Every step we take, challenges ahead, we turn them all to gold.

My exams are over.

But but but before you glare at me with disgust and seething teeth- yes you who still have that one last paper to go- I have to say I'm not smelling the freedom at all. Not one flowery citrus-filled ounce of it.

This is my last term break of university, the last "holiday" of my official school days, but coincidentally, also the crunchtime of my Final Year Project.

Thus, instead of sweet, sweet freedom, I smell plastic equipment, burning lights, and (I assume) the salty odour of my fellow Fat Tripods' blood and sweat. Nevertheless, pleasure comes in different forms for different people, and this, to me, is pleasure wrapped underneath a whole truckload of pain (work).

Today was a packed day of doing FYP stuff. So was yesterday. I forsee that the following weeks will also be highly devoted to these three magical letters. However, funds are limited (ZERO at the moment and we're going to be in deficit soon) so I would like to emphasize- guys, I need money. Moolah, cash, ch-ching, dough, dollars and cents.

There.

Anyway, on a totally irrelevent topic, I went back to my old Junior College today. The "Walls of Hope" have been painted over with brown paint, and the canteen has expanded. There is a bbq corner and the whole carpark has now been fully patio-ed. I wanted to look for Ms R for some help in my FYP, and I ended up coaching and playing with ACJC against SR for a friendly game.

It was fun, nevertheless. Felt like the good ol' times again. When Ms R went on with her debrief (this one's short compared to what I had during my time), I sat on the court, just listening and thinking how much time has gone by since I last did that as a student there.

I always told people, if I had to pick the best time I had during my entire education, I'd pick the times in Junior College, long potassium maganate stained skirt withstanding. For I think I evolved, sort of, and turned my challenges into gold (it's the school song!)

Now I don't know how to end this. It looks to be turning into a melodramatic ending. Which isn't very me. So I'll repeat myself again.

I need money. Moolah, cash, ch-ching, dough, dollars and cents.