Tuesday, 8 December 2015

Year 3: Half done and still no relief

Year 3 of university is the year of the unknown. It is the peculiar stage in a student's life whereby they begin to realise that the hard work is seriously about to kick in. That the midweek boozing sessions are a thing of myth and legend and that dribbling in and out of consciousness during lectures are simply not allowed anymore. Every minute counts and that means prioritising time for work and not intoxication.

On the 7th of December 2015 at approximately 8pm I submitted my final piece of work for the semester, thus shutting the curtains on my first term of third year. My shoulders began to relax and beer freely went down my gullet without a feeling of guilt being attached to it. However, it has been less than 24 hours since this liberating and wonderful experience and I am beginning to come back to the reality that though half of this torrid year is complete, 80% of the work is still ahead of me.



D.I.S.S.E.R.T.A.T.I.O.N


That word.

It sits on the horizon of the new year like a dog turd on the pavement. Obvious. Misplaced. Vile. Yet something that will eventually be trodden on at some point. It is this what worries me the most about my next 4-5 months, to be walking around with something revolting attached to each one of my steps. A something that will have to be scraped of with a stick and with this giving out that most unpleasant smell; shit, shit, and more shit.

My first semester of third year has been one that has been controllable... just.

The biggest difference between my previous years of uni and my third is that there is a lingering waft of guilt that follows any passing of time not spent on reading, writing or planning. That if I were to give myself a break from glaring at a book of heavy, complex and often confusing words,  I am slowly but surely tying a noose around my neck. A neck and a life that can be only saved by one thing.

Responsibility.

Responsibility is the biggest problem of the third year student.

We are, mostly, approaching 21 years of age.

This means that we are well and truly distanced away from the blissfully ignorant days of 18 and that  now we are well informed and aware of what laziness causes.

In my case it will cause a thin, lackluster, and embarrassing dissertation.

A dissertation to which will have a massive influence on my final classification.

A classification that will determine what job I get after university.

To summarise, a number that could either make three years and thousands of pounds of debt worth it, or could slit my throat, break my legs and throw me into the ocean with nothing but a brick to keep me afloat.

It just sucks that even though I have worked harder this term than ever before I know it was, in essence, a prep for the storm. A storm that will begin in mid-January and continue for months until I am nothing but a pool of liquid exhaustion, desperate for a little reassurance that it was all worth it.


1 comment:

  1. I invite you to me.
    http://you-never-know-when-death-comes.blogspot.com/2015/12/05-intruz.html?m=1

    ReplyDelete