Jaded

     As you may have noticed from my previous, completely jaded last post, university is kicking my ass and handing it back to me, only to snatch it back and beat it some more. Third year of university sucks and the worst part is, it shouldn't be this way.

     Why on Earth did the HLS department decide it was a good idea to hold back all the crazy assed difficulty of a Psychology degree back for the last year? Why crank up the level of harsh reality up by that much? First two years equal adjusting and getting the hang of things, then as you approach and enter third year, they change the rules. They move the goal posts. They reveal that the worst was most definitely kept back for last.

     I don't know what I've done to offend the university, because surely I must have. Nothing else in the world deserves this sort of punishment. The never ending stress alone is enough to drive anyone to the brink of insanity, and my parents have assured me this is the beginning of life. This will never end. 

     Never.

     The thought of being stressed every waking minute of every stinking day is frightening, but that isn't even the worst part.

     Dissertations.

     That word is horrific. It brings me out in cold sweats. It will be the end of me.

     I'm pretty sure third year would be 50% more bearable if the dissertation part did not exist. In fact, dissertations deserve a year to themselves. They should never be put alongside other work, like essays and exams for other modules. 

     The rest of third year work, although difficult, would be manageable if dissertation bloody left me alone. I could manage the deadlines and the revising and reading, yet when you pair that with dissertation, everything goes to Hell in the most extreme of ways. You're pulling your hair out, not sleeping properly, feeling tired all the time, not eating, feeling ill. Screaming, kicking, then burying your head in the sand.

     I like burying my head in the sand, although that method never works.

     Ever.

     Mostly because while you're hiding somewhere (God knows where; my favourite haunt is my head) life is getting worse and worse, building up like a tidal wave waiting for that moment of craziness that descends on you. You know the one that makes you pull your head up for a sneaky peak.

     That's the one, and it's the moment the sea of life crashes down around you and sweeps you off to the End. I can't even fully account for the horrendous nature of the third year of a degree, but it is probably the worst thing I've ever done to myself.

     Self-inflicted torture right there.

     Why did I ever decided it would be a good idea to do a degree?

Take Me Back to the Age of Fresh

     Someone pointed out to me that first year of university is wasted on the Freshers and as I work-out, tired third year, I'd have to agree. Dissertations are hard, the sort of difficulty that no amount of time will ever prepare you for. The modules are a similar level of impossibility, with blagging no longer an easy option, although you can wiggle through some pretty tight gaps. You are stressed ALL OF THE TIME. You are tired ALL OF THE TIME. You even go to bed at a respectable time and get up at the crack of dawn to write more on your introduction, or to plan you data collection, or something equally soul crushing.

     You watch the baby-faced first years saunter in, all wide-eyed and eager as they take scope of their halls and the bars and the clubs. You glare at them as they finish their two day week at lunch and head home or to somewhere full of fun and freedom. You grumble as they make racquet in the library, or hold up the entire student body at a door they can't seem to open. They are everything you want to be, except they are rubbish at it.

     Freshers are unprepared and their ignorance to student life stops them from getting the most out of first year, but by the time you realise how to be a student proper, it's too late. You are twenty going on twenty-one, in your final year, headed towards panicked deadlines and job prospects. You no longer have the freedom you once had, although you have the plans and ideas you once lacked.

     It's cruel twist of fate that when you have time to do things, you have nothing to do and when you things to do, you have no time to do them in.

     Apparently this is a syndrome known as student pensioner. I am a student pensioner. I wish I could relive my first year and do all the things I didn't do and be all the things I never was. Except I know in my heart of hearts that if I did go back to first year, I'd probably end up doing exactly the same things I did the first time. I can't help it. It's just me. 

     So now I'm wrung out and jaded, watching those baby Freshers as they waste what could have been a brilliant year into one of learning the rope, regardless of what they say.

Kirsty's Amazing Night of Technicolour Delights

     Last Tuesday [09/11/10] I went to see one of the world's greatest bands in concert ... Yes, I'm talking about Linkin Park. Who else? They were immense and it was one of the best concerts I've been to. It was more intimate than my first Linkin Park concert, but not as close as the Dead By Sunrise concert. Either way, I found myself up close and personal with the band members, and I nearly exploded from the excitement of it.

     I got to scream along with Chester, rap with Mike and bounce with Phoenix. I watched as Rob hammered away at his drums, and I watched Brad give amazing guitar solos. It was fantastic. The band were on fire the whole night, and being at the front meant I got to see them in the flesh, in all their glory. It was like heaven for me.

     At the end of the night, the band members came to each side of the stage and thanked us for showing up, bowed, waved. It was humbling to be in their presence, and I felt like they had no need to thank us. It was an honour to be there. Anyway, they threw out goodies, like usual, and guitar picks, towels and drumsticks flew into the crowd.

     Guess who caught a drumstick.

     If you guessed Kirsty, you would be right. And my God, did I almost die. The thing about this drumstick is that Rob didn't just lob it into the crowd. He actually looked at me, and then threw it to me, and I CAUGHT IT. And I don't do catching. So, that made the drumstick all the more special. A member of Linkin Park threw a drumstick to me. I can add it to my growing list of Linkin Park encounters.

     Anyway, here is a video to end with. It showcases the best of Linkin Park ... Their ability to give one hundred percent in their shows and be amazing live, and also their ability to really get a crowd going. It also showcases the best of their fans. Enjoy:

Why You Should Never Travel With Me

Today confirmed my deepest fear. I hadn't wanted to confront it. I wanted to ignore it. I tried to ignore it. But to no avail. 

I am cursed when it comes to travelling. Or more specifically, when it comes to trains. 

You've heard my story about when my train was cancelled  Well, it happened again. Therefore, it is not a coincidence. Therefore, I am a magnet for trouble. Therefore, I will end up repelling would-be travel buddies. And I really want a travel buddy. Travelling is lonely and overrated ... and irritating. 

And annoying. I even prayed to someone, anyone, to make today the day that everything ran smoothly, because it's been so long since I had a smooth train ride. But clearly Fate likes to laugh in my face, because no sooner had I gotten to the station, had I discovered my train was cancelled.

Why?

Power failure at the station I needed to go to leaving me in exactly the same predicament as before. 

So please, tell me why trains, or the Train Gods, hate me so much?

First Year at University: PASS

     I just found out that I passed my first year at university with flying colours, rainbows and unicorns. Okay, the even itself wasn't that fantastical, but I've never passed an opportunity to big myself up before, and I'm not going to start now. It's a bad habit that's bad to break, and everyone knows egotisticalism is in!

     I'm so cool, I just made up a new word and trend. Keep with me, keep with me.

     Anyway, the actual finding out was probably one of the biggest health risks I've taken all year. No, scratch that, one of the biggest health risks I've taken in my life. The stress was phenomenal. 

     I wasn't bothered before hand. There wasn't any build up, no weeks of worrying, nothing. I've been quite content living in a world of Pokemon, actually. And I was happy to stay in that world too. My Arcanine needs me, and I need her. But that's beside the point.

     The point here is that I didn't worry until the exact moment I clicked "ONLINE RESULTS" and then my heart seemed to burst in a speedy dosage of adrenaline, and it felt squishy like it had burst. I was trembling, and my skin was getting itchier and itchier as the load bar at the top of the screen began to fill. I was breathing heavily, considering growing a beard and joining a band of travelers, and my brain felt like it was going to explode.

     And then I found out I had passed, but the stress didn't go away, straight away.

     I sat in front of my computer screen, stunned, searching the list of results for some sign that this was a prank. I was convinced it was, because how could I have passed that damn exam. But I had, and life was slowing returning to normal. 

     Never before have I reacted like that, and never again will I put myself through it. 

     I WILL work harder. I WILL!

Why You Should Only Ever Date Yourself

     I was thinking, which is a dangerous pastime, about dating. I had a random idea, which then lead to this post. Dating is a long and tiring game that can often lead to a relationship. And the last thing you could ever want is a relationship with someone else. Because other people are demanding, tiresome and often rude.

     However, nobody wants to be alone. Nobody wants to be the single girl or boy at a couples social. Nobody wants to feel like they're missing out. And I have come to the conclusion that since people are hard work, and dating is necessary, there is one solution:

     The only person you should ever date is yourself.

     I have compiled a list of reasons why dating yourself is the only possibility in a world when everyone cheats on their partner, sexting is traitorous to everyone and monogamy is a myth. I just made all that up, but it sounds cool so it's staying. While I do a victory dance, you can read my list:

1. You Don't Have to Worry About Moving In: You and yourself never have to worry about the stress of moving in together because you already do. You don't need to make room, you don't need to argue, you can just continue to share the space as you were doing previously. Awesome.
2. You Don't Have to Worry About Ditching Your Friends: Everyone knows the problem with first time/second time/romantic romances. You get so caught up in them that you stay with that one romantic person day in day out, ditching your close friends. By dating yourself, you avoid this problem as your friends are your friends. Simple.
3. Dates Are Simpler and Cheaper: Why? You don't have to worry about paying for two people, and splitting the bill's no issue: you'll both pay! Why simpler? No arguments. You know yourself well enough that you'll pick the right place for a date.
4. You'll Always Get What You Want For Xmas/B.Day: Like I said in point three; you know yourself well. So you'll always pick the right birthday present, or Christmas present and, more importantly, the right Valentine's present. Win-win situation.
5. You Don't Have to Worry About Sharing Friends: Your friends are your friends, so when it comes to introducing your date to your closest associates, there are no problems. They already like you, so of course they'll like your date. Why not?
6. You Don't Have to Worry About Getting Along with Their Friends: Same as above; your friends already know your date, because your dating yourself, therefore no issues regarding getting on with his/her mates. 
7. You Can't Be Ooey and Gooey in Public: Unless you're really demented. And psychotic. Because making out with a partner is wrong, and making out with yourself is nauseatingly sickening. Keep it in the bedroom please. I don't want to see, or feel, your love.

     There are hundreds of reasons why dating yourself is better than dating another person, but it takes time, effort and a bigger attention span than I have to type them all. Of course, there are cons to dating yourself, but it would be anti-constructive, or anti-initiative. Whichever is more impressive.

     Anyway, heed my advice and never have your heart broken again. Unless you're like Jace Wayland, and like to occasionally turn yourself down to make things interesting. Sounds like a good game to play, just don't get too heartbroken.

Keys, Tears & The Fear I've Forgotten Something

     Last Friday, I handed my keys over to the staff at Singer Hall. I slipped them into an envelope and handed them over to a friendly woman who wished me a nice summer as I walked out of that officey area for the last time. Or maybe the last time. It depends how sentimental I get next year, or if I ever need a place to crash, literally, near campus.

     It was sad. I didn't want to leave "my" room, or come to terms with the fact I could no longer get in there, despite the fact I had to pay rent for July, despite the last term of uni ending in the beginning of June. Yeah, I think they should better hide their money grabbing schemes too.

     Anyway, I've had a lot of paranoia since then. Little bouts of panic attacks where I wonder if I forgot to be all three keys in the envelope, or if I forgot something that belongs to me in there, or if I didn't clean the room properly and will get fined £300 for it.

    I'll relax soon enough. Maybe in September, or October, or November ...