How I became a Teenage Dirtbag

I remember the morning before we drove up on move-in day in October very well. My mum and I went shopping to stock me up with food supplies. We brought fresh potatoes, bread, chicken, fruit and veg. Also, some frozen goods, and a few snacks. I imagined there would be say, one fridge for 3 people. Unfortunately on arrival I was horror-struck to find instead of a kitchen, we had what was labelled a ‘pantry’. Without even having enough chairs for the 10 people on my floor, and only two medium sized fridge-freezer combos, it was way too small to harbour the ingredients I had brought.

Of course one person cannot get through so many fresh ingredients in the allotted time before they go off, so I was forced to buy only frozen goods from then on. Alas, this is not the end of the world; I hear frozen veg is as equally nutritious as fresh vegetables. This meant I now constantly have to buy food as there is no room to have a big shop, which has led me into the routine of getting microwavable fish pies on a nearly daily basis which not the healthiest of dishes.

However this was just the beginning of my troubles. Immediately after starting, I began a descent into a world of copious drinking and habitual all-nighters. I was pretty much independent at home anyway, so I could stay out as long as I wanted, but being in halls is different. There is constantly music blaring and you have your friends around you who are generally always up to get crunk for ‘jokes’, so I was basically led down the path of drinking heavily on a regular basis. It’s all in good jest though, and I can’t say I don’t enjoy it, because I love it. But I imagine if my liver could speak, it would probably be screaming profanities at me. Also, if I am to go out, I can’t go out sober. If I go to the pub, I don’t see the point in drinking an alcoholic beverage unless it is to become intoxicated, so if I have one drink, I’ve basically already decided I’m going to get wasted.

As all students know, any night out must end with a greasy meal. I have the added pressures of being Turkish, so I am an expert on rating a good quality kebab from a low quality donner. In the time I’ve spent here so far, I have become well acquainted with Efes (pronounced Eh-fez not Eh-fees and is the Turkish name for the Ancient Greek city of Ephesus), Yummy Chicken and of course Salt & Pepper. I used to think McDonald's was bad, but when you have a greasy Calzone Kiev 3 days in a row you know things have got a lot worse. The main problem with these delicious takeaways is that although I know it’s so wrong, it feels so right. Plus I have put on weight, and now that summer has arrived and I want to be topless most of the time I'm feeling pretty awful.

Also since arriving at University I have become a budding writer, divulging into creative writing and journalistic pieces. But to be a credible and successful writer everyone knows you must have a cup of coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Consequently I am now a smoker. It's wrong I know, but one drag on those minty cancer sticks and my body is soothed. Ever since though, it’s all too visible how badly my skin has worsened. Growing up I had awful acne, constantly whining to the doctors about it. Then over the past year or so my skin decided to clear up upon maturity. Now though I am ruining it for myself, and have no-one else to blame. But I’m an addict, and it’s terrible.

I do try to be healthy though. For example over Easter I told myself that when I got back I would join the gym. Unfortunately on arriving back I was dismayed to find out about the ludicrous fees; even before you pay the gym membership, students have to pay a £40 York Sport membership. Seriously? I barely survive on grants and bursaries, and that’s with a job on top, so gym membership at those prices is a luxury!

Hence York really has become the death of me. Drinking, smoking, bad diet and lack of exercise; I blame you York!

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