Most of my posts here seem to follow a very set pattern. Emma describes some hurdle thrown up in her path and cheerfully demonstrates how with positive thinking you can get through anything when you put your mind to it. 90% of the time I’m willing to agree with that. My comparison to rainbows, sunshine and gumdrops is a common theme in some of my friendship circles. My flatmates however will paint a very different picture of me.
I don’t want you to read what I write and think that I live in some obscene rose tinted world where nothing is hard and you can achieve all of your dreams with a little elbow grease. That my friend’s is a sugar coated bubble-gum flavoured children’s tale. We’re not children anymore and it’s time to face the music for me. This post is longer than my current wordcount for my dissertation. My deadline is a month and a half away and I can’t bring myself to do it. Just the thought of it makes me cry. I’m crying now because I am just so helplessly angry at everything. I’m angry at my supervisor for not caring that one month in and I’ve met him once and sent him no work. I’m angry at the uni for giving me such a rubbish dissertation. But mostly I’m angry at my inability to make myself care about it. I’m angry that I’m throwing money into this fantastic glittering degree I was sweet talked into thinking I had to have. I’m angry that to succeed in the modern world you probably actually have to have it.
To say it’s all bad would be a lie. If I hadn’t come to Newcastle I wouldn’t have met my incredible friends. I wouldn’t have learnt to do all the incredibly useful things you learn to do when you move out, or at least I wouldn’t have learnt them in the softly padded environment uni provides for you but instead in the real world. Where your overdraft gathers interest and you have no flatmates with which to bemoan the extravagant price of toilet paper and cheese. God forbid sometimes there are even glimmers of interesting things in my course material; although it appears whoever wrote it seemed determined to stamp out any hope of enjoyment and failing that any hope of remembering it come exam season.
I am writing this firstly because it is immensely cathartic. Secondly because despite earlier admitting I have a good dose of the fear in me over dissertation time I’m still procrastinating. Thirdly and perhaps most importantly because I know there are people out there who feel like this (I test my blog posts out on facebook first-I had several people say ‘thank god I’m not the only one’) and you need to know it’s ok to. Sometimes I find everyone seems so determinedly happy about being a student. The notion that sometimes you want to rip all your hair out and cry yourself to sleep over it all is hushed up and sat in the corner. Like the black sheep in the family that you think sounds quite interesting but nobody ever really mentions because of the shame they brought on the family. I’m writing this so you know you’re not alone. Because somehow things always seem a little better when you’re not alone in your misery.