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Going into hiding on the 42nd Street.

Going into hiding on the 42nd Street.

“I used to know this girl in your school, she should be your senior. She has her name on the yearbook because of her good examination results, you know. I admired her…” he had said. I promptly rolled my eyes behind him. Most SPM achievers would have their names printed out in the book (including yours truly, but I never bothered to check). He proceeded to list down a few names of my ex-high-schoolmates, hoping it would ring a bell or two in my head. I nodded to a few familiar names, but I was mostly left wondering who the others were.

Curiosity got the better of me, however. I was urged to flip through my high school yearbooks a few weeks ago. I did not manage to detect the name of the girl he had wanted me to look up for him in the book – not even anywhere close. However, my efforts were not entirely fruitless.

I found myself grinning as I turned the pages. The colourful pictures, candid shots, flashback of events, sections dedicated solely to selected classes and their students (whereby they had the opportunity to shape up those particular pages themselves)... it brought back a flood of memories. I wondered about the whereabouts of my schoolmates now – probably scattered all over the world now. And some unforgettable teachers.. such as one who “accidently” asked my classmates and I to run around the garden a few times when we were late for his class while in high school.

There is probably aid for us to get in touch with those long forgotten, via websites such as Friendster or Kawanaku.

I think the most visible difference of all, would be the physical transformation of ourselves. There I was, sitting timidly on the chair, legs hardly touching the ground, beside the class teacher while having the class picture taken. Fast forward a few years – standing with friends in the second row, under the glaring sun, ‘squinting’ at the camera. Long hair, short hair. Glasses and whatnots. Prefect suits, ties, and pinafores.

I should probably set a date to go through all the yearbooks I own – sweet and sour memories from primary school, rather hectic and pressured times during high school, and the amazingly so-far-so-good university life I am enjoying.. for now, probably. There is still a year left for me to finish my studies here. Everytime there is a new intake of students, my friends and I would reminisce those days when we would be equally as confused as they are, searching for the right classrooms and hovering between the faculty buildings. Right now, we are actually snickering at the first-year students for having their photography assignments rejected by the ever meticulous and strict Lecturer A. Well, been there, done that.

I just received another beautiful yearbook today, to add to my humble collection. Probably the scary thought to it all is that, there are only two more books left for me to have before I leave university.

On air now: Opaline, Dishwalla

Details of this entry.Wednesday, July 16, 2003, filed under Blogger Archives.
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