The years first semester is about to finish in about a week, which I have off thanks to my doctor. I was studying last year as well, but this year has been the first year of my actual Bachelor’s degree, and it has gone infinitely worse than last year. So. Much. Worse.
From plummeting grades (nice), terrible flats, parking tickets, flooding, moving, hospitalisation, constant expenses and not enough money to pay for them, and unending ‘projects’ (my progressive schools’ version of almost exams, since I’m technically in an arts degree), this semester has been little more than one great big cluster****. I genuinely broke into hysterics in class yesterday morning while explaining the flood post-hospital release.
Sometimes I just want to scream in the faces of all my tutors and parents “I AM TRYING MY BEST” whilst also dumping every last assignment and brief and grade sheet into a great big roaring bonfire. I dream about this every single night. My own personal utopia is one where I get to dance on the pyre that burned away any evidence of uni.
In fact, I would like to make several suggestions to universities everywhere:
Jays’ list of ways Uni can make me crave death a bit less
- Let me scream
- Let us nap
- More dogs to pat
- GIVE US SOMEWHERE TO PARK
- Ban 8 am lectures because no matter how early I go to bed I will always struggle
- Maybe give us a couple days after submissions before assigning work that’s even worse than the last bit
- Be gentle with us, please.
Every time a family member asks me how studying is going, I die a little more inside. No, it is not going well, thank you very much Margaret. Yes, really, Susan. Yes, I did have so much potential as a child Bob. I’m contemplating getting business cards to hand out at family gatherings just so I don’t have to face the reality of my own failures.
On that note, (that was darker than expected) if you’re a student I sincerely hope your life isn’t a giant toilet like mine is right now.