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March 19, 2012 | by  | in Opinion |
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Mulled Whine with H. G. Beattie

STAYING EXCITED ABOUT UNIVERSITY (TO BE TAKEN WITH A GRAIN OF SALT BECAUSE YOU MIGHT BE STUDYING SOMETHING CRAP)

The first couple of weeks of university are a smorgasbord of laughs. The horror of working full-time over summer has subsided and there’s very little work to be done save the war for decent tutorial times. You’re just not that busy. Is it possible to prolong this first-week excitement? Probably not. Your attendance gets fewer and further between. Plus the commitment to your SoundCloud fans gets ever more pressing. If you don’t lay down Sierra Leone over the Lion King theme tune, who the hell will? I don’t give advice, but if I did, this might be it.

You must not let the grass be greener. Staying excited relies on the memory of other, shittier times. Didn’t you spend summer sweltering in some polyester shirt? Smiling without your eyes at the spawn of Satan dragging greasy fingers across a glass case that you later had to clean? Nah, you’re better than that. You probably worked for your dad. Maybe you worked for a friend’s dad? (Note to self: do not introduce your smarter friends to your parents. Note to said smarter friend: you aren’t in the will. Run along now and work to pay for my holidays.) Like I say, the grass is not greener.

You must have interests. I don’t have hobbies myself, because I am a hermit. It is a lifestyle choice, the side effects of which include saying [to taxi drivers, on a rare Saturday night] “Doesn’t seeing all this make you sad?” They don’t respond, because they’re thinking “your fucking $10 fare makes me sad, prude.”

Anecdotes aside, I have it on excruciatingly good authority that hobbies pass time and facilitate conversation
at parties. “I take a photo of my own face every day as part of a time-lapse project.” “I visit old folks’ homes and sing James Blunt songs.” “I read in Cosmo that Moonhoppers are the new vibrators.”

(That last one not so much a hobbyas a lifestyle choice.) It must be noted that the Kardashian family do not count as an interest. Nor does hatred of the Kardashian family. If they come up in conversation, you’ve failed. I’ve typed the hateful name twice now. This puts me in something like the ninth circle of hell (treachery) AND it’ll also probably fuck with the ads that come up on the sidebar of my facebook.

And now, the real sermon: Enjoying your subject matter probably doesn’t go amiss either. If you don’t enjoy it, either shut up and stop doing it OR rejoice in the fact that if you continue, you’ll be able to afford a house full of Country Road mugs. That said, I too have waded the mangroves of 100-level commerce. I heartily encourage those dolefully wading behind me to attend lectures while being realistic and taking up crosswords. Or cross words. Swearing releases endorphins. Yay science.

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