The Best Days of Your Life?

In many respects, I am at that point in my University life (granted all two months of it) in which I am beginning to question my very purpose of being here. It may seem a little late now to be asking myself the question “do I really want to be here?” but, truth be told, that is currently where I am. As I write this at my desk in my room surrounded by papers of varying importance, complication and intimidation, I despairingly think of my reasoning behind putting myself in this situation. Before applying to any establishment I was sat down by various people at my college and told the same old things repeatedly; “at University you won’t be ‘spoon-fed’,” “there’s an awful lot of private research time,” “you have to be motivated,” e.t.c. At the time I was having this shoved down my throat, I guess I didn’t really process it. As with health and safety talks, the pre-flight emergency procedure on an aeroplane and the terms and conditions on television competitions, I heard but didn’t really listen. In hindsight, I actually quite enjoyed being ‘spoon-fed’ at college, I don’t really work very well when studying in isolation (after all, who actually likes homework?) and I find it quite hard to motivate myself to a point where I feel comfortable enough to crack off three 1,700 word essays in one sitting, all on a different subject.

Why then, did I apply for University? All of the things I was warned about having to do, I hated doing. I had a choice. Why didn’t I stay away from the things that I had hated since I turned up to my first day at Primary School all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed? I suspect, on reflection, the reason is simple. I felt I had to. I can’t remember a time in which University was never on the cards for me. For me, it seemed like a natural process; Primary School, Secondary School, College, University. I never envisaged my life having not gone to University. It was natural. Really though, what else could I have done having finished College? An apprenticeship? No thank you. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against them. I’m not some sort of academic snob (trust me, I’ve met a few) who feels that University is the only path to follow. For some, an apprenticeship is exactly what the doctor ordered. I know a couple of people, extremely good friends at that, who have gone on to do apprenticeships and they love it. Getting paid to learn, who would argue with that? I could never do an apprenticeship though. The reason being that I am, admittedly, work-shy. I worked in McDonalds for just over a year and I hated it. In some ways, although to date that has been my only job, it has put me off work of that nature forever. The prospect of a 9-5 day essentially doing ‘a job’ at this point in my life, scares the living crap out of me. I’ll pass thanks.

So apart from that and signing on, University was really the only other measured option. People will often tell you that your days at University are often “the best days of your entire life” (now where have I heard that before?) and in many ways I would agree with them. Apart from having no money, a constant and ridiculous amount of work to do in literally no time, a constant and ridiculous amount of reading to do in literally no time and realising for the first week or so that you’ve essentially moved to a new city having left behind most, if not all, of your family and closest friends, yes; I would agree.

Having read this back to myself, I have detected, as some of you may have done, a certain pessimism in my writing. I have the potential to be a fairly pessimistic and sarcastic so-and-so. It’s just in my nature. At times I can be, if you like, the Charlie Brooker or David Mitchell of the everyday. Having said that, I feel I may have been somewhat unfair on the almighty establishment that is ‘Higher Education.’ I do not hate it per se. At current, I am just struggling to find its purpose in my life. I am enjoying my course and very much like the people it has allowed me to meet. But after three years, then what? Sometimes I feel like I am racking up this ridiculous debt in order to simply delay having to find a job. I suppose that’s what these next few years are for; to understand what it is I want to achieve in life like some sort of heinously expensive Psychiatrist appointment. We’ll see. Anyway, that’s enough from me. These essays aren’t going to write themselves.