Ten things I hate about university… Part 1

Every silver-lining has a cloud

So Douglas Adams explained the state of things in his book, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe. Okay, so maybe you’re not seeing where I’m going with this. Well, I’ll be honest, there have been times at university when I’ve thought: okay, so making the universe was a bad move: but second only to this was my coming to uni. In a two-part blog, I’m going to give you my top ten reasons why…

1. Okay, so, it’s Freshers’ Week. You don’t really know anyone. What’s the most logical thing to do?

Ah, yes. Cut the end off your thumb, of course! Why didn’t I do that?

Oh, yes. That’s right. I did.

Yes, this was one of my first, “I really shouldn’t be allowed to live on my own” moments. Possibly the first time at uni that it really sank in that I couldn’t just go home and have my parents make everything better. I was cooking, feeling all independent and everything, and what do I do? Just go and chop the end off my thumb, leaving a bit behind on the chopping board and making an excellent first impression on my horrified flatmates.

Yes. Wasn’t my finest moment.

2. Next? Well, it has to be the whole meeting new people thing. Not that meeting new people is bad – in fact, the complete opposite – except when these people are trying too hard to be someone they’re not. Whether it’s to fit in or to stand out, this has highly annoyed me. There have been a few people I’ve met, who I’ve often wanted to slap, and shout, “stop being ridiculous and hypocritical – this isn’t you!” at. But, not only do these people try to be somebody else, but they end up blaming you for their faults when they find it difficult to keep their act up.

Not many, mind. But enough. And when some of them are blockmates, life can get rather awkward.

3. Third on the list has got to be course related. Annoying seminar times to say the least.

I’m going to be incredibly cliché here, but I hate 9.15s. There was a time, when I could have easily made these everyday. But it seems now, however much sleep I get, I always feel the compulsion to fall asleep if I have to concentrate at 9.15 in the morning. It seems more than simply a year or so ago when such times were normal.

I also hate 5.15s. By 2pm I’m ready to switch off for the day – therefore a lecture or seminar this late is never going to have my full attention. Thinking about what to cook for dinner. Whether to stay in or go out.

It is never a good time.

Also, in winter: being in a class when it’s dark outside?

I’d rather not.

4. Another general problem – this time: adjusting to the “student lifestyle”.

All through my sixth form years, one of the things that kept me working so hard was the promise of this amazing “student lifestyle” of late nights and lie-ins. Of being able to eat what you want, when you want. Of being free.

I soon discovered that while every cloud has a silver-lining, every silver-lining has a cloud. And some are greyer than others.

First off, we aren’t free – we have classes to attend and books to read and essays to write that we can’t just ignore. Secondly, attending said classes becomes very, very difficult when only 4 or 5 hours of sleep has been had the night before. Or morning before, as is far more often the case.

And eating whatever you want, when you want, can soon become a bit dull. Having to cook everything for myself soon became tiresome after a stressful day: as I said before, we can’t live on ice cream forever, and the same applies to chocolate Weetabix (damn Costcutters’ recent offer!) and broken biscuits.

I also never paid much attention to what I ate before, but the lack of fruit and fresh meals does catch up with you. There have been weeks when I’ve been tired all the time. And getting ill is a far commoner occurrence than it ever was at home. As a result, my sleeping pattern has disappeared, and sleeping in shifts of a couple of hours at a time throughout the day (basically whenever I can) has become the norm this term.

5. The fifth issue on my list has definitely got to be the times when looking after a drunk friend, or even acquaintance, has been necessary.

The average person, when seeing someone in a state of extreme inebriation, will step in to offer a helping hand, even if it’s just to call a taxi or hand them a bucket. A few notable times this term I’ve had to walk drunken friends home from events, once even with someone clutching a washing-up bowl and staggering at a snail’s pace and insisting we were walking too fast. And then shouting abuse at random strangers.

But this is fine. While annoying, especially when it’s a stranger, this situation is generally no more than a future banter resource. However, it becomes more awkward when the person you have to deal with is one that you don’t really get on with. Whether it’s stopping them making idiots of themselves, comforting them when they’re abandoned in clubs, or receiving angry/flirty texts from them at 4 in the morning: these situations are not enviable.

Keep checking The Yorker for That Girl’s second blog on bad university experiences later this week. And next week: Ten things I love about university.

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