post-uni thoughts

part one: impatience | 12 April 2024

as my last few days of uni life close and time slips away from my hands, i try to catch: the flicker of sun-full grins, the silent authenticity of poolwater, the impatient hoot of the spotted wood. the memories fly and drop like wind, softer than rain but stronger than a whisper. i'm not ready for this day to be over. in so many ways i'm still that bright-eyed, impatient, confused nineteen year old knocking on doors... there's so much left in the to-do list that i've left scattered, forgotten and unaccomplished. it would be dishonest of me to look at me and say, terese i'm proud of the impact you've made.

but we've reached the finishing line already. so we cross it. we heave a sigh of relief, say we've made it. and before your tears fall, i am running ahead, ahead of you at a pace you've never seen before. i will dive into too deep waters and bike across hundreds of highways, because i want to get stronger before this race gets fiercer... and see my footsteps left on the sand just in time before the ways blow them away, all over again.

part two: reconciliation | 13 June 2024

so this is what it feels like to have graduated. to no longer tell people, ‘i study in NTU’. to no longer wake up to the straw-headed bulbul singing outside my window. to no longer plan my schedules so back-to-back that i can squeeze a swim at 8am when it opens and still make it in time for class at 9.30am (okay actually i still don’t). to no longer walk alone around campus late at night and still feel safe, peaceful even, under the soft breath of night air and hushed glow of the moon. 

i don’t know what i’ll miss most. i think of my hall. a shelter where i sought rest, hiding, and solitude for four good years. that let me be alone but never lonely. my mouth still reeks with the sweetness of hall 9’s quaint and quiet styles, which dovetail nicely with its voices of dawn and dusk. the swish-swish of the wooden broom. the canteen waking up first with the drink stall, followed by the mixed rice stall. breakfast stories at can 9 with aunty who tells me about her frightful encounters with snakes. lunchtime tales at can 11 with uncle who tells me about his childhood. 

i think of my friends in school. i will always be eternally grateful to have met some of the kindest, most genuine souls in ASE and made friendships i know will last me for life. i don’t know whether they shaped my personality today or whether it was simply enhanced and released like fireballs. they are just so chill, helpful and stupid… every time we hang i only remember laughing. as we attack each other liberally and ruthlessly and nothing else. will especially remember my 23rd birthday celebrated earlier this year with them… the best birthday i ever had. thank you for the friendship, i had shouted across the street as we left. it was the kind of time that makes you so happy that you want to control and pronounce its end, so its end doesn’t take you instead.

i think of my professors. especially those that taught me to think, encouraged me to ask questions and made me want to learn more and more… the list goes on. the swimming pool. aquathlon trainings and competitions. crowded bowl. can 11 ban mian. the little animal posters decorating ASE. even the open-air brown tables…

little pieces of memories. cumulatively put together, every year made up a new turning point:

• in year 1, new teaching methods that encouraged me to speak my mind left me feeling liberated and empowered; i grew more confident. picked up and embraced activism. 

• in year 2, a heartbreak, mandatory computer science modules and a demanding CCA burst my brain cells and left me feeling crushed, defeated and useless. but i found true friends who stuck with me, sacrificed to support me and always validated my emotions. i will never be able to thank them enough.

• in year 3, everyone in my clique except me left for overseas exchange, and for the first time i felt alone in coping with school... i picked up a new sport, came back to my faith, found new friends and grew yet more independent. 

• in year 4, i lived by the mantra ‘last year best year’, hesitated no longer to do everything i loved and embraced uni life to the full.

and yet, to also deeply acknowledge the sheer privilege we have to sit in a classroom while wars, genocide, humanitarian and climate disasters are raging outside. it feels weird and deeply distressing to learn about unjust power structures and mistakes from history and seeing it all replay in the real world today. 

but just before i pick up my tools to write another campaign, i just want to say that as i leave this university, my heart is full of gratitude and joy. for safe spaces that received and welcomed me, for spaces where my heart and mind sprouted, blossomed and bore new fruit. for equipping me with new skills and mindsets and knowledge. and to do things I used to think I would never do.

and i hope others stepping into university this year or those still in uni will too learn a little bit more about themselves... i can’t wait to see them grow louder, stronger, and taller. for now, i'll impatiently wait.