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Published: September 29th 2013
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Hello my devoted followers, it is your omnipotent overlord speaking (please note the alliteration). I request that you pay attention to the following statement regarding my life.
First, I would like to apologise; I’m writing this at 4:08 in the morning because my room is too hot so the window is open, which means I can hear everyone in the common room. Obviously, this is less than ideal sleeping conditions. C’est la vie. Anyway, I’m overtired so this might end up getting weird.
School is going okay. I need to get a move on on two essays I have to do by October 14
th. It’s completely ridiculous because that should be Thanksgiving, not to mention the fact that it’s Avery’s birthday. Side note: if you’ve somehow stumbled on this blog and you don’t actually know me or my family, Avery is my elder sister.
So that’s crap, but what can you do?
Rhetorical question, please don’t answer that.
Anyway, back to the narrative.
School is okay; I have a lot of reading to do. I started all my tutorials this week, which are smaller classes where we can ask questions and talk about the subject matter etc. It’s pretty cool. Each tutorial is run by a tutor who is well versed in the given subject matter. This means that most tutors are bordering fifty plus. And that’s totally cool, I don’t discriminate against age. Normally, I wouldn’t mention this, but their age is relevant to the next half of this anecdote. My Philosophy tutor is an anomaly; he isn’t old and he isn’t a lecturer. He’s a third year PhD student from Italy (I really can’t stress his Italian-ness enough here) and he’s remarkably attractive. Accent and everything. Tall, dark, handsome… the whole bit. It rocks. Except his name is Andrea. That’s a bit odd, but we can ignore that.
I have met a few nice people in my tutorials, including a girl named Emma from New Jersey and a boy named Felix from Kent. Emma is here for a semester and agrees with my assessment of our Philosophy tutor. Felix likes Blade Runner and he’s in a band. I know him from my British History tutorial.
So yeah, that’s school. Good times.
My social life is pretty cool too. I’ve made some very solid friends and we all get along quite well. I had my first experience looking after very drunk people this weekend when I had to help two of my friends home from a flat-warming party we were at. I held their hair and everything. Fun stuff. It’s times like that when I congratulate both myself and my parents for causing me to become a responsible drinker.
Fun anecdote that I probably shouldn’t put online: At the party the other day, one of my other friends is incredibly off her face and somehow gets it into her head that it would be a good idea to catch a late train back to Newcastle, where she lives, to surprise her family and friends. So she leaves the party without telling any of us, so we assume she just went back to the residence, goes to the train station (bear in mind that it’s past 11:30 PM at this point) and asks for a ticket on the next train to Newcastle. She is told that the next train is at half six. So she figures that “yeah! That’s a great time to be up and out! It’s only 6 hours of waiting!” She buys the ticket (one way) for 50 quid and decides that the smartest option is simply to wait at the train station instead of heading back to Pollock Halls to sleep until her train arrives. I mean, six hours goes fast when one is having fun blathering away at no one all alone at a train station. Luckily, her random chatter that is directed towards no one manages to attract the attention of the fuzz, who ask her what she’s doing. When she calmly explains that she’s settling down to wait for her train, she’s told that she can’t sleep at the station, it’s just weird. So she’s escorted to a taxi and is sent to Halls. She sets her alarm for 5:30 to catch her train and falls asleep, drunkly oblivious to the fact that she has called a friend and told him that she’s coming home and proceeded to hang up on him when he tried to talk her out of it. Obviously, this caused some panic on the other end; it’s very funny to me, because I’m not involved, but I imagine it was quite traumatising to her friend. When her alarm goes off at 5:30, she’s sober and realises that she has spent 50 pounds on a one way ticket home that she can’t use because that’s ridiculous and I assume this has lead to some sort of religious epiphany because she’s currently swearing off alcohol.
I heard this story over brunch. Which is funny because today was an open day, which means that prospective students were on campus and at the meal hall with their parents, and my friend is very loud so it is very possible that these kids are looking at this prestigious, academic, historically influential university, and then all their sweet ideals are crushed by a group of hung over kids and their one friend who knows better (not to sound superior or anything, but thanks mom and dad for teaching me how to drink responsibly).
Tonight we had a movie marathon. We watched Moulin Rouge and then the Back to the Future movies. I had never seen Moulin Rouge and I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but whatever it was I was watching was certainly not it. Great film though.
An update on my health: I remain ill from Fresher’s Week. According to my mother, who has diagnosed me via Skype, I have bronchitis. I have decided to go by the tried and true method of healing: continue as normal as long as you’re not coughing up blood. This method will work for a variety of ailments, including a broken bone, the common cold, and TB.
On a related note to my previous two points, if I’m still coughing by the end of next week, I’m renaming myself Satine and I’m heading over to Paris to die dramatically in Ewan McGregor’s arms. So that’s my weekend plans.
Things are looking up, fortunately (but unfortunately for dear Ewan) my coughing has decreased from crippling fits that make me cough so hard I start crying and feeling sick, which also leaves me wondering if I am literally going to cough up a lung, to the much more manageable dry hacking cough of a person who smokes three packs a day. It’s a shame I don’t smoke, it would make this cough seem much more fair. I need to drink more water. Like, a lake-full.
And that concludes the report of what I deem important and relevant to my life and my readership at five in the morning (almost. Notice that I did start at four, but this has taken me an hour. Appreciate the effort that I put into these things.)
Good night, Night Vale.
(Completely unrelated to this post, but Welcome to Night Vale is a sci-fi esque podcast that is really entertaining and FREE {a student’s favourite word} so you really should download them and then thank me for the hours you will spend wondering about the amount of sentience the Glow Cloud possesses and what exactly Night Vale has against Desert Bluffs.)
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