The Month

large (9)

September. The academic benchmark of a new year.

A time which used to signify the prospect of a crisp, new uniform, an unreasonable level of concern over pencil cases and the feeling of dread surrounding homework.

This September, I’ve realised (like most), that there’ll be no more school ties to keep me looking smart, no new pens to improve my writing and no fresh teachers to do the job of inspiring me. All that I have leftover this month is a yearning for carnivals gone by and the summer holiday that I never had.

I feel like it’s time for change, or at the very most, a new year’s resolution. This is probably because I’ve somehow fallen out of sync with the rest of the post-education, adult, population and have refused to let go of this month as the beginning of a new year. I feel like it’s a time to be honest, to start learning again and to make promises; much like I’ve felt every Michaelmas since nursery school.

So, with the changing of seasons, as the leaves begin to drop, so does the tempo in the capital and the slog to save for Christmas begins. And moreso than ever, I have realised that hard work really does pay off. I’m not sure why after seventeen years of education, it has taken me one year of not being educated to realise this, but the penny has finally dropped. I have achieved what I have thus far by learning and that doesn’t have to change because I am no longer a student. I’ve rediscovered the importance of surrounding myself with people who I can learn from, finding books that entertain me and learning a language despite the slog.

So seeing as our parents have forever banged on about our schooldays being the best of our lives, we should probably head back to them and start a new year all of our own instead of dwelling over our post-summer slumps.

And why wait until January?

Happy New Year.

The Gold Rush

As I celebrated my 22nd birthday on Saturday evening in a lovely pub surrounded by friends, I was informed of a little something that guys at university have thought up at a time when I really thought it couldn’t get any worse. They have coined a new phrase: “The Gold Rush”.

You know the feeling when you’ve sat through your final seminar and you start to see light at the end of the tunnel and think about all the fun that is to ensue post-exams? Me too. However, I have been looking forward to not studying, sunbathing and taking part in all day and all night drinking once again. I guess people had other ideas about their final term at university. Guys across the country have apparently labelled the final forthcoming summer term celebrations as, “The Gold Rush”. They’re basically referring to themselves finally seeking out the girls that they’ve always wanted to (for want of a better word) shag and, well, shagging them.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all up for a little summer loving but I just cannot for the life of me understand why these guys think it will be any easier for them to score with the girl that they haven’t got with because of a little bit of sunshine if they’ve been trying for the last three years? Maybe if you stopped naming having sex with someone, you might be more successful?

I, for one, will be steering clear of anyone who looks like an eager pioneer this summer. And girls, so should you.

Final note: To the guys who “invented” this apparently seasonal affair: It’s available all year round. If you have the chat, that is.