Susie is disheartened

I’ve been shocked this week by how much people are changing now they’re away. Some of my closest friends are turning into people I neither know nor respect, and I don’t know how to react to it. People change, slowly or quickly, it doesn’t matter, it happens. What right have I got to tell these people that they aren’t allowed to, that they have to remain the person that I knew and loved all these years?

I suppose it’s a natural part of uni really. I suppose I just wasn’t really prepared for it, and that’s why it’s hit me so hard today. I’m scared that we’re all going to come back to essex from our various places around the country and not even be able to talk to each other anymore. In some cases, I won’t mourn that loss desperately hard, but in others, it may ruin me.

And ultimately I don’t know if I’m changing to. I mean, originally there was just one person I noticed a change in, but now there are more and more, and I’m wondering if I’m on the list. I don’t even know if I desperately want to be off the list. I don’t for one second think that the ‘old me’ (if there is one) was perfect and all I ever want to be; but I am scared that I could be completely losing sight of her and not even realising it.

Everyone does some stupid things, right? Everyone does things that aren’t really ‘them’, especially when they first go away and they’re with new people. God knows I did. Deep down I’m hoping that that’s all this is, and that my friends are still my friends, somewhere.

Susie is getting used to this shiz

After a rather over-enthusiastic return to blogging in the first week of uni, it seems I have quite swiftly slipped back into my old ways of feeling like I might want to write something but never really getting round to it – no doubt because I have found a new episode of America’s Next Top Model that simply needs watching.

Susie is turning into a bit of an ANTM addict; further proof that if you deny someone something for long enough, they will eventually want it more than they ever would have if you had just given it to them in the first place.

Anyway, what has happened recentement? The flat has settled down a lot, as I guess one would expect. We’re all working out a little more about each other, how often we’ll be seeing each other, how often we want to be seeing each other – all that jazz. I’ve properly started the course now (Drama, for those of you who didn’t know/forgot) and I’m actually enjoying it as much as I thought I would. I’ve got a fairly light schedule; okay, who am I kidding, I’ve got a piss-easy schedule. I Have 8 contact hours a week, over three days (giving me 4 full days off a week) and 4 or 5 hours of ‘compulsory unsupervised practise’, which so far we haven’t used. It’s a pretty sweet life if I’m honest. My earliest seminar is 11am, meaning every day is pretty much a lie-in, even if I do have to be woken by my alarm. And all the time I have not in seminars is mine to do with whatever I like. As long as I get the (so far fairly moderate) work done, or at least appear to, all is well.

I do of course have one module that takes pretentious pseudo-artistic bullshit to a whole new level. The course summary for ‘Languages of the Body’ looked bearable, it dropped some names of practitioners whose work I actually respect. I then turn up to the introductory seminar and am made to walk around the room and make eye contact with people and ‘if I feel the moment leads me to’ to tell them my name. Alright, I can accept that, it’s a ‘getting to know you’ sort of exercise with some sort of vague theatrical link. But as soon as the course director mentions exploring (everything is explored in drama, never looked at or studied, always explored) and crossing the fine line between theatre and dance, I am quite certain the module is not really for me. This ‘fine line’ which to me seems less of a fine line and more of a glaringly obvious motorway full of cars and big trucks and the occasional dead animal – not really meant to be crossed.

Other than this one module I have great respect for my lecturers and faith in their sanity.

Susie is maybe a little too sentimental for this life

An update. Right now, it’s 06.25. By the time I finish and upload this, it’ll probably be 7am. As I look outside, I can see the sun rising. And I haven’t even gone to bed yet.

THIS IS UNI.

Earlier today, I wasn’t feeling great. I guess I just wanted to be around people with whom I didn’t have to make an effort. Last night, I was invited out by people on my course; people who I’d spent all day ‘getting to know’, learning the names of etc. I told them that I would see what my flatmates wanted to do, because I hadn’t seen them in a while. Really, all I wanted was to talk to people without asking their names, be in the same room with people without making conversation, be without conversation with people without feeling awkward. I think it was a pretty good job we all went to bed early, because even flatmate time isn’t even completely relaxing at this point. I still feel like I have to make a bit of an effort, I still feel like I have to really concentrate on conversation, and I still feel like laughter is something that is either very deliberately provoked or quite deliberately delivered.

This morning and today, this feeling has only got worse, to be honest. All I want is to speak to really old friends (which is why I’ve been a bit of a text/facebook loser). Beyond that, I need to talk to some boys. Despite my deepest wishes, I’m in a very girl-heavy flat. The talk about shoes and film stars and boys is only going so far, and I really need to talk to some people who will call me names and laugh at me a bit. We took a trip to ikea, and I think I may have been fairly bed company a lot of the time; because every now and then I would make the effort to laugh or say something funny, other than that, I was fairly gormless. I thought about other things and wished I was with other people. I guess that’s what people these days call HOMESICK. I reckon that’s what I am. It’s never really happened before and I don’t think it has anything to do with being at home (although it might to, maybe I just miss the sofa and the bed and being lazy) but more the people I’m used to being around. Meeting new people happens fairly naturally for me, granted there is a lot of trepidation, but I don’t find it difficult once the conversation has begun. None the less, I think I’m struggling to keep up so many new relationships so soon. I want to sink back into old ones which are comfortable and easy.

It’s a good job I have nothing to do tomorrow. I think I may spend most of the day in bed, in my room, or talking to old friends; because right now I really miss it.

Susie is amazed that she is finished by 06.41; she has a lot more to talk about but it will have to wait until tomorrow, because right now it is bed time.

Susie is a proper student

So once again, I’m a little drunk. This time, it’s 4.30am (fairly regular) and I’ve spent the entire evening with my flatmates (unreal). I’ve thought for quite a while (and by that, I mean an hour or two) about whether or not I’m going to tell my uni friends about this blog. As far as I know, none of them will find a link to it – if there’s one in a public place, let me know. So basically, it’s been my choice, either I tell them it exists; or I let it be a place where I can actually talk about the things that are interesting/exciting/bothering me, without the worry of someone getting offended.

I moved in on Saturday, it’s now Wednesday morning, technically. So the first day, I was terrified. I wish I could say I was just excited; but if I really think about it, the things I was excited about were learning what my new room was like, getting a key, and putting all my toiletries in place. Let’s be honest, all those things were exciting (except the last, where I discovered that every Thursday my bathroom has to be completely cleared for the cleaners); exactly as exciting as I thought and very very good. I moved in and I found a place that was my own, and it was refreshing and exciting and brilliant. Then there was the problem of making friends. The one person, Emily, who I met online, would not be here for a whole day. So the easy ‘I already know you’ conversation was out the window. I would have to start the real conversations; asking names and finding things out about each other.

The whole time, I was pretty nervous, in the bad way. I got crabby and irritated with my parents being around pretty quickly, because I wanted to unpack and people I vaguely knew were speaking to me online about QM (Queen Mary, University of London – I may as well elaborate, because I never have before and no one from here will ever read this) and all I wanted to do was empty my boxes and start properly living here. After the first night, I knew exactly how the flat would work. There was Mr and Mrs Cardiff – not an actual married couple, but seemingly so. Very lovely, but they had obviously chosen halls together, and even 4 days later, they are still fairly segregated. There were also a load of American people, who frankly scared me a bit, because they were obviously older. I had prepared myself to talk to freshers; people who were in the same boat as me, but these girls were international students – here for a semester, and completely not what I was expecting.

Turns out they are a lot of fun. Also in the group is Eve who seems like a massive air-head and the last sort of person I would choose to talk to; but there we go. I suppose I should count myself lucky that there’s only one of her in my flat. She likes to talk about how many people she’s screwed and how many parties she’s been to and what crazy stuff happened there. I couldn’t care less, and she doesn’t even say it in an interesting way, but it looks like I’m going to have to be her friend for a while, so I guess I’ll get used to it.

Susie is so fucked if her uni friends ever learn about this page. Seriously, if there’s any link to it anywhere online, please let her know, because she needs to get rid of it.

Finally in the flat, is Tom. His boyfriend helped him move in and stayed for a day or two. His 29 year old boyfriend, who is nowhere near good enough for him. Tom is facially alright but not desperately hot, but his body is wonderful. He walks sexy, he stands sexy, he even stirs pasta sexy. He’s my new gay best friend, and I’m so happy about it. Emily, my facebook friend and I, will watch him anyday. And the more drunk we all get, the more I am confessing to him that I love him a little bit. So far he has taken it as a compliment, so it’s all good. Emily (Brenda) and I look to be friends for a long time. We'e similar in all the good ways, I think. It's likely that we will be best friends for years. I've already told her about the situation with Ally, and she understands pretty well I think. She's already given me a nickname (Chelmsford, the town I went to school in, because she saw a sign for it and she thought I actually lived there), and it's sad how special it makes me feel, and how excited I am about being 'Chelmsford' for years.

Anyway, other than the rundown of my flatmates, I guess there are other things I could talk about. There’s a lot of talk about sex here. I’m surprised by how much it surprised me. As much as I knew that all-over-the-place sex was sort-of common-place these days, I think that was something I didn’t prepare myself for. Maybe it’s because they’re trying to impress each other, or maybe it’s because they’re actually that sex-crazed, it seems to be a hot topic of conversation at the moment. Eve seems to bring up the stories because we’ll think we’ll respect her for it; Emily seems to have had fairly similar experiences to me, except with the occasional screw; Tom seems a little more subtle about it, but it’s quite obvious he was a bit of a slut in the past. Ok, so sex stories don’t bother me, I’ll listen to them, I’ll talk about them. But at the end of the day, I’m a virgin, and I’m not ashamed of it. I think sex is for long term relationships (if not marriage) and generally, only harm comes from anything outside of that. The stories I’ve heard only confirm that feeling. I expect my flatmates have picked up that I’m not going to share any stories about a time I’ve fucked some guy and he’s completely ignored me in the morning; I hope they’ve realised that it’s because that kind of story doesn’t interest me, and because I wouldn’t ever get myself in that kind of situation.

Maybe it’s just tonight (and maybe the night before) that have been so sex-orientated. Maybe once we’re over this getting-to-know-each-other stage, it’ll die down a little. I’m not too bothered if it does or doesn’t, but if did surprise me how surprised I was by it. This is the 21st century, I feel like I should have expected it from new uni friends.

One of the American girls said that she was a virgin too, and a 19 year old. If all else fails it looks like it’s her I’ll be talking too. I wish that didn’t have to be the case.

Susie is yes, officially drunk. Vodka and then crappy wine make her more honest (apparently) and more willing to bother blogging. She has to wake up in 4 and a half hours, so this blog is so over.