The best years of your life… yeah about that

The best years of your life… yeah about that

“Oh, you are a university student? You are so lucky! Enjoy it, those will be the best years of your life.” yeaah…. I am not so sure about that man. It is one in the morning and I can’t fall asleep, because I am stressed out of my mind. And the best part? The semester hasn’t even started yet.

So basically, those “best years” consist of two semesters every years… each semester is stressful as hell at the beginning and the end… So you get like two stressful months at the beginning because of all the formalities and making sure that you enrolled for the right classes and that you properly managed all the other important stuff, and later on you get another two stressful months of exam period. And that’s the fall semestr, where we luckily have the summer holidays. In the winter semestr you have the beginning stress and stress from the exam period in one nice package. AAAAnd of course there is everything in the middle, the awesome time you have to manage your relationships, money and other adult stuff… which, if you are like me, is also very very veeeery stressful.

So basically you’re all telling me, that these are the best years of my life… the years when I am in constant stress and panic mode, I can’t sleep, I have no appetite, meantime I am trying to manage my job, and overall I am not handling this well… but it’s good to hear that those “real” adult years of only working will be even worse… can’t wait… having a master degree that is good for nothing and little to no work experiences… what the heck am I gonna do. I should take this blogging hobby more seriously and become a full-time blogger or whatever, because otherwise I can just about cry my eyes out.

As I said before, it’s one in the morning and I have not really a clue where I was going with this… and because everything else coming to my mind is basically existential crisis, I better stop now.

Just a little insight of a student’s mind… at one o’clock am… what a time to be alive

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Carter

We have been friends ever since I can remember. We were best friends from the very first moment we saw each other in kindergarten and continued ever since. Everything went smooth until we hit the age of seven. That was the time, when Carter started doing these weird things. It all started one afternoon during a lesson. Out of nowhere he started shouting “Boooooring” and doing this plopping sound with his lips, followed with a wild jerk of his head. The teacher lost it, he got so mad, that Carter was disrespecting his lecture, that he kicked him out of the classroom. But unlike anyone else in the room, I knew that something was wrong. Carter was a quiet introvert, who would never do such a thing. His facial expression was showing, that he was desperate and very confused as the rest of us.

For the rest of the week, Carter didn’t show up to school. Apparently, he continued doing those weird gestures even at home and when being told off, he admitted that he had no control and it caused him tremendous discomfort and exhaustion to try to suppress it. His parents fortunately believed him and took him to a hospital… there he was diagnosed with Tourette’s syndrome.

Growing up was not easy. All our friends were slowly avoiding us, one by one. Nobody wanted to have anything in common with that weird guy that was shouting random things or doing wild hand gestures. Nonetheless, I stayed. I never left his side. For some stupid reason, nobody was able to comprehend what an extraordinary person Carter was. Our favourite activity was to watch movies and different TV series. We had always the subtitles on, so we wouldn’t be disturbed if he did some noise – that was when I discovered that reading had an interesting effect on him, and calmed him down to some extent. I started bringing him comics and bunch of fantasy and sci-fi books. He loved it. In fact he loved it so much that most of his vocal tics started being references from those different comics and TV series. There is nothing more hilarious than when we are walking down the street and he starts shouting “To the Batmobile!” or “Heeeere’s Johnny!” or “Why so serious?” and many more. He never failed to make me laugh and he was glad to have someone to be laughing with him and not at him. Not everybody though was so nice. Many people were giving him weirded out looks, even offended. They thought he was a freak. He was unable to keep quiet for a long period of time, so school became very hard for him and let’s face it, other kids are very judgemental towards people who are different. Eventually it got even to the always positive Carter. It started slowly. He became frustrated, scared and later on very depressed. I watched him every day be more and more sad, as if a piece by piece he was dying. His ticks started to be more rude, which made him more anxious, which made him tick even more. I tried to be there for him, to support him, to cheer him up, but it wasn’t enough.

One day he didn’t come to school and I wasn’t able to reach him on his phone. I became very worried. He was capable of anything at this point, despite the loving support of me and his family. The outside world just overpowered the good and placed him in a dark hole, out of which he couldn’t get out. Anxiously I left school early and hurried over to his flat. We were twenty at that time.

I tried to ring the doorbell, but nobody was answering. I had this bad feeling, so I stopped messing around and fair and square threw a stone in his living room and climbed in. I got some very bad cuts, but I couldn’t care less. I searched most of the house, until finally, I found him on the bathroom door, crying his eyes out, holding a closed tube of pills. I sat next to him and hugged him. We didn’t speak, just sat there.

After this incident, I decided it was time to do something. I found a local group meeting with people suffering from Tourette’s syndrome and brought Carter there. He was amazed. All those people were like him, they accepted him and they loved him as much as I did. He finally found a place where he belonged and discovered that he wasn’t alone. We started attending regularly and even found out that in the group was a professional comedian. We attended one of his performances and I could see, that a new spark appeared in Carter’s eyes. Finally he could see that there was a way, that he could live happily and at last he was able to see himself as I saw him all those years… as an extraordinary human being, that everybody should be jealous of, because nobody was even close as awesome as he was.

Little Safe Haven

As some of you might know, I moved to a different city across our little republic, in order to attend college. Except for my boyfriend, I knew nobody here and the whole city was alien to me. Yet I managed to stumble across one place I knew by heart – Costa Coffee. For those who are not familiar with this coffee shop, it’s like the second most known coffee chain store after Starbucks. That said, you may be thinking ‘yeah, of course, a chain store would feel familiar duh’, but hear me out. In my hometown (the capital city) Costa Coffee is on every corner, I always took it for granted, but here? Nothing. I am a college student and a coffee lover, so of course, that between lectures I was looking for some coffee places to take refuge in and I was struggling. For the whole first semester, I couldn’t find a steady place where I would return regularly. But then out of nowhere, I 18136394_10208690723217977_943398478_nfound it. We were about to go on a trip by train with my boyfriend and I was craving coffee so much, that I was looking where to get a cup, when suddenly, very well hidden, I came across Costa Coffee. I’ve been going there ever since. In this town, I’m living in at the moment, there is only one Costa for the whole town! But nevertheless, it feels like a little safe haven, a familiar surrounding, that reminds me of home, where I can sit peacefully by myself and for a moment chill out.
It’s always important to find your little cosy place in an unfamiliar place, doesn’t matter whether it’s a bookstore, a coffee shop or a stationery shop, as long as you feel comfortable there and you feel welcomed there. I found my place and I hope you’ll find yours.

(PS: also the staff there seems to recognise me already… maybe I’m going there too often?)

Stop procrastinating via procrastinating

Is your kid a pathological procrastinator? Do they have an important test that they need to study for, but they still have so many better things to do and a huge range of excuses? Do they have little to none patience? Then I found the solution for you.
You see, I am a college student. Starting tomorrow my exam period starts off with an important exam and what did I do to study? Absolutely nothing. I managed to read two books, both of 400 pages in the last week and both completely useless for my studies. For once I am clever enough not to start reading another book (although the temptation is killing me) and I won’t start watching any new series, despite not having anything to watch. That said, I had nothing to do. I had watched all the youtube videos in my subscriber feed and since it wasn’t even noon, it was way too early to study, so what did I do? Played a video game, that’s right.
You may be confused – how is that going to help you stop procrastinating? It is actually l_60c4eab9quite easy… because currently, I am playing Alice: madness returns. If you know this game and you were able to finish it and it was a piece of cake for you, then I admire you. I am not even kidding, you are a god. For those who don’t know the game, you have to fight a lot – there are like million controls, which get pretty confusing and if you are like me, you lose control of where your fingers are and there are just so many enemies… and they kill you over and over and over again till finally, finally, you manage to beat them. But then there are the jumpalice-mr-01b-lging platforms… Like heeell to the no. They disappear and they move and there is no saving, just checkpoints, so all your effort is worthless if you screw up just one time on the very end… Oh my, it’s such a frustrating game! I am not a very patient person and this game will seriously drive me off the edge into a nut house (yeah, I see the irony). It actually angers me so much that after half an hour of failing, I’d rather study for my exam, then continue playing. I am cured of procrastinating.
The lesson here? If you have the urge to procrastinate, do something that you know will drive you up the wall and you will be glad to do some calm studying that makes sense (in most cases).

The torture of the dark and cold cave

There were only a few of us left. Outside was a beautiful spring day, the sun was shining and the first time in months it was actually warm. Yet we were here, in this dark and cold cave, with only dim light shining through the small aperture. We weren’t supposed to be here anymore, the torture was over, the freedom was so close… but we couldn’t go. Slowly but surely it was coming towards us, but it was still out of reach, our ticket to freedom. Not everyone was strong enough. The darkness was pulling meout-of-the-cave into its grasp, I started hysterically laughing, tears falling down my cheeks. I wasn’t the only one. The individual next to me was trying to joke, ease up the situation, but there was no use. We were all so desperate, knowing that even if we get out of here, even worse things are about to come. Not only were we getting depressed of the absence of light, but our hunger was making itself known. Most of us hadn’t eaten in days. There were some that straight up gave in, lying there without signs of life.
It was closer and closer. We could feel its presence. We couldn’t wait to get our hands on it, till finally! The attendance sheet got into our reach, twenty minutes after the end of the lecture. We signed it and got the hell out of that forbidden place, knowing that it was the last lecture of the semester and exam period was coming. Suddenly we wished that we could sit there forever, waiting for our ticket to freedom, because everything was better than the upcoming stressful days.

 

Too much feminism?

I can already hear the angry people coming at me for this post, but before you judge me right away without reason, hear me out. I am a student of English literature and every other week I have a seminar addressing a certain book assigned to that week. This semester I got a really awesome professor that is explaining us everything about the author, the times the book was written in and all the different issues mentioned in the work. I admire his determination but there is just one teeny tiny flaw – it’s all about feminism with him. I’d never guessed that I would say it, but there actually CAN be too much feminism. Don’t get me wrong, I support the feminist movement and I’m all about the equal right, but all in all, there is a certain degree to which you can push it onto people.
I have read every book assigned for this semester and I tried to write my essays on new innovative topics… and yet I never got full 100%, but surprise surprise my friends who have never read the books have full 100% because they were writing about feminism and I wasn’t. Ok, I could cope with that you know, I could write about feminism too and if my theory works I will have 100% in the blink of an eye. But what was actually the last straw, was the last book we discussed – Remembering Babylon. I liked the book quite a lot (you should read it yourself, I can recommend it) but when he started talking I was staring at him with open mouth – he explicitly told us that if we are going to write an essay on this book, we have to include feminism… what? No… This book is about racism and xenophobia, about oppressing the Natives and stealing their land. There is the ideology of enslaving or straight up killing the natives, deep philosophy about the rottenness in people and so much more, feminism is barely touched, but nevertheless, I’m supposed to include it in a two pages response paper?
Feminism is an important issue, I get that, yet we can’t forget about other as important issues, especially as a professor. You can’t degrade people just because they aren’t writing about the issues you want them to. To give him some credit he is an undergraduate trying to get his doctorate and it’s nice that someone in a teacher’s position is even acknowledging feminism, but what’s too much is too much.

The magic of formal clothes

I’ve always been the girl who wears oversized band T-shirts or the one with fandom print. Put some oversized converse shoes and ripped and patched jeans in the mix and you have pretty much the picture of me.
When I was a little child and my mom was picking clothes for me, it always meant that it would be pink – she loooved pink. She loved pink so much that once at a summer camp I found myself dressed in pink sweatpants, a pink hoodie, and pink shoes… yeah, you can’t even imagine how embarrassed I felt. One thing led to another and as soon as I was in control of what I was wearing, I tried to be that dark intimidating rock leather wearing girl. I must say that I did succeed to some extent, I was finally proud of what I was wearing. The more band and geek T-shirts I owned the happier I was. But then I found myself a boyfriend and started attending college. You say that you don’t have a clue what that has to do with clothes? Oh, let me tell you – everything. I’ve never really been a make-up girl – I do have severe acne scars, but I tried to heal my complexion and one step to prevent pimples was to cut out heavy make-up, so in my rock days I just applied eyeliner and some mascara and I was good to go. But then I went to college and I met this girl heavily obsessing with NYX liquid lipsticks… and soon after I fell in that trap too. I started wearing lipsticks, actually started doing my brows and I’m slowly getting down full face make-up routine when I have time and for special occasions. But that pretty look wouldn’t do for my rock clothes and that’s when my boyfriend comes to the scene. He is a well put together young men, always in a shirt under a nice sweatshirt and he despises my band T-shirts. Formal clothes somehow were never even in my dictionary – I never really needed them and if I did, I possessed one skirt that was sufficient. My boyfriend changed all of that and convinced me to buy some prettier formal clothes – nice WHITE sweatshirt, a shirt (it has little Darth Vaders all over it so my geek self is satisfied too) and something I would have never imagined – tight fitting skirt.
I’ve always tried with my looks to be intimidating, to present this picture of a fierce strong woman who isn’t scared of anything, but it wasn’t until now that I realized that black clothes looking like I came straight from a metal concert, wasn’t it. There is something in well put together clothes, when you have a tank top and tight-fitting skirt with high heels, that you truly feel invincible, like you own the place. A strong woman that means business and won’t let you bring her down. I always tried to avoid feminine formal clothing but all this time, that was the key to being a fierce intimidating powerful woman and I’m glad I was able to see this new world.
(Next, I’m gonna dye my hair silver, wondering how’s that gonna go!)