The Promised Update (With a Bonus Whinge)

...you have been warned. If you gotten even remotely sick of my negative journals, go do something else. I don't mind.



So. First term of uni done.

It's been ... interesting. Very full-on. I have long contact hours and a stupid number of assessments. I'm rocking some lovely RSI in my wrists It's kind of hard to say whether I'm better or worse for being there. Physically, it's a lot harder on me (I mean, obviously, just leaving the house four days a week is much more strenuous than anything I did last year). I do think I've improved a lot from the life-drawing class though; the teacher makes us do some really weird things sometimes, but looking back on my work during review, I can't argue with the results. It was kind of surreal, in a way, looking at the work from this term and legitimately wondering if it was really mine, the forced change in technique and style from week to week was so intense.

Mentally and emotionally, where I thought there'd be a bigger change, is hard to tell. I thought I was going to feel better, like I had a purpose in life again. And that is true, and it's nice to not be bored anymore. It's also nice to see where I've improved.

But it's also kind of scary and worrisome. It's upsetting to get reminders that I don't know when I might graduate, but I'm damn sure it won't be with my classmates, and that's going to hurt. I also keep freaking out about spending 6 or so years just on this degree, coming out of uni in my late 20s with a lowly BA, no job history and just failing at everything thereafter. I feel like I'm just postponing hobodom rather than working towards the things I want out of my life, chiefly some kind of independence, both for myself and for the sake of the poeple I rely on. On top of all that, being back in a school-like environment, coupled with trying to help deal with the certain problems of certain friends, has brought back a lot of unpleasant memories and therefore stupid anxieties and paranoias that logically I know are ridiculous but still can't seem to shake.

I guess it's largely the constant uncertainty. I'm reluctant to make plans for myself or really acknowledge any hopes because I have no guarantee that things will be better in 5, 10 or 20 years' time. And I need them to be before I can trust my body to handle at least a semblance of a normal life. So, emotionally, I'm probably still in about the same place as I was pre-uni, just a few things have been added to the mix and they're balanced each other out. It's weird and disappointing that the goal I'd been working towards all of last year hasn't made me feel much better in achieving it.

I know, I know, I'm forever complaining about really stupid things when I look back on them, my problems pale in comparison to most, and I keep promising happier journals, even though I'm sure at this point that most of you have just tuned out to my bullshit (and if you hate me even half as much as I do, I don't blame you one bit) but I'm starting to feel like I need to rant here sometimes. The happy facade is spent in real life, on the people I interact with every day, so I'm sorry, internet mostly-strangers, but you're getting the tired, defeatist Arinen instead. I truly am sorry.