...and don't panic! The Know brings you advice during housing
A true friend is always there for you, especially when you're drunk.
Miss Quit regresses to her childhood this week as the prospect of beginning the "University of Life" looms.
Written by Moran Sheleg
As I look back to my first week at Uni, many moons ago now, a particularly harrowing montage hovers before me. It was all going so well. The night was young, the drink was flowing, and strangers with the potential to be my new best friends abounded. And then, with a throwaway comment here and a misconstrued word there, the night dissolved into a blur of deafening laughter and pitying looks.
O ye Freshers heed my warning: first impressions count. A lot. Actually, this applies to seasoned second-, and jaded third-years (such as myself) just as much because with the hope of a new year comes the chance to redeem that initial verdict somewhat. So, at the outset of this shiny new annum, in a futile, last-ditch attempt at absolution, I endeavoured to do just that.
Admit it, during surreal social experiences such as Fresher’s week, we all suppress or change a part of ourselves to seem that bit more personable, relatable, or just plain attractive. Interviews, dates, reunions: all the above require us to be somewhat censored, more polished, and sane-appearing versions of ourselves.
Foolish, yes, but foolishly well-intentioned, I attempted to suppress that niggling urge inside me to speak my mind. Some things should be left unsaid, no matter how genius they may sound within the vacuous walls of your own mind.
Under the pressure of such forced repression all those little, idiosyncratic flaws will no doubt start to show, one way or another. They could erupt in the form of an overly-loud nervous laugh, a hitherto dormant bout of Tourette’s, or a slurred rant about that bitch on the floor above that you just can’t stand, who just so happens to be sitting within earshot. Everyone cracks eventually.
When I do, it’s in the form of a highly audible verbalisation of how I feel at the exact moment I feel it. It’s not like accidentally spitting out your gum whilst trying to blow a bubble in an ill-executed attempt to look cool; once its been freed into the world, there’s no recovering it and stuffing it back in your mouth before anyone notices. Uh-ho no. It is, however, infinitely more embarrassing the next day.
No prizes for guessing the outcome of this week’s supposed quit. You see, any amount of good intention and self-control evacuates one’s body upon contact with alcohol. It is liquid kryptonite to the Superman of my brain-mouth connection. In one night I managed to alienate each of my roommates in equal thoughtless and moronic turn, get myself in trouble with an overly-friendly-until-scorned bouncer, and make a homeless person cry.
All in all, not a very successful week as quits go. Maybe it’s a good thing that I will never again submit anyone to my participation in the constitution, and minefield, that is Fresher’s Week. What a sad and humbling thought.
And now for my final word: a good opinion once lost is not necessarily lost forever, but it does take a bloody long amount of time (and apologising once sober) to recapture. Oh well, at least I have the rest of the year to make some new friends.
You have been sufficiently warned; I shall say no more. Well, for another week at least….
You must log in to submit a comment.
