I thought I’d start a small series of university centred posts for my five month countdown. Perhaps it will be something cute and nostalgic to look back on as a graduate…or maybe it will be utterly laughable and I’ll wonder why I was so completely neurotic and just a little bit retarded…depending on whether I’m seeing a therapist or not, I suppose. But as always, I’m up for embarrassing myself on the internet.
I’d like this little series to continue throughout the academic adventure that will be my time at university and maybe even a reflection as a graduate…I suppose that will also depend on the therapist.
University is the major upcoming event in my life at the moment and not a day goes by where I don’t think/worry/excitedly want to squeal about it all. I have confirmed my unconditional offer to attend Portsmouth University to study English Literature and Language.
The application process for me, and for me alone with all my special little quirks, took almost four years. It started in my year 12 year, when teachers and tutors and whoever else wants to jump on the pressure-cooker bandwagon, start harping on about looking at universities and starting to think about a life after the comfort of school. But because of all the pressure and a cocktail of illogical stubbornness, a few drops of rebellion and a dose of anxiety, I didn’t deal with it. The UCAS website then became a kind of mental block for me. It genuinely made me feel sick. So, instead, I took a gap year that magically turned into two and on September 30th 2014 I finally applied for universities. I had to apply as an independent rather than through an organisation so I had to find someone to be my referee. I also spent about six months writing a personal statement. I read everything the internet had to offer about writing personal statements, specifically for English students. I had my slightly warped mind-set that if my PS wasn’t absolute perfection, no university would ever accept me. Why would any university accept a prospective English student who couldn’t write? Or spell? Or communicate at all?
Portsmouth replied to me almost instantly with an unconditional offer, and not long after that I accepted. I won’t lie, originally, Portsmouth was not my first choice. I changed my mind when I decided I didn’t want to risk delaying anything yet another year. Since then, I’ve re-read course details to the point that I can almost recite them perfectly. I think I’ve made the right decision now, or perhaps I’m just telling myself that to feel better and its really quite pants. Only time will tell.
I went down to an open day about six weeks ago and fell in love with Portsmouth. I’ve since Google Street viewed the rest of it. I’ve never really lived in a city- or anywhere that doesn’t completely die at 10o’clock when the local co-op shuts- and am disproportionately excited to live somewhere there’s a Starbucks within walking distance and that’s open late. I love the idea of everything in walking distance. Sea, Ferries, University and Train station for £1 trips into London! Only one English Sterling Pound!! I don’t even know how that’s possible! I currently pay £22 from 39 miles out; this is one solitary English pound! HOW?
I’m pretty sure I’ll spend more time in London as a poor student than I do now! It’s a perfect halfway point between here and there and will probably be a frequent meeting point.
I’m excited to leave home again. It suits me perfectly to be moving away to live alone but with a group of people. The jury is out on the living with strangers thing, however. If they’re anything like the roomies (Sorry, Dad) I currently have, then I don’t think I want to go. I’ve asked for an ensuite for the health and safety of all involved. Individual ‘bathroom mess’ is definitely not a good preliminary impression; I just don’t think “Hi, I live a paper thin wall away and I’m trying to make mosquito nets for Africa in the shower drain we share” is acceptable. It’s not certain I’ll get a place in halls; they can only house 70% of first years. This is currently the biggest panic-inducing factor about the whole university extravaganza. That, and how many times my Grandma is going to FaceTime me asking me a) If I’m doing my work and b) how to fix her FaceTime
It could get to July and I’ll be told, hahahaa sorry no home for you! Half of me doesn’t care and has a very come-what-may attitude. The other half of me needs a paper bag. Currently, the hippy, loose, spontaneous part of me is winning.
I-probably like most freshers- am concerned about being left completely to my own devices with no calming or sensible influence, whatsoever. Who knows, maybe I’ll be the calming influence (doubtful but possible, I suppose) It was completely acceptable to be self-destructive and spontaneous and have a slightly leisurely approach to life last time I was left to myself because that was the whole point of it. This time, I’m supposed to be achieving something. This is a pretty long winded way of saying I hope I don’t turn into a piss-head drop out, because I will have to despise myself and who has the energy for that with a hangover?
This is a very random and quite sad thing to add to this list of thoughts, but I’m really excited to cook for myself. I cook at home often, but it’s hard to please five people with one meal, so we have the same meals quite often. I’m really excited to try cooking different food for myself. One won’t eat spicy food, another doesn’t like anything in a sauce and the other…she eats chicken and smoothies whose ingredients take up 92% of the fridge and that’s about it.
Portsmouth University, if you happen to read this, or any of the following posts about university, please please please give me a place in halls!! Oh, and thanks for my bursary!