The lights above are unnecessarily bright, with their white dimpled casing and their endless ability to daze and distract. Neither surgeon nor scientist could need such white burning clarity. The muffled moans of mostly drunken and pained young men fill the chemical air. This is where they bring them to recover or repent, a weekly occurrence no doubt.
As realisation of the events of the evening slowly surface, they do so will a rose coloured understanding of what will happen next and exactly what happened before. A room with no windows and the shrieks of a man with unknown torment, what else could one need to start the recovery process. I don't know how so much money can disappear to leave this, successful and often life saving yes, but as with most great institutes, tattered around the edges. Saturday night as many unfortunate souls know it, but never before me. I guess everything happens once, unless you hide away all your years, so this is it, experience. Interesting is once word, unforgettable another, but mostly eye opening. Dear God don't let me end up here again, I may in years to come find myself waking in these surroundings, but one can only hope it is on better and more acceptable terms.
I find it so funny how life can completely change in one day so easily. I am meant to be living the student dream but as I have learnt from so many of my University fellows (especially female) the student dream is not all they sell it to be. Years worth of debt, three years worth of an emotional rollercoaster and then the eventual rat race for any 13k or above job. Motivation for this ‘once in a life time experience’ is wearing thin, as per usual, due to some regrettable white paper by the new government. But I am a cynic and I am not handing out all the facts, University does prepare you for life, it does mould you as a person and in some cases it can show you your path in life. Just not always.
When my unusual Saturday night experience finally came to an end....Monday night, after starvation, irritation and sheer confusion, I have never eyed a bowl of spaghetti Bolognese with such delight. Thank you to the small saving graces in life, those are the things that bring us back to life. The after mass is pretty predictable: home, rest, films, TV, anger, annoyance, exhaustion and endless questions. The question are what mark these periods I find, when has anyone ever before wanted to know so much about me? If I were to hand out this information freely I would be labeled an inappropriate, rambling, emotional idiot, yet now it has become commonplace. I will slowly silence these questions and fit them into a designated weekly slot and allow normality to resume for the other 167 hours of the week. So here I sit, 9:30pm on a Friday night, in my new normality (which I doubt will last), watching a film and blogging, both of which I consider to meet the criteria of 'relaxing and calming activities'. As for what the next 7 Fridays entail, I will not speculate but try my best to do what on that day, at that hour, seems attractive. Spending your days saying ‘yes!’ because the reaction to no is too sad, is no way to spend your days. Being selfish can be an awful trait, but it is also necessary to survive the University days. So first I will sleep, then I will start slowly till eventually I build my weekly routine again around the choices which most please me, without bringing too much displeasure to those around me.
So here’s to trying again