205 CORS-ing

Perhaps the best word invented since "toothache"... the NUS Centralised Online Registration System (CORS), and its verb analog, CORS-ing (since I'm lazy to press the "Shift" button repeatedly, I'll spell it as corsing from here onwards), is something that drives one up the wall, and even to the ceiling. Especially if you're one of those people with short attention spans. I have moderately long attention span for figuring things out, relative to most Science Fac people, and I'm still quite glad that I wasn't tempted to reach for the nearest clothes hook, (for whatever purpose, I'll leave it to your imagination.)
This diagram seriously looks more like a cross between a flowchart for chemical synthesis, and a Physics formula

After a while, corsing starts to make a little more sense, and you realise that it's like some silly application you'll find in some Facebook application, or Neopets, albeit that it's injected with a dose of formality befitting a programme coming from the Department of Mathematics... and also, it begins to dawn that the game you're asked to play in decides your future. And, I hate leaving things to totally random chances (I do so very hate coin tosses, and Rock, Paper, Scissors), and now the fate of my next few months of tutorials depends on balloting, which as effective as playing Russian Roulette.
And, we all realise that we were better off when we were playing to feed a cute blue Kacheek
Being a student of the Faculty of Science, I have the privilege of declaring my first major till the very last day, but with the (dis)advantage of not having pre-allocations, i.e, I get all the fun of building timetables for myself, which is very exciting until you realise that you have as many clashes as a multi-car pileup on the North-South Expressway. After multiple failed attempts to clear the debris, I finally got one that works. And even after that, I had to tweak the table a little more to fit in my USP modules. In the process, there were various threats to my sanity, and some not-very-decent words were blurted out. But, that's the trouble a person attracts to himself when he attempts to do 6 modules in a semester, another of my infamous attempts at performing academic gymnastics. So, after experiencing a couple of days of trauma, I finally placed my advance bids, and wondering whether I will ever be able to complete the minor in Chemistry.
So, here's to everyone, good luck corsing, and welcome back to the Land of Countless Acronyms and Persistent Bureaucracy.
PS: Repeat after me: "Acronyms are good for us. They make communication so much simpler, despite the fact that the are initially confusing."
PPS: Note to self: I will not work so hard. University life is supposed to be good for you.
PPPS: Seriously consider getting a bike.