The idea that this column has finally reached the present day is a relief. The knowledge that this is largely due to having little to say about September: not so much. If you think time flies whilst you’re at university, you’re in for a shock after it’s finished. I am basically middle-aged.
On a serious note, I turned 23 and it was hideous. Following celebrations a few weeks before for my best friend’s 22nd, I decided London was the desired destination. ‘T.G.I.F.’ finally had a meaning, and a night in Faces resulted in plenty of rapping-in-the-club action from yours truly. Really, they shouldn’t let me out (or in, even). ‘EssexMC’ aside, the new ‘SundayFundays’ basically involved eating, and after copious amounts of goat’s cheese, meringue, mojitos and pizza (not together), I decided I should probably join a gym. Joining the gym is also meant to help keep you calm; endorphins are always fun. I felt significantly un-calm as we battled a journey from Central London to Gants’ Hill at 5.30am. Despite having had the best night, I nearly fell asleep in the nightclub. My best friend actually did fall asleep in the nightclub but she had jet-lag, which is much more understandable.
Weekdays are a different level of fun. Having made my 738,274thentry into the ‘Stupid things said at work’ list, I learnt that Malta is a country, not a part of Spain. Adding to my education, Friday morning’s taxi journey involved a 7.20am political discussion about the Scottish referendum, and various other hot topics. At several points, this was verging on a taxi-seminar in the form of Q&A sessions. After 10 minutes nodding and running out of different phrases for ‘I agree’, I found myself craving a large glass of wine. This craving returned upon Monday’s knowledge that I was singing. That day. Despite my rapper-persona that appears following far too many glasses of Sauvignon Blanc, singing at work was one of my least favourite challenges. After being designated ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun’, and actually signing this to over 15 guys, acapela, I am no longer worried. About anything. Apart from taxi journeys.
After finding myself with Fresher’s Flu despite being over 3 hours away from Fresher’s Week (and in no contact with any university), I hibernated for the weekend. Discovering that my column is now in print at UWE was encouraging, yet did not cure the writer’s block I have been battling for three weeks. One significant change I have found post-university is that I am living in the present, as opposed to preparing for the future. At 23, I may not take life as seriously as I should. This realization became more apparent after writing about Tinder. Jesus is no longer talking to me.
N.B. Next week’s column will involve a return to suitable topics of discussion.