I've forgotten what it feels like to be warm. We have heaters, but we rarely turn them on. Layering is the number one student skill. Layers of jumpers, socks, duvets and blankets; layers and layers of words to fill up essays; layers of bread in between actual food to make it more consistent.
I'm sitting at my desk (just an Ikea wood board shoved against a wall), wiggling on my chair (no way it cost more than £5 since it is the most uncomfortable thing I've ever sat on, and I've slept on the floor multiple times), writing an essay about love and how it's basically a dead thing in our contemporary society (and yes this is what I got a loan for.)
Reading week has just ended and all I could think this week is that I had too many things to do/nothing to do. It's difficult to know where to start/when to end. I spend days on end thinking about work/going out. I sleep too much/not enough. And at the end of the day, I blog.
On Friday, I got really good grades back on an essay I really thought I'd failed (after going through the worst tutorial of my life: tip for you all, don't do one-to-one uni work when hungover) and went for a celebratory spontaneous haircut. I didn't think about the consequences. Didn't think about my tutorial when I was out drinking, didn't think about my bank account when I walked into the hair salon, didn't think about my hair when I said 'cut shorter.' Ain't nobody got time for that.
Also, the library has become a second home. I watch videos of the Old Spice Guy in the library (my friends wrote an essay about him.) I watch videos of a guy making pizza in the library (I'm interviewing him.) I watch videos of my friends awkwardly talking to a camera in the library (because this how we do SU elections in my university.) Sometimes, I actually read books and write. Sometimes.
This is (part of) life as a student.
And it's so incredibly good.