...Like a fool left the river, and watched my branches fall...
It's quite odd, looking back to September 2011, and the enthusiasm with which I approached starting university. Everything was new and exciting and interesting, and it was time for me to make my place in the world. That was only a year ago, and yet I think back to then and see myself as such a child - after all, as I've explained before I was just running away from things happening back home. It seems when life comes down to Fight or Flight, I always go for Flight. I'm sat here thinking about a year ago and wondering where all that confidence came from. I was in one of my lowest emotional states at the time, yet I seemed to get on quite well when I started out at university. Unfortunately, now, I've seen what I came here to see, I've learnt what I came here to learn, and I've experienced enough to feel that it's getting a little repetitive. I keep hiding what I'm thinking and feeling, so it all comes out in one messy explosion of negativity for somebody, usually my parents, to endure. Experience tells me that this is not healthy, that it can make matters worse, and that I really shouldn't do it. Telling people is easy enough - once you start, it's like a floodgate opens and you can just roll with it. The tricky part is knowing who to tell, and I'm only writing it here because, bar maybe three people, I've no idea who reads my blog and so I'm talking to faceless people who can't hate me for feeling the way I do.
I am really struggling to handle this course. Within each module is a project with an enormous workload, and these modules run alongside each other, so we're constantly swamped with work - or if we're not, it feels like we should be. I'm no expert on the functionality of others, but I do know that I personally cannot work like that. With the amount of work that needs doing, and the separate groups we're working in for different modules, it's difficult to organise when we can do what and with who, which leads to a confused mess - in my mind, anyway - of the projects and what needs to be done. I seem to suffer from an awkward ailment of requiring total organisation in order to see that everything is being done, and lacking the organisational skills to actually keep affairs in order. I suppose, in a way, this course is like walking on custard; when you're running, it feels amazing, but when you get stuck it seems impossible to break free. Presently, I'm stomach deep in the custard with the nearest people just out of reach.
I was told by a friend recently that I worry too much, and I guess I can see that, but with the current state of how my university work is going (in particular the project I'm responsible for), I'm struggling to do anything but worry constantly. I'm not good at being in charge, I'm not particularly outgoing, and as previously stated, I'm no good at organisation. As a result of this, an entire module of ours is suffering heavily, and I don't know how to fix it. Every day, more complications rise up and just add to the bucket full of panic I have balanced on my head, and I just...I don't know what to do. If this course didn't have so much going on at once, maybe I would have been able to keep it under control, but as it is I have no idea.
However, despite all the stress and confusion that uni is causing me, of which I've barely said anything, there are some little things that have been helping to keep me sane. I got invited to join in with a little acoustic band, and since I love music - hearing it, playing it, singing it - I went along, and had a really good time and managed to actually feel relaxed for once since September. It was so much nicer than I ever thought to be able to make noise and to sing around other people just because I wanted to and not have everyone in the room howling at me to shut up. Small freedoms can make a big difference, it seems. In addition to this, over the past couple of weeks I have started to act somewhat more like a person of my age - or that's the impression Ive been given, anyway. Rather than staying in all night every night, I'm getting out of the flat and going to a pub with a friend. I don't drink, and so this is something I never really did before, at least, not with any sense of frequency, but I've come to realise that my choice of drink is unimportant. It's the fact that we're getting out of our homes, socialising and simply enjoying ourselves that matters. I imagine that to the majority of people reading this, what I've just written must sound a little ridiculous - to be marvelling at such small wonders at my age, but with me it seems that it's always the little things that have the biggest impact, or are always the things I learn last. I don't know, I just enjoy it. And also, I'm equal parts grateful and surprised that the friend who introduced to me to this whole new thing is able to put up with me so much - so if/when you read this, thanks for helping to keep me sane. And apologies for all the emotions on this post.
This is my third attempt at this blog post, and even this final version has taken me over an hour to write. I'm not sure why this particular post has been troubling me so much, given that I've wanted to write a new entry for well over a week, and people have asked me when it's getting updated. It was clearly time, but the words just wouldn't come. Here it is, at last, though, and I have learnt something about myself whilst writing it...I use really strange analogies... To end on a nice, light, note, I went home to film for our documentary this weekend, and on the way back I brought my guitar. (Technically my father's guitar but since I play it more I'll call it mine. It's less confusing that way.) Loving having it back in my possession, I started playing it again almost instantly, and I decided to record myself playing/singing a cover. The sound quality is appalling, but if you wanted to listen, here's the link:
https://soundcloud.com/devanfulham/stay-stay-stay-cover/
Well, that's another on-screen expulsion of my current thoughts and feelings - thanks for reading. Until the next time.
Turn End,
Devan.
