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teylaminhWell, Becky and Jemma have gone home, which just leaves me, Charlotte and Lydia behind in the flat, though it might as well be just me for the amount of socialising they do... I don't know when Jemma left; I presume last night. Becky knocked on my door four minutes after my alarm went off - good timing, otherwise I'd have fallen asleep again - and my glasses fell apart as I grabbed them because the screw fell out, so I'll have to get those fixed later. (Luckily, I have another pair.)
The end is nearly here. I'm going on the 19th (which reminds me, I must email my father about taking half of my stuff home before then; I dreamt I forgot last night, and the consequences were less than good.) and will be pretty much on my own until then, save for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
last_dance coming the weekend before so we can see Harry Potter and take some photos before I leave the prettiness for good.
It's been a strange year, all told. More sociable than all of the others put together, and I've probably made more friends I'll actually stay in contact with than ever before, in the flat alone: I still owe Vicky a gallery page for her website, which I may attempt later if my eyes ever stop aching, and I've got Becky's email address and a command to stay in touch; I've still got Clare's mobile number and should probably try to meet her over the summer, and while I don't have Jo's number, I'm sure we'll meet up at graduation. It's probably a little early to be reminiscing, but I'm in the mood, now...
Four years, I've been here. It seems, at once, both a lot longer than that, and not nearly long enough to have done everything I wanted to do. I still look back with fondness to my first year; until this one, that was the best bunch of flatmates I ever had. Everyone was in the same position: we had to be nice to each other because we had to live together for two out of three semesters, at least. Those were the days of all-day attendance, from 9.00 in the morning for anatomy, to 6.00 in the evening after psychology, four days a week, give or take, and three-day weekends. It was the year I discovered the joys of unlimited internet access, and there was no going back; it's because of that my sleeping pattern is shot to Hell, which is probably less of a good thing. And that year is always synonymous with both the Zen Room, and chatting to Katie and Traci on AIM into the small hours, when saying up all night seemed a challenge, and was planned for in advance with multi-packs of crisps.
It was also the year of Chorus, and meeting Angela, finding a kindred spirit - over alcohol, naturally - in someone perhaps more obsessed with Phantom than me. In fact, I think she honestly kept me sane. Whilst we've not met up as much as I'd like, we are, nevertheless, still in contact.
The year after that was a new start - new halls, new flatmates, new course, new computer, new livejournal, new friends... new obsessions. The year started as it had ended, in a way - still chatting to Katie and Traci, still writing endless Voyager fanfic - and was, in the main, the year of the Farscape obsession, for many reasons. Voyager had ended, and Farscape was just starting season three, and the sheer, utter, heartbreaking angst of that season gave me a way to vent - in fanfic - the frustrations and claustrophobia inside my brain. It was a bad year for me, angst-wise, in the wake of both quitting/failing OT, and the cat dying before I started the year, neither of which I've properly recovered from. Much of the second term was spent going back to Birmingham on Fridays to go out for drinks with Lloyd and Derek, and they were great days. It was the year oflast_dance's Farscape Initiation Weekend, and discovery of the factory, albeit without getting near enough to take photos at the time. It was the year of ennixeve and me with our '2ams', which weren't so much therapy as catharsis.
I think the one thing I'll always remember of that time was the start of the Sunset obsession, getting to knowsweeterthing through mutual beta-ing and AIM conversations, and staying up til 6am just to get the latest irritating fluff idea out of my brain, but still managing to get up at 11.00 the next morning... and God, but that room was hot. Writing fic was just a way of putting off the inevitable struggle to sleep through the heat.
That summer was the SFX con, and the start of the Buffy obsession which is still around now. The year started with Sunset again, getting to meet Sweet for the first time, and Eve for the second, and having a thoroughly fantastic time in Manchester. I still remember those two days with a sort of dream-like quality, from the meeting at the fire station to the final goodbyes on Sunday afternoon, including the tour itself and the resulting catatonia that made Sweet resort to checking I was still breathing. And of course, last year was the year I went insane with seeing shows, and got myself very securely into financial trouble; so, naturally, it was the year of Jeremy. There were lows and there were highs, and they were few and far between, but didn't feel like it. I re-read the angsts I did back then and they seem so petty and ridiculous; then, I'll have to tell the Jeremy-story to someone again, or show the photos, or explain why I did it, and it all comes flooding back. I start to wonder why I did it. Then, all I have to do is remember that slow-motion movie-freeze-frame moment of spotting him from across the foyer, and I remember. It may be bad for my health, but I've got nobody to blame but myself, and dammit, it's glorious torture...
I turned 21. Sunset, the official present, couldn't have been better, and nor could the birthday gatherings. It was amicable, and just how I wanted it to be. There was also Cats that year, and, before that, the Clauda/Wayne event that I couldn't afford to attend. The two don't seem that synonymous, but, in a way, they are. Sweet and Eve shared something at that event that I couldn't be a part of, and - through nobody's fault - after Cats, and the strain that I seemed to be putting on anything because of having no money, and everything to do with Cats and its closure, it hasn't been quite the same. Eve is busy with her course; Sweet's in the middle of a house-move and a part-time job, and is rarely online, so I haven't spoken to her, at least, since the beginning of this year. It would be easier to let the friendship go, let it drift as so many others have done, but I don't want to; I've met more wonderful people through online fandoms than through anything else, and I refuse to let go.
And, of course, last year, Farscape's fourth season ended, and with it, my obsession filtered away. I still love the show, and if given the chance, I could re-obsess, just like I could everything else I've forgotten - X-Files, Voyager, all the others - but Buffy came along to fill the void; Spuffiness claimed what was lost by John/Aeryn, and provided about as much fic-fodder. One door closes, another opens.
Which brings me to this year. Buffy continues; this has been very much the year of Buffy. I've been off messenger for what feels like months, mainly because sometimes, I just want to be left alone. Or perhaps it's because I've had people this year with whom I've mainly gotten along, give or take the argument at Christmas. Like other years, there have been highs and lows, but I've felt less inclined to write about them on livejournal unless the pressure just got too much to bear. Like other years, I have made new friends, met new people, and - this is becoming a tradition - trotted up to Manchester to see a musical, though I don't really think Hair counts...
I've met people at work, punters who torment me or chat to me or really, really irritate me, and I think I'm going to miss them all (well, most of them...) - having worked in a carvery pub before, the move to a small village pub is quite a change, and a very different atmosphere that I don't think I'll find anywhere else.
The end approaches. I have to figure out what to do with my life, work out where to go from here, find a job... With the end of my university career comes the end of several eras as everything I've obsessed over, every milestone of my life, comes to end. If I'm correct, Frasier should end the Wednesday right before I leave, and Frasier was something that I also associate to that first year (along with all the cringeworthy Niles-induced angst that came with it...)
And throughout it all, I've had my friends from school. I honestly didn't believe I'd still know so many of you, or see so many of you regularly. The ones I've grown apart from are the ones I thought I'd know forever, and those I'd just started to know in sixth form are those I thought would drift away; proves how wrong I was. The people I've known for nearly ten years now - ye gods, that's scary - are those I've drifted away from. I've changed - probably, so have they, but not so drastically - but they've not been around to witness it. To Aisha, it doesn't matter; she just takes me as I come, and listens to what's changed so she can add it to her view of me. To Rachel, it's incomprehensible, in a way, and I don't think she's ever really got to grips with the person I've become. To Crystal, it's just part of who I am, now, and she's never really completely understood me anyway.
But to those who have been there through those changes - Naomi, Lorna, Emily, Sarra, and anyone else I've missed out; to those who have missed the changes, and know me as I am today - Lloyd, Derek, Shilpa, Carrie, Erika, and Eni, and who knows who else besides; to those to whom those changes don't matter, in the scheme of things: Aisha, Clare, Crystal, Rachel, and Vickie; to those who caused the changes - Angela, Katie, Traci, Eve, and Sweet; to those I knew, and will always remember: avem, Mike, the Zen Room, and other random acquaintances; and to anyone else I might have picked up along the way: thank you for taking the journey with me. I'd like to say you've all made me a better person, but, well, the fact is you probably haven't... but I love you for it anyway.
I don't know what the future holds. I don't know what my degree will turn out to be, or what I'll do with it. I don't know if I'll be here in five years, or running a coffeeshop somewhere in Iowa with Katie, as we planned three years ago. But no matter where I am, no matter what I'm doing, and no matter what the future holds for all of you, I hope, in another four years time, I'll be able to do a post like this all over again, and thank the same people for exactly the same reasons.
(And the odds of me doing another post exactly like this one on the 18th is very, very likely...)
Gah. I need more sleep.
The end is nearly here. I'm going on the 19th (which reminds me, I must email my father about taking half of my stuff home before then; I dreamt I forgot last night, and the consequences were less than good.) and will be pretty much on my own until then, save for
last_dance coming the weekend before so we can see Harry Potter and take some photos before I leave the prettiness for good.It's been a strange year, all told. More sociable than all of the others put together, and I've probably made more friends I'll actually stay in contact with than ever before, in the flat alone: I still owe Vicky a gallery page for her website, which I may attempt later if my eyes ever stop aching, and I've got Becky's email address and a command to stay in touch; I've still got Clare's mobile number and should probably try to meet her over the summer, and while I don't have Jo's number, I'm sure we'll meet up at graduation. It's probably a little early to be reminiscing, but I'm in the mood, now...
Four years, I've been here. It seems, at once, both a lot longer than that, and not nearly long enough to have done everything I wanted to do. I still look back with fondness to my first year; until this one, that was the best bunch of flatmates I ever had. Everyone was in the same position: we had to be nice to each other because we had to live together for two out of three semesters, at least. Those were the days of all-day attendance, from 9.00 in the morning for anatomy, to 6.00 in the evening after psychology, four days a week, give or take, and three-day weekends. It was the year I discovered the joys of unlimited internet access, and there was no going back; it's because of that my sleeping pattern is shot to Hell, which is probably less of a good thing. And that year is always synonymous with both the Zen Room, and chatting to Katie and Traci on AIM into the small hours, when saying up all night seemed a challenge, and was planned for in advance with multi-packs of crisps.
It was also the year of Chorus, and meeting Angela, finding a kindred spirit - over alcohol, naturally - in someone perhaps more obsessed with Phantom than me. In fact, I think she honestly kept me sane. Whilst we've not met up as much as I'd like, we are, nevertheless, still in contact.
The year after that was a new start - new halls, new flatmates, new course, new computer, new livejournal, new friends... new obsessions. The year started as it had ended, in a way - still chatting to Katie and Traci, still writing endless Voyager fanfic - and was, in the main, the year of the Farscape obsession, for many reasons. Voyager had ended, and Farscape was just starting season three, and the sheer, utter, heartbreaking angst of that season gave me a way to vent - in fanfic - the frustrations and claustrophobia inside my brain. It was a bad year for me, angst-wise, in the wake of both quitting/failing OT, and the cat dying before I started the year, neither of which I've properly recovered from. Much of the second term was spent going back to Birmingham on Fridays to go out for drinks with Lloyd and Derek, and they were great days. It was the year of
last_dance's Farscape Initiation Weekend, and discovery of the factory, albeit without getting near enough to take photos at the time. It was the year of ennixeve and me with our '2ams', which weren't so much therapy as catharsis.I think the one thing I'll always remember of that time was the start of the Sunset obsession, getting to know
sweeterthing through mutual beta-ing and AIM conversations, and staying up til 6am just to get the latest irritating fluff idea out of my brain, but still managing to get up at 11.00 the next morning... and God, but that room was hot. Writing fic was just a way of putting off the inevitable struggle to sleep through the heat.That summer was the SFX con, and the start of the Buffy obsession which is still around now. The year started with Sunset again, getting to meet Sweet for the first time, and Eve for the second, and having a thoroughly fantastic time in Manchester. I still remember those two days with a sort of dream-like quality, from the meeting at the fire station to the final goodbyes on Sunday afternoon, including the tour itself and the resulting catatonia that made Sweet resort to checking I was still breathing. And of course, last year was the year I went insane with seeing shows, and got myself very securely into financial trouble; so, naturally, it was the year of Jeremy. There were lows and there were highs, and they were few and far between, but didn't feel like it. I re-read the angsts I did back then and they seem so petty and ridiculous; then, I'll have to tell the Jeremy-story to someone again, or show the photos, or explain why I did it, and it all comes flooding back. I start to wonder why I did it. Then, all I have to do is remember that slow-motion movie-freeze-frame moment of spotting him from across the foyer, and I remember. It may be bad for my health, but I've got nobody to blame but myself, and dammit, it's glorious torture...
I turned 21. Sunset, the official present, couldn't have been better, and nor could the birthday gatherings. It was amicable, and just how I wanted it to be. There was also Cats that year, and, before that, the Clauda/Wayne event that I couldn't afford to attend. The two don't seem that synonymous, but, in a way, they are. Sweet and Eve shared something at that event that I couldn't be a part of, and - through nobody's fault - after Cats, and the strain that I seemed to be putting on anything because of having no money, and everything to do with Cats and its closure, it hasn't been quite the same. Eve is busy with her course; Sweet's in the middle of a house-move and a part-time job, and is rarely online, so I haven't spoken to her, at least, since the beginning of this year. It would be easier to let the friendship go, let it drift as so many others have done, but I don't want to; I've met more wonderful people through online fandoms than through anything else, and I refuse to let go.
And, of course, last year, Farscape's fourth season ended, and with it, my obsession filtered away. I still love the show, and if given the chance, I could re-obsess, just like I could everything else I've forgotten - X-Files, Voyager, all the others - but Buffy came along to fill the void; Spuffiness claimed what was lost by John/Aeryn, and provided about as much fic-fodder. One door closes, another opens.
Which brings me to this year. Buffy continues; this has been very much the year of Buffy. I've been off messenger for what feels like months, mainly because sometimes, I just want to be left alone. Or perhaps it's because I've had people this year with whom I've mainly gotten along, give or take the argument at Christmas. Like other years, there have been highs and lows, but I've felt less inclined to write about them on livejournal unless the pressure just got too much to bear. Like other years, I have made new friends, met new people, and - this is becoming a tradition - trotted up to Manchester to see a musical, though I don't really think Hair counts...
I've met people at work, punters who torment me or chat to me or really, really irritate me, and I think I'm going to miss them all (well, most of them...) - having worked in a carvery pub before, the move to a small village pub is quite a change, and a very different atmosphere that I don't think I'll find anywhere else.
The end approaches. I have to figure out what to do with my life, work out where to go from here, find a job... With the end of my university career comes the end of several eras as everything I've obsessed over, every milestone of my life, comes to end. If I'm correct, Frasier should end the Wednesday right before I leave, and Frasier was something that I also associate to that first year (along with all the cringeworthy Niles-induced angst that came with it...)
And throughout it all, I've had my friends from school. I honestly didn't believe I'd still know so many of you, or see so many of you regularly. The ones I've grown apart from are the ones I thought I'd know forever, and those I'd just started to know in sixth form are those I thought would drift away; proves how wrong I was. The people I've known for nearly ten years now - ye gods, that's scary - are those I've drifted away from. I've changed - probably, so have they, but not so drastically - but they've not been around to witness it. To Aisha, it doesn't matter; she just takes me as I come, and listens to what's changed so she can add it to her view of me. To Rachel, it's incomprehensible, in a way, and I don't think she's ever really got to grips with the person I've become. To Crystal, it's just part of who I am, now, and she's never really completely understood me anyway.
But to those who have been there through those changes - Naomi, Lorna, Emily, Sarra, and anyone else I've missed out; to those who have missed the changes, and know me as I am today - Lloyd, Derek, Shilpa, Carrie, Erika, and Eni, and who knows who else besides; to those to whom those changes don't matter, in the scheme of things: Aisha, Clare, Crystal, Rachel, and Vickie; to those who caused the changes - Angela, Katie, Traci, Eve, and Sweet; to those I knew, and will always remember: avem, Mike, the Zen Room, and other random acquaintances; and to anyone else I might have picked up along the way: thank you for taking the journey with me. I'd like to say you've all made me a better person, but, well, the fact is you probably haven't... but I love you for it anyway.
I don't know what the future holds. I don't know what my degree will turn out to be, or what I'll do with it. I don't know if I'll be here in five years, or running a coffeeshop somewhere in Iowa with Katie, as we planned three years ago. But no matter where I am, no matter what I'm doing, and no matter what the future holds for all of you, I hope, in another four years time, I'll be able to do a post like this all over again, and thank the same people for exactly the same reasons.
(And the odds of me doing another post exactly like this one on the 18th is very, very likely...)
Gah. I need more sleep.
