Verdict

Number 8 had his face boiling. It was unnaturally something that happens at the point when he was stricken with nervousness. It couldn't be helped. Somewhere not so far away, a friend of his spotted him from way across. Saw he had the face of a tomato.

Talking helped. The other contestants were on the same page, in the same boat. They were very friendly. Hmm. Maybe in times of desperation comrades talk to each other. I don't know. I'm just narrating here, how am I supposed to know?! Finally it was his turn. What thoughts went through his mind, he wasn't sure. He just kept telling himself, "Speak normally, you'll know it'll be alright". Thinking is so much easier than doing it.

Then he did it.

Nervous at first.

It just flowed.

He was so exhilarated at the end of it. He knew that he had done alright. The hardest part, or seemingly to him, had ended. Big relief. He was just so 'un-tensed'. He could finally relax, momentarily.

And then number 11 finished. Time for break.

He was just so happy to see his friends. They were beaming at him, giving him the thumbs up. Throughout the break he felt that he had indeed done something so spectacular. The feel of it was truly awesome. And then it came:

Spontaneity time.

Time for quarantine. As usual, the contestants made a 'campfire' in the quarantine area, and jokingly said that they must have had A(H1N1) if they were quarantined. One by one they left. Slowly the place got lonelier and lonelier. Number 8 was thankful that he wasn't the last one to go. If it was, there would be no sailor in the same boat. Shipwreck time.

Being brought to the room where the topic would be given, a plan was made up. Since it was such a long distance to the stage, after given the topic, while walking, there would be much time for him to develop his ideas further. That was the flaw in the plan. They gave 4 minutes in the room to write your ideas, but thoughts also can be processed while you walk, see? That includes an extra half a minute of thinking. Valuable, it was. Upon entering the room, the envelope was given. Opening it, he saw a folded paper which bore the words 'Success' on it, apparently typed on by Microsoft Word. The timer started. Thoughts came rushing. Pencil came into contact with the paper. Point by point was written down. Done. He looked up. The time wasn't finished yet. Odd. He turned to the paper. Tried hard to spark further ideas. Not much hope.

*ring* Time was up. Why does the notation for it always had to be a ring? Walking to the stage, words morphed and developed in his mind. Alright.

Up the stage he goes. Once bitten, twice shy? No way, it was more comfortable once you know the surroundings of your presentation arena. Once again, it rolled. All that was pent up in his mind, unfurled. He just spat it out, hoping it would be relevant and enough for the judges.

Looking back at it now, he was so, so exhilarated and relieved it was over. But is it really over? No.

Yes, no.

Why?

What was the verdict?

He was to bring it on to a further stage.

He made it to the next round.

Okay, but what's the damn verdict?!

First.

Congrats, number 8. I know that he knows he should be humble, and though he can relax for a short moment, he will have to prepare very soon for a bigger challenge a fortnight from now. Happy he might be, but he was not going to be satisfied with an achievement like this.

He was going to go far.

Man's reach exceeds his grasp.

Let's just hope he will do it.

Good luck, number 8.

Thursday, July 16, 2009