A Brief Memoir of My University Experience
So, it's over. About a week ago, I came out of my final undergraduate exam. It was a difficult exam that I was massively underprepared for, but I hope I did not do so badly as to require a resit, or as to have pulled my average down from the aim of a 2:1 to a 2:2. If that does happen, I'm aware that I kind of deserve it. I lost my spirit with regard to revising for Italian, so I basically didn't. Let's just hope to god things go okay re other grades.
Well that was a depressing opening. I wanted this to be a retrospective about my time at uni and then a prospective about my future, but now I'm already a bit down from thinking about those exams. Dang. No worries, onwards with the show. I think what I'll do with this post is break down my time at uni as I remember it, year by year, reflecting on how I've grown. Then I'll consider the future briefly (tho I seem to do that often on this blog anyway). Here goes.
Pre-Uni
What bright and hopeful days -- on the precipice of freedom and hungry for personal development. I remember what I wanted to become: an explorer, someone engaged with people and discourse, a lover to somebody, anybody who would love me back, an intellectual. I distinctly remember promising to myself that I would shed my old insular ways, and during my years of university there would never be a day in which I allow myself to spend its entirety indoors. I would take a walk, anything, just to be engaged with the world. Oh, how wrong I was. But that's okay. I was idealistic about myself and who I could become. I sought to be Wildean and more extroverted than I am. But that's fine. Idealism is the spirit of progress -- one must aim to be a little better than they are, and adjust expectations as one goes along and grows. The alternative is complacency, pessimism, and a lack of ambition. However, idealism does mean one has to develop a way to deal with disappointment. This is something I have struggled with, but I think finally I am coming to terms with it. But we'll get to that. Let's move on to first year first.
1st Year
The major event of first year was meeting the failed love of my life. Oftentimes people allude to the love of their life, the person they felt intense and fiery passion for and with whom they formed a legitimate union that persists to their present day. But far less often do people talk about the failed love of their life. The exact same person, but for whatever reason something exploded and it didn't work out -- you were left a hollow shell of a person, the shards of what was once large and wholesome within you hurtling outwards like shrapnel. The failed love of my life was a girl called Annie -- I have mentioned her once before here. I still think about her to this day. She was a svelte girl, a little younger than me, from an international background with a wealth of life experience. There was something broken about her, but she had an elegant focus, a persistent forward-looking mentality. In my memories she moves in slow-motion and utters quiet profundities, layered with a constant veneer of sarcasm. There were a couple of things disastrous about our coming into each other's lives. First of all, we were both quite dramatic in our personal expression, in our approach to living life and understand ourselves -- so the dynamite was already there, should the occasion of a falling-out arise. Second of all, I had both a saviour complex and a desire myself to be saved, and she embodied the solution to both of these things. She was broken, and perhaps I could help fix her - but she was strong, intelligent, and focused -- perhaps she could also fix me. Altogether, she became somewhat deified in my mind -- I committed the cardinal sin of considering a person more than a person. I got jealous of her flirting with another dude at her birthday party, and we fell out. I was dramatic and it was largely my fault. I escaped from the party without a word, and they searched frantically for me. She didn't want to speak to me after that, but I needed her, and kicked up a fuss. She wouldn't back down, and so I declared that I would cut all ties. A dramatic fool. I haven't spoken to her since. I know she has a boyfriend now. Or had -- I haven't checked recently. I loved her intensely, but it didn't work out. What it did teach me though was how intense and passionate love feels like, and although mine for her may have been dysfunctional, I know in my heart that something of that flame must exist for any future romantic endeavours I pursue.
I think this was the beginning of a more humbled figure of myself. I was cracked after this, and had to remake myself. And remake myself I did. I rose the ranks of the philosophy society and was elected its president by the end of the year. I was the best candidate for the job, basically, as I was one of the most frequent attenders and one of the most interested in philosophy. Which brings us, I think, to my second year.
2nd Year
I should mention something right away, that I forgot to mention from the previous year. Towards the end of first year, I began to get close with what I will term as my first girlfriend. I don't know if she perceives me as an ex-boyfriend because we only dated for a few weeks before summer began, but we went out with each other and we very nearly had sex, but I was too drunk and inexperienced for it to be successful. In any case, second year begins with her suddenly dumping me. Wow, what a beginning of a new chapter. This was another blow to my confidence, another crack in my shell. It hurt more than I expected, because for the longest time I wasn't even sure if I liked her that much. Turns out I did, and it hurt. I remember the songs I listened to on repeat to soothe the pain. I still can't really speak to her today. In any case, there was a year to proceed with, presidential duties to attend to. And so I did.
Being the president of the philosophy society was an experience that I concede I wasn't truly ready for. It was one step beyond me; I wasn't as confident or organised as I ought to have been to take that office. But I did it. I don't have many interesting insights about it. I did it just barely competently. I wasn't a great president and I had much help. Things ran. However, I think it was worth doing, for the reasons I mentioned in the "pre-uni" chapter. One should do things just beyond them, and learn from it, and adjust their expectations of life accordingly.
This was also the year I first had successful sex, the year I began a friends-with-benefits relationship with a girl that would become my girlfriend in third year. I wasn't in love with her and I wrote about it here. It was only sexual in nature, but we were good friends, and when one is physically intimate and you enjoy each other's company generally speaking, one begins to question why one isn't together. I had my reasons that I won't go over now, but they were challenged in third year, and they soon crumbled, and we got together. But more on that in the next year.
This year was dominated by heart-break, commitments that were beyond me, and sex. I also became a better philosopher and a worse Italian in this year -- two things that in retrospect should have been much more salient to me, that I should have paid much more attention to, but I didn't. I ignored it, because the status quo is easier to go with -- plus I really wanted to go to Italy.
3rd Year
This was potentially the hardest year of my life to date. I moved to Bologna, Italy, where I was supposed to sharpen my Italian language skills and have a wondrous year of development. Instead what happened was, I was beset with anxiety and felt incredibly out of my comfort zone. If one should always do something a step beyond oneself to develop, this was a mile beyond me. I didn't know it going in, but it was something I absolutely should not have done at the time. The presidency of second year -- yes. Going abroad to live in the Italian language in third year? No, no, no.
Frankly, I don't even want to relive the anxiety of that year right now, but it was bad. I've written of it elsewhere. I will mention some other things instead. I developed a strong crush for this Italian-German girl, but anxieties precluded anything developing, and this made me mad at myself, which didn't help my emotional state during the year.
I got through that year through the skin of my teeth. I tried very hard to get out of it, but bureaucracy precluded it. To this day, I believe it has made me a more anxious person. I hope this isn't a permanent personality alteration and that some day it will wear off, like the radiation living out its half-life. We'll see. In any case, during this terrible time, my fuck-buddy and I met up a couple of times, and she was always there for me online, and we finally decided we would get together in the summer of that year. This marks the beginning of my longest relationship to date.
That was going to be the neat segue into fourth year, but I should mention that I did take this year to travel and experience a lot of the Italian peninsula. My anxiety increased, but so did my independence. The year made me both stronger and weaker. It was an incredible time, a demanding experience. As to whether I would have done it had I known, the answer is up in the air. I lean towards no, but it definitely developed me.
4th Year
The final year. Most of my friends that I had known from the first two years had disappeared (read: graduated -- don't know why I wrote it that way) and it was a quiet time socially, principally spent with my new girlfriend. The focus was academics, which was very difficult for me, because at this point I almost despised myself and my classes in Italian. My anxiety grew worse and my attendance plummeted at certain points in the year. My grades certainly suffered for it. I definitely deserved and perhaps should have sought out a councillor, but I have always been an independent person, and although part of me knew my mental health was at an all-time low, I still didn't think it was bad enough to seek help. I know in my heart now that it was, but all the same I didn't seek it. But it's over now, and I can only wait to see what happens in a few weeks when I get my overall degree classification. I need a 2:1 to get into masters programmes, but as described in the introduction to this post, I am uncertain about what will happen.
I grew closer to my girlfriend and we persisted throughout the entire year. I grew to love her, but there was always a part of me that felt this can't be it -- this can't be the person I'm going to stay with forever. I felt more strongly for Annie, and I felt more towards my short-lived first girlfriend. I stayed with this girl mostly because it was comfortable and it seemed to make more sense to have consistent companionship and consistent sex. Why would I give that up? But, again, there was always a part of me that desired others, wanted more -- so, with guilt, I looked forward to the end of uni, so that I could reasonably break-up with her. And that's where I am now. We have broken up and after nearly a year of being in a relationship, I am single. I don't feel bad. I don't feel exactly good either, though. I am liberated, but I'm not certain when anything will come of that liberation. But I know I've done the right thing. I needed a fierier passion towards the person I commit to, and my passion was one of mere comfort, almost from the beginning with this girl. I am aware that most relationships do eventually develop into ones of comfort, but (perhaps in my youthful naivety), I believe they should at least start with a fiery, romantic passion. Now I must just await that day.
Post-uni
If things go well, I will get into a masters programme. I have been accepted by King's College London to study philosophy, but I need to receive a 2:1. Then, if I do get in, I need to figure out how to live in London, the most expensive city in the UK. I will probably have to get a part-time job, though I don't know how I will balance studying with that. Plus I want to continue writing, but I imagine I will be swamped. It's going to be difficult, but again, I believe one must do that which is just one step beyond them to develop. This sounds about right for me, and it's what I want to do. We'll see, though.
If it doesn't work out, it's just more life experience, and something else will have to be figured out. Life is just a game in which experience points are to be raked up. Onwards with the game. Onwards with the game.
Well that was a depressing opening. I wanted this to be a retrospective about my time at uni and then a prospective about my future, but now I'm already a bit down from thinking about those exams. Dang. No worries, onwards with the show. I think what I'll do with this post is break down my time at uni as I remember it, year by year, reflecting on how I've grown. Then I'll consider the future briefly (tho I seem to do that often on this blog anyway). Here goes.
Pre-Uni
What bright and hopeful days -- on the precipice of freedom and hungry for personal development. I remember what I wanted to become: an explorer, someone engaged with people and discourse, a lover to somebody, anybody who would love me back, an intellectual. I distinctly remember promising to myself that I would shed my old insular ways, and during my years of university there would never be a day in which I allow myself to spend its entirety indoors. I would take a walk, anything, just to be engaged with the world. Oh, how wrong I was. But that's okay. I was idealistic about myself and who I could become. I sought to be Wildean and more extroverted than I am. But that's fine. Idealism is the spirit of progress -- one must aim to be a little better than they are, and adjust expectations as one goes along and grows. The alternative is complacency, pessimism, and a lack of ambition. However, idealism does mean one has to develop a way to deal with disappointment. This is something I have struggled with, but I think finally I am coming to terms with it. But we'll get to that. Let's move on to first year first.
1st Year
The major event of first year was meeting the failed love of my life. Oftentimes people allude to the love of their life, the person they felt intense and fiery passion for and with whom they formed a legitimate union that persists to their present day. But far less often do people talk about the failed love of their life. The exact same person, but for whatever reason something exploded and it didn't work out -- you were left a hollow shell of a person, the shards of what was once large and wholesome within you hurtling outwards like shrapnel. The failed love of my life was a girl called Annie -- I have mentioned her once before here. I still think about her to this day. She was a svelte girl, a little younger than me, from an international background with a wealth of life experience. There was something broken about her, but she had an elegant focus, a persistent forward-looking mentality. In my memories she moves in slow-motion and utters quiet profundities, layered with a constant veneer of sarcasm. There were a couple of things disastrous about our coming into each other's lives. First of all, we were both quite dramatic in our personal expression, in our approach to living life and understand ourselves -- so the dynamite was already there, should the occasion of a falling-out arise. Second of all, I had both a saviour complex and a desire myself to be saved, and she embodied the solution to both of these things. She was broken, and perhaps I could help fix her - but she was strong, intelligent, and focused -- perhaps she could also fix me. Altogether, she became somewhat deified in my mind -- I committed the cardinal sin of considering a person more than a person. I got jealous of her flirting with another dude at her birthday party, and we fell out. I was dramatic and it was largely my fault. I escaped from the party without a word, and they searched frantically for me. She didn't want to speak to me after that, but I needed her, and kicked up a fuss. She wouldn't back down, and so I declared that I would cut all ties. A dramatic fool. I haven't spoken to her since. I know she has a boyfriend now. Or had -- I haven't checked recently. I loved her intensely, but it didn't work out. What it did teach me though was how intense and passionate love feels like, and although mine for her may have been dysfunctional, I know in my heart that something of that flame must exist for any future romantic endeavours I pursue.
I think this was the beginning of a more humbled figure of myself. I was cracked after this, and had to remake myself. And remake myself I did. I rose the ranks of the philosophy society and was elected its president by the end of the year. I was the best candidate for the job, basically, as I was one of the most frequent attenders and one of the most interested in philosophy. Which brings us, I think, to my second year.
2nd Year
I should mention something right away, that I forgot to mention from the previous year. Towards the end of first year, I began to get close with what I will term as my first girlfriend. I don't know if she perceives me as an ex-boyfriend because we only dated for a few weeks before summer began, but we went out with each other and we very nearly had sex, but I was too drunk and inexperienced for it to be successful. In any case, second year begins with her suddenly dumping me. Wow, what a beginning of a new chapter. This was another blow to my confidence, another crack in my shell. It hurt more than I expected, because for the longest time I wasn't even sure if I liked her that much. Turns out I did, and it hurt. I remember the songs I listened to on repeat to soothe the pain. I still can't really speak to her today. In any case, there was a year to proceed with, presidential duties to attend to. And so I did.
Being the president of the philosophy society was an experience that I concede I wasn't truly ready for. It was one step beyond me; I wasn't as confident or organised as I ought to have been to take that office. But I did it. I don't have many interesting insights about it. I did it just barely competently. I wasn't a great president and I had much help. Things ran. However, I think it was worth doing, for the reasons I mentioned in the "pre-uni" chapter. One should do things just beyond them, and learn from it, and adjust their expectations of life accordingly.
This was also the year I first had successful sex, the year I began a friends-with-benefits relationship with a girl that would become my girlfriend in third year. I wasn't in love with her and I wrote about it here. It was only sexual in nature, but we were good friends, and when one is physically intimate and you enjoy each other's company generally speaking, one begins to question why one isn't together. I had my reasons that I won't go over now, but they were challenged in third year, and they soon crumbled, and we got together. But more on that in the next year.
This year was dominated by heart-break, commitments that were beyond me, and sex. I also became a better philosopher and a worse Italian in this year -- two things that in retrospect should have been much more salient to me, that I should have paid much more attention to, but I didn't. I ignored it, because the status quo is easier to go with -- plus I really wanted to go to Italy.
3rd Year
This was potentially the hardest year of my life to date. I moved to Bologna, Italy, where I was supposed to sharpen my Italian language skills and have a wondrous year of development. Instead what happened was, I was beset with anxiety and felt incredibly out of my comfort zone. If one should always do something a step beyond oneself to develop, this was a mile beyond me. I didn't know it going in, but it was something I absolutely should not have done at the time. The presidency of second year -- yes. Going abroad to live in the Italian language in third year? No, no, no.
Frankly, I don't even want to relive the anxiety of that year right now, but it was bad. I've written of it elsewhere. I will mention some other things instead. I developed a strong crush for this Italian-German girl, but anxieties precluded anything developing, and this made me mad at myself, which didn't help my emotional state during the year.
I got through that year through the skin of my teeth. I tried very hard to get out of it, but bureaucracy precluded it. To this day, I believe it has made me a more anxious person. I hope this isn't a permanent personality alteration and that some day it will wear off, like the radiation living out its half-life. We'll see. In any case, during this terrible time, my fuck-buddy and I met up a couple of times, and she was always there for me online, and we finally decided we would get together in the summer of that year. This marks the beginning of my longest relationship to date.
That was going to be the neat segue into fourth year, but I should mention that I did take this year to travel and experience a lot of the Italian peninsula. My anxiety increased, but so did my independence. The year made me both stronger and weaker. It was an incredible time, a demanding experience. As to whether I would have done it had I known, the answer is up in the air. I lean towards no, but it definitely developed me.
4th Year
The final year. Most of my friends that I had known from the first two years had disappeared (read: graduated -- don't know why I wrote it that way) and it was a quiet time socially, principally spent with my new girlfriend. The focus was academics, which was very difficult for me, because at this point I almost despised myself and my classes in Italian. My anxiety grew worse and my attendance plummeted at certain points in the year. My grades certainly suffered for it. I definitely deserved and perhaps should have sought out a councillor, but I have always been an independent person, and although part of me knew my mental health was at an all-time low, I still didn't think it was bad enough to seek help. I know in my heart now that it was, but all the same I didn't seek it. But it's over now, and I can only wait to see what happens in a few weeks when I get my overall degree classification. I need a 2:1 to get into masters programmes, but as described in the introduction to this post, I am uncertain about what will happen.
I grew closer to my girlfriend and we persisted throughout the entire year. I grew to love her, but there was always a part of me that felt this can't be it -- this can't be the person I'm going to stay with forever. I felt more strongly for Annie, and I felt more towards my short-lived first girlfriend. I stayed with this girl mostly because it was comfortable and it seemed to make more sense to have consistent companionship and consistent sex. Why would I give that up? But, again, there was always a part of me that desired others, wanted more -- so, with guilt, I looked forward to the end of uni, so that I could reasonably break-up with her. And that's where I am now. We have broken up and after nearly a year of being in a relationship, I am single. I don't feel bad. I don't feel exactly good either, though. I am liberated, but I'm not certain when anything will come of that liberation. But I know I've done the right thing. I needed a fierier passion towards the person I commit to, and my passion was one of mere comfort, almost from the beginning with this girl. I am aware that most relationships do eventually develop into ones of comfort, but (perhaps in my youthful naivety), I believe they should at least start with a fiery, romantic passion. Now I must just await that day.
Post-uni
If things go well, I will get into a masters programme. I have been accepted by King's College London to study philosophy, but I need to receive a 2:1. Then, if I do get in, I need to figure out how to live in London, the most expensive city in the UK. I will probably have to get a part-time job, though I don't know how I will balance studying with that. Plus I want to continue writing, but I imagine I will be swamped. It's going to be difficult, but again, I believe one must do that which is just one step beyond them to develop. This sounds about right for me, and it's what I want to do. We'll see, though.
If it doesn't work out, it's just more life experience, and something else will have to be figured out. Life is just a game in which experience points are to be raked up. Onwards with the game. Onwards with the game.
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