The University Diaries Pt 1: Fresher's Week

Well, I've done about everything I could have done this week except what I'm actually meant to do. Which is to read Paradise Lost. Fresher's week has been just a little bit too exciting; I've sprained my wrist, woken up with permanent marker whiskers on my face, got fresher's flu, pierced my nose and heard two people having sex in a toilet at a club.
What can I say? I love London.

But now the clock is ticking...I've got my first lecture on Monday and my first essay due the Monday after that. Basically I need to finish PL in 2 days. But everyone wants to go to Hyde Park for a picnic...and how can I say no? I think fresher's week can lull you into the false notion that this one week of non stop partying is what university is going to be like all year. I have a million books to read and seemingly no time to do it in. Well I lie, I've only got 9 hours of lectures a week which actually gives me ample time to read...but I'm sure you know what I mean. Perhaps once fresher's euphoria has worn off I'll actually get down to doing some work...I bloody hope so!

I've been here for just over a week now, but I already love it. The people in my halls are just great and my tutor is amazing. When I walked in for my meeting with her I was expecting a scary straitlaced old man, but instead I got a slim, pretty young lady wearing the coolest skirt ever. And she was lovely.

I've been lucky in that everyone I've met has been great, although there has been the odd weirdo. There's one guy in particular who, despite being quite sweet, is just a little bit strange. He comes to my room regularly to borrow my hair straighteners (he says he's metro) and the last time he did the conversation we had ended with him telling me how girls hit on him all the time because he is, in his own words, "a good looking kinda guy". And he also hits on girl's he's not that interested in if he's bored at a club just because he wants to see if he can. And he's "very, very picky". Strange, narcissistic little boy. His prime complaint about our accommodation is that his room doesn't have a full length mirror.

Oh well, the guys on my floor are just great and very funny. Our kitchen window overlooks Saatchi & Saatchi so we stalk them regularly. Which may sound sad, but provides us with hours of endless amusement.

And I could write down every other little detail that has made me so happy this week, but I suspect it would bore you...if this post hasn't done so already so far!

Packing Checklist

yellow suitcase,
coat and gloves
expectations
cutlery.

friends,
digits on a cellphone
faces on a screen

leather bag,
high heels and jewellery
insecurity
lacy underwear.

memories,
between the four
walls of a picture frame.

elle purse,
eyeliner and lip balm
apprehension
ventolin.

life,
on a hanger
under the bed

in a suitcase.

Take Tolstoy's Advice

Change.
How many times have I heard people complain about it? From how your friend "changed" to how things at work "changed", and so on. How many times have I myself complained about things changing (esp. the new Facebook)?

In general, 'change' seems to be viewed with rather wary eyes.
Is it because we find it unsettling? Is it because adjusting to something new is too much of an effort? Or is it because more often than not things prove to change for the worse as opposed to the better?

I don't know about the rest, but in terms of people, here's how I see it; there are different shades of change: natural, artificial and conscious.
Natural Change - When you subconsciously find yourself influenced by your surroundings and peers, whether it's adopting their lingo, adapting to new ideas, etc
Artificial Change - When you deliberately alter yourself to 'fit in'. Also known as 'being fake'.
Conscious Change - Different from 'Artificial change' in that this type is more positive; when you try to improve yourself or minimalise your flaws; when you try to be a 'better person'.

I'm leaving to university soon - in just under a week actually - and I know it's going to be a whole new world: new experiences, new friends, new lifestyle. Of course I can't help but wonder, are these new experiences, friends and lifestyles going to change me? I'm pretty sure I already know the answer to that one; I expect some parts of me will change...I just hope it happens for the better. And that it's of the natural variety.

So here's the advice I want to give myself, and to anyone else who wants to take it:

"The changes in our life must come from the impossibility to live otherwise than according to the demands of our conscience, not from our mental resolution to try a new form of life" - Leo Tolstoy

Sound words, yes?

The Virgin Reads Lady Chatterley

What do I know about sex? Everyone else is out there doing it, talking about it, writing about it, etc. And here I am on the fringes, reading about it. From Lady Chatterley's Lover to Soixante-Neuf's blog...Oh I've been reading. My sex life is fascinating.
My vicarious sex life, that is.

I've been brought up a Christian, and the Bible tells us to kindly refrain from having sex until we're married.
I'm really not the most conservative of people when it comes to most things...But then there's that little sex issue that's got the word 'conservative' stamped right across my forehead...and I'm floating somewhere in an idealistic bubble, torn between two colliding paths of thought.

Once someone gets over the intial shock that yes, I am a virgin, they ask me why; is it that I've not met the right person, or am I 'waiting'? I guess it's both...I'm waiting for that 'right' person. And I'm hoping that the right person will be the only person.
Now even I'm laughing out loud at how idealistic I sound.
I don't understand why of all the conventions I've shaken off, this is the one that's stuck! In my head, I think I'm only going to have sex with one person. Ever. But I look around, and everyone's doing it! So I think to myself...is there any point in waiting? What are the chances that the person I'm waiting for waited for me? And more importantly, can I wait?

At least I'm not not doing it because that's what I've been told not to do. It's because this is how I view sex as I am now; 18, ignorant and inexperienced:

I see weddings as pretty institutional, and so I ask what actually makes two people 'married'? A ceremony? A ring? A piece of paper?
A series of man-made rituals.
The only physical and natural thing I can think of that binds a man and woman together is...sex. Consummation.
So does that say that having sex with someone effectively means you're...married to them? This is where I get confused. I don't know, I guess I think that if it's a kind of bond, then it's not something I'd want to have with just anyone.

D H Lawrence said "And however one might sentimentalise it, this sex business was one of the most ancient, sordid connections and subjections. Poets who glorified it were mostly men. Women had always known there was something better, something higher. And now they knew it more definitely than ever. The pure beautiful freedom of a woman was more wonderful than any sexual love. The only unfortunate thing was that men lagged so far behind women in the matter. They insisted on the sex thing like dogs."

Which is an entirely different view. Is he right? It's not a rhetorical question, I genuinely want to know. Not about the men/dogs part; that seems believable enough.

He gave it this rather curious description as well: "a queer vibrating thrill inside the body, a final spasm of self-assertion, like the last word, exciting, and very like the row of asterisks that can be put to show the end of a paragraph, and a break in the theme" I quite like the descriptive language here...again, any truth in this?

I suppose there can be a million different definitions...but what does it mean to you? I need to figure out my own definition as well, although I strongly suspect it's going to keep changing. Oddly enough I find that the majority of the writers/poets I have the greatest affinity for all had rather, um, colourful sexual histories...which is why I seem to end up reading all these books that make me think more than I really care to.

But for now the bigger hurdle is shaking off my reservations just long enough to be able to hit that 'Publish Post' button...