I’m not overly sure about how I managed to pull my thigh muscle (that’s not even what it’s called, is it?), but I did and it bloody well hurts. I was supposed to walk (or cycle) to the post office to get my parcel from WHSmith today but it hurts too much to walk properly. Annoyed.
University starts in a matter of days now, around 14 I think. I’m still at a loss as to where I’m supposed to be, induction and timetables and all that. Just yesterday I was at the uni after getting a coach back from London and I realised just how FUCKINGMASSIVE it is. D: It’s soooo big. I’m going to get lost. It’s like being in year 7 all over again. The inevitable horror of walking into your first class twenty minutes later, coated in sweat and panting because you’ve run around the entire bloody building. I need to do some recon’ before my first day.
Next week is Fresher’s week, (hurray!(?)). I think it’s charm is somewhat lost on me. I’m going to a few events, the bunfight and the fresher’s fayre (FREE STUFF), but I’m not overly bothered about making social interactions with 18 year olds who are high on the fact they live alone now. (Although I do not count Halls of Residences as ‘living alone’.) The best thing about going to University in my hometown is that I get to keep all of my previously made friends, my best friends who are all still around and my boyfriend who doesn’t go to the same university as me but he’s still in the city. I know all the places that are good and the ones to avoid and I will not get sucked into the trap of thinking Clowns is the hippest place to strut one’s stuff.
I think I’m stepping over into ‘overly cynical’ now and I should stop before I make it sound like I’m not looking forward to Uni, when in fact I am. SOSO much. I can’t wait to start researching and writing essays again and to have a purpose other than sitting around, wasting the days I don’t work by getting stoned and watching Sabrina the Teenage Witch (though, I regret nothing).
Anywhoo, I’ve been working on a new poem to do with the change of season, out of coolness. (pun intended.) I actually only have the first line at the moment but I’m sure it’ll develop into something as equally unread and boring as the last one. I really hope this poetry society takes off, I want to be with like-minded people who are confident enough to be critical. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful to the people that do read my work and tell me they like it. It’s lovely. But I need criticism if I’m going to improve.
I’m STILL re-reading High Fidelity and it still makes me hate men. It’s extremely well written and I get one well with the style, I just really dislike the main character. That’s okay, though? :S
Today, I’m signing off with a favourite piece from dA: -
A white blood drop by ChiTorah
Ohhhh, it’s now technically afternoon! I think I’ll have some porridge. :]