I’m impatient. I microwave my pasta because it takes six minutes rather than eleventy hundred four tens and a bit on the hob, which people have deemed weird but it’s the way forward, guys. The hardest struggle at uni, apart from the inability to get Fox’s Golden Crunch Creams because #budget, is knowing that I have to wait three years until I can carry on living my life. I’m impatient. I want it now. 

Before coming here, I had everything set. I had a part time job, a perfectly located home outside of London, a book in the making, and a bucket load of ambition. I was so ready for it all. Then I was picked up and dropped by the sea without my job, with no time for my book, and with a chisel tapping away my ambition. It scared me. I wanted out. Every now and again I still do. Balancing who you were and what you wanted with this new life is tough and no one warns you about it. My life has been built upon determination, ambition, and moving forward. It’s all I know and now I feel stunted, like there’s a wall in my way for three years and I’m bashing it with assignments but it won’t go away any quicker. It’s not going anywhere. So I stare at my book and I remind myself that its success is the other side of that wall. I stare at opportunities, like writing here, and I know that nothing’s changed. Not really.

Maybe what else I find hard is the difference in my friends who aren’t so vulture-like with their futures. One friend is studying Medical Imaging at Exeter and has a 98% guaranteed job at the end of her course. Her job’s there and most of her course entails placements. She’s not fussed. Another is at Oxford studying Engineering and said: “I forgot careers were a thing. I just need to pass these exams then I’ll figure out what I want to do in life.” He doesn’t even know! The thought makes me come out in hives. But maybe it’s my course which drives me ambition mad. Another friend is studying Events Management at Greenwich and has snapped up a job at The O2 with other ad-hoc opportunities on the side. The London buzz and prospect of organising huge Olympic style events has her driven to the point of exhaustion. Her coursemates are the same. Studying English leaves a lot to the individual. There’s no set outcome, no set equal mindset amongst the group. I’m rocking in my seat in the lecture theatre, watching everyone scribble down notes and ask questions, and all I’m thinking is, “What’s next?” and, “I could be book writing.” and something to do with food. Probably gammon.

It’s all prioritising. Right now, uni to me is like a stepping stone. I need it, but just want to skip over it. To others, it’s the water under the stepping stone. They want to immerse themselves in uni. Cor. How’s that analogy for you.