Story by Jon Seenar, Features Writer | Photo credit to David Zhang
You crack open eyes that have been crusted over with sleep, resisting the urge to make a rude gesture at the offensively bright sun and the offensively useless blinds. You turn over to your iPhone and mouth an offensively rude word at the offensive time. Then, you put on a casual T-shirt and a pair of elephant pants, not bothering to dress up when you think about how offensively often the world offends you.
It’s been almost a month since you’ve had your morning sustenance. You spend some time lamenting about missing another already-paid-for breakfast as you wait for the lift, only to be greeted with the dead, cold voice of the elevator lady, calmly narrating every single motion made by the lift. And when the lift stops yet again (just who takes the lift down from the 2nd floor?) you wish you could feel as dead as her voice sounds. When your slippers slap sluggishly onto the carpeted floors of your classroom, you greet your fellow sleep-deprived friends (and that one person who’s always cheerily but offensively awake) and take a seat at a strategic distance away from your professor. Not that you don’t like the professor, of course. But distance makes the heart grow fonder – and you definitely want your professor to be fond of you when you doze off in his illuminating class.
While your horizons are broadened by the excellent world-class education you’re receiving in the classroom, you check social media. You chance upon the angry posts of a friend from another school, whining about how her shuttle bus broke down on the way to her lecture. You chide your friend in your mind, wishing you could remind her just how lucky she is to have buses to bring her around campus in the first place. Then, you groan internally when you remember with painful clarity how you’ll have to make your own arduous walking journey to lecture later on.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of lessons and meetings (one of which was held in Pulau Cendana of all places?) and by the time you’ve escaped from your last meeting which lasted for a record-breaking 3 hours, 4 minutes and 19 seconds, you decide to head back to your room. You give yourself a pat on the back for surviving the horrid day and jump into bed. That’s when you hear her – the only voice deader and deadlier than the elevator lady’s. You close your eyes firmly. Perhaps if you ignore it for long enough, it’ll prove to be a hallucination instead.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the fire alarm has been activated. Please remain calm as – “ Calm? CALM? How dare she –
Throwing off your covers, you whip out your phone, deciding to vent your frustrations on the College Students page. Alas, you’re already too late. An incendiary post, inflamed by the blazing hatred of the fire alarm, is steadily gathering steam. Though you weren’t sleeping or doing anything important at the time when the fire alarm was triggered, you pick up your metaphorical pitchfork and jump into the fray. You wield your keyboard most expertly, supporting your allies and destroying your opponents with arguments that would’ve earned you your first A grade had you used them in an essay. The keyboard war wages on, long past the ringing of the alarm. You put out a call for accountability, hoping that would soothe the fire raging in your heart, but when you realise what caused this entire fiasco – because someone burned milk in a microwave – you erupted. HOW is it even possible to burn MILK? How did that idiot even get into this world-class institution? You fume and type furiously into the night…
The next morning, you crack open eyes that have been crusted over with sleep, resisting the urge to make a rude gesture at the offensively bright sun and the offensively useless blinds. You turn over to your iPhone and mouth an offensively rude word at the offensive time. Then, you put on a casual T-shirt and a pair of elephant pants, not bothering to dress up when you think about how offended you were by everything in the previous night.
You steel yourself for another day as a student of Yale-NUS.
This article originally appeared in the April Fools Edition of The Octant and is intended for satirical purposes.