For a long time, I’ve considered making this blog more personal. Instead of just writing about books and music, I wanted to really write about EVERYTHING Alyce. The recent blogging slump has made it seem unlikely, though.
That was all before moving to UNIVERSITY! I’ve experienced a lot in my life, but nothing quite this big. You hear a lot of people telling you – in hindsight – that “Freshers wasn’t THAT bad!” or “New flatmates aren’t THAT scary!”, but I’m here to give you a daily breakdown on exactly how university really works.
So, technically my first day was yesterday. Whoops! Grandad drove me, mum and the long-suffering boyfriend all the way to Hertfordshire, we dropped a bunch of stuff off and then went straight home. Mostly because I had too much stuff to fit into the car (but also because Enter Shikari were doing a signing in Marlborough this morning, and I wanted to meet them. Sue me!).
After meeting Shikari, it was back in the car (boyfriend free this time 🙁 ) and on the lonely road to Hertfordshire once again. By arriving late, I missed a compulsory flat meeting – starting as I mean to go on – and got here after everyone else was already settled in. The boy living opposite me kindly came out to the car to help us carry in some books (predictable, huh, that I brought too many), so it was off to a good start.
Running backwards and forwards to the car, a few trips got everything inside, and then it was time for my family to leave. I didn’t cry. Much.
Anyone who knows me knows that I am a hoarder. I can find an excuse to keep ANYTHING, because I hate wasting things. As you can imagine, I packed far too much for university, but because there’s so much storage space in my room everything fits perfectly? I can hardly comprehend it.
Showing my priorities are always in the right place, I unpacked my bookcase and decorative candles first. It says in the terms and conditions that you’re not really supposed to bring candles… But I don’t have a lighter in my room, so they’re hardly a fire hazard!
The flatmate I met on Facebook before moving in knocked on my door and introduced herself, so I was off to a flying start meeting people. But then, after a couple of hours unpacking alone – mostly folding my band shirts, of which I brought far too many – the anxiety resurfaced. I needed to go to the kitchen to put my utensils away, but I just couldn’t open the door. I hadn’t meant to, but I was hiding.
Pacing up and down my tiny corridor, I peered through the peephole.
Lovely boy who helped me unpack still had his door propped open. Damn! That meant there was no chance of avoiding human contact. I resisted sliding to the floor and curling up into a ball, but only just. Bravely packing a box with my kitchen supplies, unpacking and repacking it three times to prepare myself, I opened my door and stepped out into the hallway.
“Hey,” said the boy.
“Hi!” said I, in my overly perky cheerful voice.
And then I fled into the kitchen, breathing a huge sigh of relief to find the area empty. Score.
Unpacking pt 2:
Box on the kitchen table, I turned towards my cupboards with glee. I’d made it into a public area, and there were no people around! I could do this! Quickly rethinking my dinner plans, I settled on pasta with sauce instead of just a noodle mug.
But I was too naive. I relaxed too quickly. As soon as my back was turned (I was facing the table, unpacking my food supply) the door hissed open. Jumping, I span around. A person.
No. People! Five people! In MY kitchen?! How dare they!
Feeling like a rabbit in the headlights, I’m still not sure if my mouth was hanging open or if I was glaring haughtily at the strangers. They looked shocked to see me, so probably the latter. How embarrassing. The last girl in said “Hiya!” but it was far too late for me. I had to get out of there, and I had to get out of there FAST.
And that’s why I’m now hiding in my room for the second time, with no mug noodle OR dish of pasta to show for my troubles. *weeping*. At least it’s given me something to write about, even if I feel as though I could expire from hunger at any moment. (I’m being dramatic. I’ve eaten an apple and two oranges. That’s plenty, right?)
Tune in tomorrow, in which your hero travels all the way to Oxford to see Mayday Parade and probably won’t get back until four in the morning.
(Actually, come back on Tuesday. Tomorrow’s blog post will be sleep deprived and nonsensical. No one needs to see that.)