Subjectif…

The first week after orientation blurs right past. But something floats ominously way back on everyone’s minds, despite the hefty piling up of To Do’s, thanks to the brutal plunge into studies. An unspoken fustration, a silent anticipation…

Where is my OPAC?

I’d been disappointed outraged by the absence of this coveted shoebag (with contents included) during JCO, until the rumour that the entire shipment had been held up during transportation in China. The mental picture of authorities barring a box of harmless water bottles and bandanas from moving through the gantry was laughable to say the least. Nevertheless, I begrudgingly accepted the SPEARCA shirt in all it’s duo-coloured glory which served to pacify my cries of ‘I want my jotterbook to write this down in!’ for about a minute.

Somehow, the sizes of the shirts managed to get messed up so badly that some got shirts disproportionate to their body size. Tunics were the fashion statement in SPEARCA.

When Victorians are disgruntled, they take to the virtual world.

Facebook groups sprouted like saplings from seeds: ‘I WANT MY OPAC!’ and ‘MY SPEARCA TEE CAN FIT AN ELEPHANT’…
They had members chorusing their assent as numbers increased drastically with each ‘join group’ click.

And eventually, we all got our OPACs. Yay! (I’d like to say that it was the fruit of our complaints, but nah.)

What’s next? How about a group for your favourite drink mix from the fruit stall in the canteen? Nothing’s too ridiculous, and I’d join the one that says ‘apple-orange-grape jelly ftw!’