Don't Hang on to Something Too Much

Just when I thought just something right was going my way, its been spirited away again by that insolent nuisance, debate.

This is what happened:

I was listening to the radio as my dad drove me to school, the car radio turned onto 90.5 fm, Classic hits radio station. The music was good, then came the DJ's daily trivia. It was on art.

For some background information I take Art History and have been to the Louvre, twice.

DG Maggie: What was Venus de Milo holding in her left hand?"

DG Hamish: A handbag. (He's rather thick skulled sometimes but essentially good humoured)

DG Maggie: No that is not correct, but if you do know the answer, text message to 72346, GB space, your name, space, and your answer. And you stand a chance to win a pair of Disney On Ice tickets featuring the Disney princesses.

Me: Apple. ( At that time I was thinking of the Birth of Venus, who was placed on my desktop for several weeks last year. She was in a pose with nothing in her left hand, which was placed over her bare bosom. But the symbolic representation of Venus would mean Apple, the forbidden fruit in the Bible or referred to as the apple Paris or Alexander in the Trojan war gave her, which represented her beauty. Or so says the novel I've read a couple times over and which I had flipped through again over the span of the past few weeks and days or even hours.)

Stagnant pause between which I was frantically pressing the small pad of numbers and letters into my dad's cell since I am *ahem* underage.

Sent.

A young girl who wishes like any other princess-to-be, to relive her childhood experience at Disney On Ice, which includes the Little Mermaid, One Hundred Years of Disney and Snow White and some other recollection which had the Beast falling flat on his back during the routine of him and Belle during the Hundred Years.

A teenager who knows how corrupted Disney has become and is dying to enter a Disney landscape devoid of High School Musical and Hannah Montannah.

Cheerful music which I bobbed my head to while clutching my black back-pack. My dad's car is sometimes pleasantly cold.

Ringing cellular.

I picked it up.

DJ Maggie: Hello, may I speak to the guy who instant messaged us? (I had put my dad's name. *cough* underage *cough*

Me: This is his daughter, I answered the question.

DJ Maggie: Oh! (sounds amused in a nice way) What's your name?

Me (thrilled! I love this radio station): Annabel
DJ Maggie: You got the answer correct, apple isn't it? Out of interest, how did you get the answer?

Me: I study Art in school.

DJ Maggie: How old are you?

Me: *Says underage numeral*

DJ Maggie: (stunned pause) Wow, and you listen to Gold 90 fm! So is this in your syllabus?

Me: Not really, I just had Venus as my desktop background for a few weeks last year. Personal interest.

DJ Maggie: Okay just hold on the line. *exchanges standard instructions*

After which I was put on air, realised my art piece confusion but told my dad after air time, said my answer and heard that someone else guessed that Venus had a Bible in her hand.

Someone in class saw me walk in and shouted, "You were on radio right?" Thereafter part of my circle knew about it and I was truly on Cloud 9. Thankfully there was still half-an-hour till school started.

Throughout the day I was thanking God but I had a sense of unease with the date of the concert. I was hoping it was going to be during the March holidays which is when this sort of production goes blasting "WE ARE LIVE IN SINGAPORE!" There was also the nagging apprehension of the Julia Gabriel's debate, we would get the motion that afternoon.

The motion turned out to be "This House Would Allow Community Service as an Alternative for National Service." We're Opposition and have precisely one week, now precisely less than a week at this time I'm recounting my episode, till Friday the thirteenth of March. Negative annotation and stress upon the numeral.

After a counter-productive session, (which ended early because our trainer was seriously not well. (Pray for her folks) She caught the bug from her sister.) I told my mom, who came to fetch me. (My parents pick me up when I end late)

I was simply delighted, I found my Disneyland Paris T-Shirt, I knew where my Mickey cap was, I was dreaming of that time in the Louvre when I did see Venus de Milo, I had a lovely dinner and my dad came home slightly late, now precisely about an hour ago. I asked him about the collection of the tickets to Disney on Ice.

Then he asked me innocently, "Do you have anything on next Friday?"

Next Friday was March the 13th.

I was stunned and started crying. Really tears and tears *stopped to glance at this month's National Geographic* and then looked-I'm sure- like an upset child who's lost her chance to see THE concert. To match my dad said I could have some ice-cream. As if I could bring myself to put on anymore weight. I feel really fat and I wasn't bothered at my eating habits (which are rather good, just that my lifestyle leaves no time for strenuous exercise during competition weeks, which have piled on me only this year) until the blow came.

The same girl who has consequently ignored her homework and debate planning to blog her woes now has to face reality again. Her dad has given her half an orange instead. The same girl who hasn't had a party or true celebration for her birthday, which was February 26th. All because of the debate competition, Julia Gabriel's naturally, was on Friday and Saturday had the Model United Nations Meeting and fellowship meeting at night for my parents. Sunday was no better, church, art, dinner, sleep. Then the weekday tumult.

Now to life and her obligations of me. Which is to stop crying like the six-year-old me, which has hidden all this while very visibly.

Never mind, thank God in all circumstances and the music sung by the church choir and the body of Christ shall outweigh whatever sung anywhere else in the world.