Tag Archives: University

#dissiskillingme

Besides the Orange Room, and the old faithful, 1C, the newly renovated I-Lounge may just be the hub of the University of Birmingham’s Main Library. Home to the early-bird students who prefer working in the greenhouse effect to the icy chill of other floors, the I-lounge serves coffee when we need it most and tempts us with muffins when we’re penniless. It is in the I-Lounge where I started to think about my latest blog, whilst on a quick-trip from my desk to fill my water bottle up (who says I ain’t leading the high-life?!)…

Third year has turned us all into crazy people, animals who wander around the library until midnight with tongues hanging out and odd socks on, caffeine-ed up to our eyeballs. And part of the desirable third year package is an agonising hope that someone may be worse off than you. And that maybe, just maybe, you won’t get the lowest mark in the class.

When crossing a few coursemates in my now-fully-H2o’d-state, the immediate reaction was mixed. The still-properly-working-human inside me was pleased to recognise a familiar face, a friend perhaps whom I hadn’t seen for weeks. I wanted to know how they were, how many Easter eggs they got and most importantly when we’re all next going out for that drink. The student in me enquired how their workload was going and whether they had found that elusive article on WebCT that we needed to read for Jim’s class. And the frantic-working-to-the-deadline-freaking-out-dissertation-writer in me buzzed, interrogating them as to how far they’d got with the word count, how many sources they’d referenced and how many more days they were going to need to write. Am I the only one who’s freaking out? Are they ahead of me? Am I behind? They’re struggling? Great, I’m not the only one…

In a time of desperation, we seem to thrive on other’s misfortunes. We all know the burst of excitement (albeit small) when you see all of your coursemates on Facebook the night before the deadline, all ignoring each other in an unspoken recognition of your naughtiness. And the secret smirk you give when you hear of someone who wrote ‘fuck this’ in the middle of an essay as a joke that they no longer found funny once they’d handed the essay in…

The tiara; proof that I was still very much in a delusional Royal Wedding state…

1 Comment

Filed under Life, University