not have asked for a better formative adolescence. i befriended and became acquainted with many people with whom i'll be friends or at least remember until i'm around one hundred and seventy six.

i found it difficult to express in words, my erratic, conflicted emotions about having to leave the routine of school behind me - i don't particularly like change. i do however think that when my schooling years were over, i was ready to leave - the change was inevitable.

see, erratic and conflicted

hot-cold, yes-no, in-out, up-down, bitter-sweet, copyright



now contrary to popular belief, i really haven't any problem with people who are fatter than they should be. i don't mind.

the other day i was riding my bicycle home. where i come from, there are no designated lanes for bicycles on roads, so we just have to make do with the space we have on the street, which makes for a difficult task at the 5pm post-work rush-hour. i somehow managed to do this until i got on broadway, whose pavement has a broader paved way than the norm - so i rode on there.

i was riding merrily along until i was behind a youngish couple. mid-thirties. slim man, fat lady. when i was close enough, i said "may i ride past you?"

"you should be riding on the road," said fat lady. now i could have rode past and ignored the comment. but i chose not to. because all i requested was for her to move out of my way for a second.

"it's peak hour traffic," i say "i don't particularly want to die, and it probably wouldn't kill you to get on one of these," referring to my bicycle - and then i rode off without waiting for a reaction. because i didn't particularly want to die


emceeing mc

so i was emceeing at a music concert in some church some years ago. it was a series of string, wind and voice performances which was quite a symphonic montage considering the youth of the performers. it was unfortunate that the mc was not quite there.

there was a solo performer, anna broom - who performed a beautiful vivaldi violin solo. oh yes, it was lovely. but i just thought her name was funny.

"wow anna broom, that performance really swept us away."

dead silence.

"is this microphone on?"

i died a little, inside