let lemons be angry

Has it only been two weeks? The very first day of TURT felt like a week. And here we all are feeling somewhat stranded, making plans to see each other three times this week.

I went on the journey determined to be a team player. But each day made me feel more alone, and in a good way. Twelve concerts, and every time Noel reached the middle of his testimony and sang "And can it be that You love me this way, and never ask me to be more than I could be," the question would rise from my own heart like a little sprite struggling to be free. All I am, all the masks I was so proud to have mastered, redundant now. And this is what God wanted to teach me on this trip. He let me pass my audition although it went terribly, just so I would know how much I am loved. And though I am still searching for who I am, beyond sitting properly and the fashion shows and the rock stars and the photographs, all of which bore me at times, at least I know who God is.

As for the road trip itself. Where do I start? I loved my roomie, with whom i scared sleepy people with our Ultraman masks, did a million stupid song-and-dance items, slept under a tent in our hotel room, and had truly heart-to-heart talks. I loved the team as a whole, but they deserve individual posts.

And then the concerts. There were screaming fans, autograph-signings, gushes and smiles, and photo-taking sessions after every concert. We hadn't gotten used to it even by the last concert, and now we will never get that treatment again. Such strange admiration, for such ordinary people. The boys got the brunt of the frenzied love, most thankfully.

And the results. Each time we collected the comment cards and debriefed in the late hours of the night, the statistics never stopped surprising us. They were like breadcrumbs leading us on from one campus to the next, the fuel for the next hundred miles. If only everything we did in life had comment cards to tell us how we've been doing.

But it's a heap of passionate colours now. This is my favourite part, when things are still fresh and throbbing and can't be reduced to bite-sized lessons for storage yet. So when people ask, "how was your trip?" all i can manage is "good," because I don't think they have the time to hear me tell what I really want to tell.

Photos will come soon, when i have sifted through the 12,000 photos and videos we'll get.

I'm too scared to believe that it's over and i have to find another schedule for my life. I can't go back to that. Never.