I really wanted to update the blog this term. I had actually written about 5 or 6 drafts! I couldn't bring myself to do it though, because I knew there would only be one recurring theme about my life - the anti-climax it had become. After a year of constant excitement and self-discovery, life back at the same place where you had spent the preceding two years would inevitably not be as fulfilling. I didn't want to post constantly miserable updates throughout the semester so I'm just going to pop the one up now. Merry Christmas everyone!
If the four years of my degree were like a movie in the cinema, then last year would have been the awesome climactic part where things start to go right and then there's a happy ending. Think the battle of the Black Gate in Lord of the Rings or something. It's the really exciting part, and then BAM - Ring destroyed, Sauron gone, lots of crying elves, woohoo.
My fourth year feels like the credits are rolling (not the cast part, but at the end when you find out who was the assistant to the gaffer in the electrical development of a special effect that was deleted from the final cut) and the usher is whacking me with a mop telling me to get the fuck out already because I'm overstaying and he needs to get the next lot of movie fans in, who incidentally are paying triple the cost for their ticket for the exact same film.
This term was as exciting as a documentary about twigs, and it's mostly my fault.
People, like this guy below, talk about Post-Erasmus Depression Syndrome as a common after-effect of Erasmus. I think it's safe to say that this state of mind exists, and I'm a 'sufferer'.
Regression
My Erasmus year in Rennes taught me many things: to be positive, to seize every opportunity, to pursue your passion. However, when I was back in the familiar environs of the two years before, I can't help but think what I was like there during that time, and I fear that I have relapsed to that state.
In terms of my personal development, it may be safe to say that those first two years at university were the 'Dark Ages'. Year 1 is partly vindicated by the fact that I learned how to live independently, but apart from that it was a backwards step, and by the end of my second year I had gone from this high-achieving school leaver who was confident in his abilities and potential to a nervous wreck who felt completely lost about himself and his future. Erasmus couldn't have come at a better time.
Coming back to Warwick was almost like being a Fresher again. My confidence and optimism had been renewed, but this time I was determined. I was determined to not mess up this year like I did my first two. However, I don't feel like I've made much of an improvement. I have put in more effort (although still not enough really) at the expense of a social life. However, as the term 'social life' seems to mean getting hideously inebriated and trying to get lucky with some girl that looks like the back end of a goat and with a matching countenance, I'm not really missing out on much there!
Maybe this social life is the problem though. In Rennes it was easier, and not only because there were fewer hircine women. There seemed to be more to do, or there were more people who would think of things to do rather than rely on a select few to do it, hence more variety of social activity. At Warwick life feels like Groundhog Day, and I may as well actually study - it's just a shame that I'm not very good at it!
I haven't really exploited other opportunities either. Thanks to an ongoing problem with the practice room I haven't been able to form a band or do my job as Treasurer at the university's band society. I've written just one article for a student magazine that didn't even make the print. I've hardly done anything, apart from this teaching job to earn money to save up for potential travel plans once this boring year is over. However, due to my inability at being frugal, I'm not even doing that properly! (What am I spending my money on? I don't know! I have no life! I guess it must be all on comfort food and caffeine.) I'm as useful as a male nipple.
Misanthropic me?
My biggest problem seems to be that I've ricocheted from the try-hard extrovert that I was in my first year of university to someone who really can't be bothered to meet new people. I'm usually very comfortable with meeting strangers and I enjoyed finding that common ground (there was always something), the foundation upon which a friendship could be built.
However, these days I find the whole process too draining. Maybe it's because I've met so many people already, maybe it's because I can't even make the time to spend with all the friends I already have, or maybe I've just had enough of making shallow acquaintances with whom you basically just make MSN conversation whenever you bump into them on campus and it's too awkward to ignore them. You know what I mean:
"Hey man (because I forgot his name)"
"Hey Ollie (they remember mine, which makes me feel guilty)"
"How are you?"
"Good man. You?"
"Yeah all good....... see you later!"
"Later bro! (Why am I calling you 'bro'? You know nothing of my life! Unless you read my blog, then you'd probably know more than my actual brothers do...)"
So now I've erected a barrier around myself. I will not give my time to anyone who doesn't deserve it. The problem is, my closest friends are the social butterflies they always were. A couple of weeks ago I went to my friend's house expecting a quiet meal and three hours later I escaped from the house like it was Alcatraz, terrified at the prospect of making new friendships. I felt terrible for doing that, as I'm sure they were perfectly nice people, but I've got into a self-destructive frame of mind: I'm not here for making friends. I'm here to struggle my way to a decent degree to give myself the best options for my future: a future that will probably not have anything to do with my degree anyway.
Wow, when I put it that way, this year really does look rather shit! It isn't all bad though. I still have some of my best friends around, who still manage to tolerate me. Furthermore, in terms of classes, this has been the best semester yet (obviously, because I've chosen them VERY carefully). After attempting the hardcore finance study, relying on my maths and avoiding "bullshit" modules, I thought I'd change to a subject where the lecturer does not have a fetish for making students cry with impossible exams. Naturally, I returned to the bullshit.
Highlight of the term? Classes!
Images of Creativity is possibly the best class I have done EVER. Spanish is a beautiful language and our teacher is incredible (I still have a B1 level in my sights by the end of the year). I did two law modules, which continually remind me how I probably would have much preferred a law degree. Oh and there was Managing Customer Service, the only real business option I took this semester, and that was because I can do an exam in January and get it out of the way. This is the only class where I can safely say what my teacher's research interest is in - the National Health Service. How do I know? Because every fucking case study was based on it! It was more like Managing Patient Service!
Oh and there had to be one core module to ruin my life: CIM. It stands for Critical Issues in Management, but to me Catholic Incessant Molestation would be a more apt analogy. That course will rape the hopes and dreams out of me through its wishy-washy repetitive case studies that are clearly all focused on the insolvable issue that is ethics. They say each case is different - it really isn't. It's all about ethics and made up countries. The best thing is that our teacher doesn't want us to waffle if we don't know the answer. THERE IS NO FUCKING ANSWER TO KNOW! We waffle or we stay silent - up to you scary lady.
I could do a whole blog post about the classes this term, as they were the only interesting thing I seemed to do. I may subject you to that later this week. The best thing about these classes was that I did get to meet new people through them. My barriers were disabled in class, and I've met some really nice people, or at least got to know some people a bit better so we're now having more than MSN conversations.
The bottom line?
I guess what upsets me most of all is not that I don't like being in the UK, but that I don't like that I don't like being in the UK. See what I mean? Why do I feel so asphyxiated at home? My life here is perfectly fine - I have great friends and lots of opportunities.
I just feel that I'm holding my breath by staying in my home country for so long and that I need a gasp of fresh air, to break the surface and fly somewhere else. Just for a bit. Just to experience international life once more. Just to be with my international friends again. Just to be with my girl again...
Oh yeah, a long-distance relationship resulting from Erasmus MAY be an important factor in one getting Post-Erasmus Depression Syndrome! I miss her every day and wish I had enough money to travel to Mexico on a whim and surprise her. Of course, I'm not that wealthy. If I were I would have gone to Oxford University for starters....
But seriously, life at the moment feels like limbo again, but it's much worse this time because it's for a whole year rather than a month. Once more I'm not really looking forward to Christmas this year, but it's much worse this time because last year I was looking forward to the end of Christmas - to my trip around Europe and another semester in Rennes.
This year, I have only graduation to look forward to, way ahead in July. I'm wishing away my last year of university. I can't help it - I just feel that four years may be too long, that this extra year is like that extra episode of Only Fools and Horses. They became millionaires - why the fuck did they have to air one more episode where they'd lost it all? I felt like a millionaire last year. Everything was right.
This is what Post-Erasmus Depression seems to do to you. It makes you view your Erasmus year through rose-coloured glasses and your time after through shit-stained ones. I guess Post-Erasmus Depression only hit me when I was back in my own university and making the inevitable comparisons between the two student lifestyles. Perhaps.
All I know is that I want this to end. I want to get this degree over and done with without fucking it up, and be free to unleash the side of me that blossomed last year but is suppressed by Warwick life for some unknown reason. Just six or seven months to go and hopefully all this will pay off.
Whew! Glad that's all out.
Sorry for the pessimistic post, but sometimes this blog becomes my catharsis and I need to share how I really feel (I can hear Ken Jeong going "GAY!" here). I'm also sorry for the lack of photos. I didn't take any this semester - there were no memories to keep (be right back, I'm getting the world's smallest violin...) I try to minimise the misery in my blog. I know it's not as much fun to read - so I'm sorry for the relapse here.
I came up with a new idea though yesterday for a new blog, a way to push myself as a writer, and I will divulge more on a separate post. Hopefully if I can improve my writing, I can stay a little sane and feel better!
Rant over
Ollie
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