and the counting of sheeps just seem to make his royal highness more awake then ever. how so? the sheeps goes “baa baa” here, “baa baa” there. and the whole dreamscape was a land of fluffy sheep balls…

apparently, the counting of heartbeats suggested did not help much either. 😦 much to the dis-satisifation of his royalness. the thumping, pounding of the beat counts triggers a series of unrealistic dialogues that goes on rattleing in the heads of his poor highness…

and the dialogues that’s purely imaginative and DECENT trigger another series of vague, yet meaning full memories of the life of a pre-arts camp 2005 life…


(the scene changes to a few years back… actually, it’s just a year ago)


clearing leave from the SAF organization, and ready to step into the “somewhat exciting life” of a undergrad in NUS. his highness was clueless on what’s the catch in varsity…

sadly, the whole world was into Engineering Fac. old sch royalty back from sec sch had all (almost) took a bound leap into the worlds of engineering faculty in NUS and NTU, with a few miser who deviated from the norms, proceeding into the sci fac or law facs. keeping in mind that the world was purely male and single at the moment. the world was just another enginering stage.

somewhat, there was one. yes, there was one. (didn’t all superheroes or all cool stories begin with a single trigger that caused a chain of events to occur?)

wj’s joined the realm of fass! arts and social sciences in NUS. with nothing better or much to do, wj successfully (it was more like: “u wan to join or not?; okay ah?; set; we join ba” persuaded his highness to join arts camp 2005.

the 2 joined arts camp after registration. despite the request to group the two together. the 2 were split up.

highness goes into R house, and wj’s swapped in T house.


and hell begin. rather it should be “and life began.”

a horrible first day. a flock of women or rather, venus crashed into the land of mars. overwhelmed, shocked into reasonance. suddenly, the world of many many martians and very few venusians has a role reserval. in fass, it was rather like: a world of many many venusians who ruled the heavens and earth, with some intrudsion by the few martians. his royalness being part of the intruders on a ladies planet.

shocked. continues to be overwhelmed. minichize. insignifiacant rose. a male in a seas of women. terror indeed for one who’s so used to a swarm of cursed man.

nevertheless… it was the sea of women gals ladies that seem to draw out the “bullshit”, “nonsense”, “fun” nature of the turtles shelled that his highness was carrying. thanks to everyone 🙂 blessed u.
life continues to go on. with mutual support from the very very small amount of male company in the venture. his royalness lived. new friends made. new bonds forge. a worth while camp. not to mention the little clinques formed. oh.. just too many to name!
life was boring anymore. there’s new elements! no more martians clusters. now it’s venusians and martians co-operation union of friends! with everlasting memories. confidence gained. confidence stayed.


joined Oweek as a freshie counsillor with the forged friendship in mind. made more new friends. ah… the memories just seem to flock in. without mentioning names, the memories were bulit on.

first impression of the opening day. oops. can’t remember tt much

impressing of the following days… can’t remember.

impression of a stay over event… LOTS.


his highness remembered there were at least a few who caught his attention and remain smithed into his memory banks.

there’s this stupid person (oh.. it’s a gal) who sort of left his poor mateys to die n rot. his highness rememeber being angry and quarraling with the group. nonsense. no1 should be left abandoned and alone to fight for scraps.

his highness remember a fujitsu notebook. microsoft word docu running. and the exact phrase which was told to his highness by the poor abandoned. and the look on their faces.

his highness remember walking a tired “panda-eyed” gal to grab a cab. walking b, he remember a small fragile looking gal (oh.. error on his judgement.. she’s a rock =) ) making calls at the steps, obviously having a row with someone on the phone)

he remembers a few of “everyone” watching a comedian show on notebooks. he remembers seeing the fragile figures of all who were cuddling with the WALL………. from the cold.

he remembers not sleeping keeping a watch over them all.

he remembers jf forgetting to collect her HP when she was back.

he remembers forging links with the invisible ppl who’s there for a while, and not there for a while. whom he has successfully established links 🙂

indeed, oweek was served it purpose in not only bring fun, but also bridge future bondings 😛


he smiles @ the lovely memories that were craved into his soul. and this is why one must join arts camp. the memories, the friendship formed and lasted are vital.

ah… he remembers the ingenius pineapple that’s made collectively. he remembers the person who inspire the mading precedure. he remembers the man who had to carry it. and he remembers all the silly nonsense played.


the memories are good. and yes… of course.. not to forget the transformation that arts camp did. to bring out the hidden fun that is buried deep in everyone!


hmm… typing seem to do the trick of falling asleep.

perhaps it’s the “typing journalist” deity or fairy that demands an entry every nite befores his highness sleeps before he can really step in lala land.