So, despite this blog having been half-arsed-around for a while, I'm actually due to start my course soon. And actually train as a nurse, which was the original point of it.
So, yesterday I moved to University. I got in early, on the first possible day, and once I'd unpacked my basics I was somewhat bored. Two of my best friends live or lived here so they were around to make me feel welcome. We got drunk and stayed out until 5am and took silly pictures and it was better than I'd imagined it could've been.
But now I'm under siege by homesickness. It's only really myself and the international students here now, you see, and my flatmate isn't in that often - and is older and seems a bit quiet - so I'm on my own. And it's making me weep for no apparent reason.
This isn't the first time I've lived away from home. It is, in fact, not my first stint of Further Education. And yet today feels worse than when I was 18. By this time, my first time around, I'd already made two mates and had a drinking session with them to look forward to. I mean, I remember crying when I realised I was all on my own, but meeting people naturally changed that. Given I'm a 'mature' - ha! - student I'm not with the new freshers and so I'm not going to meet people in the same way. That, on top of the fact that I've moved in early, means I might not meet new people soon. And my mates in the City are all well and good, but live miles away.
No man is an island, obviously, and right now I feel so isolated. It's a bit pathetic, really. But thanks to the aforementioned night out, I've had 3 hours sleep. So I just haven't the energy to fight and be positive. I almost broke down in tears in Tesco, which is unfortunately the only real supermarket nearby. I managed to hold off on the short walk back until I got through my new room before it got to me. I cried and cried until I didn't have anything left. Then I cried some more. Sometimes, I find I need a bit of a stress release whinge, but I've found it hard to stop. I rang my mum, as I was out drinking when she called me yesterday, and I found myself overcome. Thankfully, I managed to tell her I'd be home tomorrow to eat dinner and pick up more of my belongings tomorrow before I had to take my snivelling self away from the phone.
I honestly hate feeling like this. It's not me. And usually I cry, consider and move on. But thanks to fatigue and a major hangover, I just can't seem to stop it.
Other than that, the new beginnings aren't looking too shabby. I like the city I'm in, which is close enough to home for me to head back for whatever reason. My room is big because I'm only sharing the flat with one, instead of the maxiumum of three. One of my best friends has given me a bunch of books from her mum's Diploma, so I have free literature, which I always appreciate. On the plus side this room has a recreation room. On the down side there are no video games. Just bandits. Darn it. I haven't money to lose!
I'd like to meet people soon. I don't want to live the crazy life of a kid who's never been away from home before, as a choice, but in the same way it doesn't mean I don't want to meet some of them and buy cheap ale from a student union. You can't have your cake and eat it, sure, but I'd still like to.
I wish my TV was here, too. I hate being addicted, but I like the news, and the noise, and other N words.
As for people, you might be wondering why I just don't go out and meet some. Problem is, not all new students are here, yet. There are the previously mentioned internationals and then returners. There aren't a huge number of internationals about and I don't want to be an annoying newbie trying to be cool and attatch myself to a collection of 2nd or 3rd years. That's sad.
So it's a bit of a waiting game. Back during my degree there wasn't a large move-in-period. Instead there was one weekend to move in. On each of those nights your sub-Warden, a 2nd or 3rd year responsible for your block, would take you upto the bar with the rest of your house.
Of course, that was a delightful little country campus and this is a city one. But the point still stands. It'd be nice if someone was responsible for this entire floor and got us all together. I'd forget about stupid homesickness then.
I think the main point of this whole string of thought is that I should be used to this. Which, thinking about it properly, is bollocks. I lived away from home for four years, yes, but the second, third and forth were with people I know. There are none of this. And between those years I was only home for a couple of months. So essentially I've only been in this situation once before. And I was lucky to be living with some like minded boys and then ply myself with drink in their company.
So, this is the second time. The last year I've been at home, living in cramped, but really quite luxurious conditions in the fact that I had everything I needed and my mum would cook. Now I'm on my own, in a strange-ish city, hungry and filled with trepidation. It's awful, but so was my first time. Even after meeting the boys, homesickness didn't dissapear. I remember, as we were in the middle of nowhere and I didn't bring any food, being starved, searching for something - anything - to eat on a Sunday. It was a bit of an adventure, but still scary and horrid. I hope this sadness passes just as successfully.
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