Post-production euphoria over the weekend. We put up our show; a musical, as the kids asked for; made them sing and dance, put them in colourful costumes and let them blow the socks off their audience. New standards, new heights achieved for the Drama Club, everyone seemed to enjoy the performance, even Tina's illustrious guests, though there were still problems with audibility, occasional missed cues, unauthorised ad-libs (not usually so much of a problem) and OTT overacting by certain cast members. The dream has reached fruition and it's a great feeling to accomplish a task this scary to this level of success.

Spent yesterday not doing anything constructive for a change. Caught 'Kingdom of Heaven' and it was nice to be entertained passively, just sitting there in my cinema seat, mindlessly sipping on Coke as scenes of bloodshed passed before my eyes. The movie had some nice touches in its focus on the 'kingdom of Heaven' being in reality in the mind and in the heart of every person living. It isn't in the structures we build, nor in the political borders we raise, but in our humanity towards each other, regardless of colour or creed. That's the problem with being NE coordinator. You read NE into anything...

Today, the dream became cold, hard reality. Performance over, it was time to put away our toys. Large, heavy pieces of set carried up several flights of steps to be stowed securely behind the College Hall from LT4. Bits of costumes, hand props sorted into reusable material and trash, then disposed off properly. We celebrated our newly assigned drama (store) room, though the room is diametrically opposite campus from LT4 and with me leading the way for our tired NYeDC members struggling with armfuls of barang, I felt like Moses leading the Exodus into the promised land -- the people kept complaining how far away it was all the way there. Then when we finally reached our room, it was "too small," "too hot," blah, blah. Kids, ya gotta love 'em.

P.S. How close we are to facing death, maiming, dismemberment or disfigurement on a daily basis. On the way up the atrium flight of stairs, six or seven of us schlepping a heavy raised platform back into the classroom where we had taken it from turned a corner too quickly and too abruptly that one side slammed into the steel bannister with a jarring thud. A couple of seconds ago, my left hand was supporting that side and might have been turned to powder if I hadn't just moved it to get a better grip elsewhere.