Second Year Uni Adventure: First Term Review

So, that’s that. First term of second year done. It doesn’t seem like very long ago that I was a mere fresher, setting out to navigate my way through the assault course that is university, but alas, I have now reached half-time in my quest through higher education.

I sit barely an hour into a four-hour trans-European flight, already bored to death of my iPod, and too immature to actually read a book, so have decided to take to my laptop to write. It doesn’t seem that the ever-so-slightly overweight, middle aged woman (?) to my right wants to hear about my university experience thus far, and so I figured it best to bore you lot instead.

Lest you forget, I already chronicled my first two weeks of second year in my previous blog (https://musingsofabored19yearold.wordpress.com/2013/10/08/second-year-uni-adventure-two-weeks-in/) and so there is no need to recap.

Since then, a lot has happened.

Lectures. Essays. Drinking. Partying. That-other-thing. Sleeping. Repeat.

If I rendered a vibrant, adventurous fresher last year, I have become even more synonymous with the stereotypical university student this.

Warped sleeping patterns have meant early nights and power naps being replaced by an unhealthy amount of RedBull.

Budget decisions have meant premium vodka being replaced by £1.20/litre cider, lovingly known among students simply as ‘that poison’ – as in “I can’t believe you’re drinking that poison again!”

Well-researched study and accurately-planned revision timetables have been replaced with three-day library binges. As any student worth their salt will tell you, pyjamas and hoodies are the accepted apparel, and during this period we are fuelled primarily by caffeine and an intense fear of failure – realising this would mean having to forgo the rest of university and instead find an actual job and move back…you know…home. (AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH)

Of course, none of this would be possible without all those who are sharing my university experience with me. In particular, I speak of those with whom I share my 8-bedroom student house. Those lucky sods. Having to spend nearly every waking moment with me, one can only imagine how I haven’t yet driven them to insanity.

So, what specifically can I say about them?

Well, first of all, I must say they are all absolutely fantastic and I love living with them blah blah blah. They are a great bunch, although they do all possess qualities that perhaps could do with honing – if only to make them even more delightful to live with.

Now, without naming names or specifics, I shall highlight just a few of these.

With it seemingly recognised that my course is not the most prestigious on offer, anyone who studies anything remotely ‘respected’ or offering any actual ‘job prospects’ feels it within their right to constantly make sly jibes that they are doing a ‘proper degree’. Invariably, they will study rocket science. Or brain surgery. Or law. They work hard, often pouring over their leather-bound textbooks into the early hours. However, this isn’t to say they don’t also play hard. Hours cooped up in their bat-cave plays tricks on their mind. They become mildly insane, which leads to an uncontrollable unleash on their weekly night out. Often their vodka will get the better of them, leading to emotional drunken outpourings, naps in the corner of the dancefloor, and the unconscious snorting of chips.

Albeit somewhat pretentious, their presence is much valued, as they often offer insight into how to actually study effectively, and what it would be like to actually have prospects for the future.

Another type of housemate is that of the ‘clean freak’. They tolerate no spec of dirt and all litter is immediately disposed of. They live their life by sell-by-dates, and clean surfaces and worktops become their pride and joy. They relish arguments over the cleanliness of the kitchen floor, and draw up timetables for when cleaning must occur. In fact, ‘clean’ isn’t merely enough – everything must be sterilised after use.

I am not widely known for my tidiness or clearing-up expertise, and so their obsession with cleanliness is actually rather useful, and even appreciated – especially when they take it upon themselves to clean the kitchen of other peoples’ mess.

On the other end of the spectrum is that one housemate who just does not care. No, NOT me. This guy is on some mental free-for-all. All types of hair in the sink, empty shampoo bottles left in the shower, piles of clothes dumped in the corner of their room (as well as throughout the house), this housemate simply has no care in the world for cleanliness or tidiness. And, to be honest, who can blame them? There are only so many years of military-esque precision clothes folding, world-record speeds of emptying and re-stacking the dishwasher, and spotless worktops that any teenager can take. Once left to their own devices, it is only natural that they let go a little bit, and live like that slob that they only ever dreamed of being.

In reality, all students possess traits emanating from all three of these categories. And, if they say they don’t, they’re lying.

Of course, everyone works a little bit (when deadlines are approaching).

Of course, it is nice to keep the house clean (when the landlord comes to inspect).

Of course, everyone lives like a bit of a slob (in between visits from parents).

On this note, I sum up by saying that it has been a simply fantastic term, and I cannot wait to do it all again next semester!

I shall now return to deciphering whether the specimen next to me is indeed a woman, or if that suspiciously short haircut is in fact that of a man, rather than some attempt at finally accepting her age.

DW