My essay work station in the garden this time last year...
Although I enjoyed a short burst of regular posting on my blog in January and February, I have since fallen victim to the life-sucking, money-draining, sleep-depriving business otherwise known as my degree. Over the last couple of weeks I've spent weekdays in a semi-conscious routine of late nights and early mornings (and not in the totes fun PARTY ALL NIGHT sense that is most commonly associated with university students). My Saturdays are spent working part-time and Sundays I dedicate to working on my relationship...with my bed. He gets jealous when I spend too much time with my desk chair during the week and it's important to keep friendships strong in these stressful times. Besides, Sunday is the day of rest and if it's good enough for God, then it's certainly good enough for me.
Over Christmas I was actually f.r.e.a.k.i.n.g o.u.t at the prospect of returning to uni and having to write my dissertation alongside numerous other modular essays (a grand total of 22,000 words - wouldn't usually be a problem, but they have to be somewhat intelligent). I'm now less than two months away from finishing and you know what? I'm still here. I am slap bang in the middle of the violent throws of my university career which can one minute make you can feel on top of the world grasping a freshly printed essay, to then in the very next moment compel you to casually browse through all 360 of your instargram photos at 2 am in a bid to forget the miserable scholarly world in which you exist (err...just me?). However, I am existing. I don't know whether I thought I was going to disintegrate into thin air...or dissolve in the shower, but at the beginning of the semester I genuinely thought I was not going to survive. It's not over yet, but so far I'm actually doing OK (if you don't count the six grey hairs I discovered sprouting from my scalp the other day).
HAVING SAID THAT, if nothing else, this semester has certainly helped me to understand the obsession with coffee my lecturers and other grown-ups seem to have. Despite my Colombian heritage, I don't like coffee (I know, almost blasphemous) and I could never quite fathom why a non-coffee drinker would one day feel the need to randomly pick up a mug of what can only be described as El Diablo in liquid form. Now it's become quite clear that at the core of every coffee addict there is a stressed out undergraduate forcing themselves to work through the night for the umpteenth time. Yes, I've recently found myself on the hard stuff: black coffee - the stronger the better. In fact, I'd probably consume it sans water if I could....x
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