My first homecoming

As a fresher, this was an experience that will remain a strong memory. It was full of realisation and happiness and I can only hope that others can talk of the same relationship with home.
This is a short anecdote but nevertheless a personal insight into my thoughts.

After four weeks of non-stop working and socialising and discovering, I returned to a strangely familiar place I called home. The word 'home' had seeped its way into my vocabulary over the past few weeks in reference to a different place - my new flat in halls.
Upon returning, the first thing I did was try to start my dented, old, rusted, blue car. Clearly my want of adventure never ceased because here I was. I was trying to drive a car that refused to start, abandoned for a month with a grudge against me for leaving it to rust a little more. I think it missed me and I missed it too.
So, I sped down country roads blaring The Smiths as loud as I possibly could with my dad in the passenger seat duetting with Morrisey to 'This Charming Man' like the best friend I never had. The occasion became a memory. It was another memory I could keep of the life I lead back home.

Soon enough I was indulging in the luxuries of non-student life - the food that wasn't own brand, A hot bath and a flat screen TV. I ran around like I was five years old at Disneyland, on a mad frenzy, taking it all in as much as possible. I ran to my cats with hugs and strokes, ignoring their avid attempts to escape my grasp of long lost affection. I ran upstairs to fall daringly backwards on to my parents' double bed, feeling the rush of the air past my ears before landing upon blankets dominated with the smell of washing powder and dust from an old house. I ran to every window to see a different view, faintly remembering all the different ways they looked in each season.

Some attractions in this house were big but the attractions that were small were somehow more fulfilling.

I boiled the kettle just to hear the satisfying click.

But, later on in the evening I was caught by emotion. I was sitting on the sofa in front of 'Have I Got News For You' in my pyjamas with a cup of hot tea, facing our warm, open fireplace. I took in my surroundings again, calmer this time, observant. To my left was the wooden statue of a giraffe my parents had brought back from Africa, to my right a mask from India. Behind me was a grandiose mirror, an antique passed down through my family and the fireplace was ornate and slightly out of place. My old house bore strange looking beams on every wall and ceiling. Upstairs my dad was tucking my little brother into bed. The familiarity stunned me, I never realised how much I'd missed the simple things. All my family were home at once this weekend and this being such a rare occasion, it felt like Christmas. It was a wonderful quality of life.

Strange, how enlightening it was to realise the real differences between university life and home. After talking to a few different people, I realise that they have had different experiences of coming home. Some people left it longer before returning and so their feelings may be stronger. On the other hand, some people have returned home almost every other weekend so the feeling won't be as strong. Others have found the return more relaxing rather than emotional. However, the first homecoming is significant and certainly a great relief to anyone feeling homesick.

To anyone reading this who might be homesick, home would not be home if you do not miss it. Feeling this way means appreciating what you really have. Hang on in there. It takes surprisingly little time for something wonderful to happen that will distract you from missing home so much and maybe it will make life a little more bearable for now. Hold on to this sentiment and know that you are not alone.

University for Introverts

During the first two weeks of university, every single first year's online presence is in competition to see who had the craziest freshers. Who stayed out the latest? Who drank the most alcohol? and after two weeks of straight partying and full on excitement at this new found independence, the homesickness and the physical sickness (i.e.'freshers flu') starts to kick in. Everyone is sneezing and coughing and missing their parents, girlfriends and boyfriends. Suddenly, a night out clubbing until you drop doesn't seem so appealing any more (depending on what you like. If you're still going out every night two or three weeks in, I think you're crazy).

I'm sitting in bed with a cup of tea, freshers are still yelling at the night outside my bedroom window, alcohol pumping through their adrenaline fuelled bodies. I somehow miss home when all I thought about over the summer was university.

One of the things I miss the most is my car. My car symbolises what I love the most about life: travel, adventure, freedom. It also encompasses solitude and friendship. I appreciate the moments when I'm driving alone - letting the music I play enhance the glory of the ride. At the same time I'm driving somewhere to see friends or coming home after a house party. It means I am human and I am living my life. Whereas, here, in my halls at university, I have friends within yards every minute of every day and all the shops are on my doorstep. Whilst the university campus is a short bus ride away, the temptation to stay inside and not have to face the strangers on the bus is far too much. I feel lazy.

I miss not knowing what I'm missing out on. When all my flat mates are out clubbing and I'm sitting in my bedroom doing seminar work that needs to be in the next day, I feel a little bit lonely. I can hear my drunken friends outside our block of flats and I always know where they'll be in the evening. It's the first hand experience of watching other people have more fun than you when duty calls. It makes me worry about the state of my social life in weeks to come.

Truth is, I'm not as scared as I was on the second day. I barely knew the area, I was uncertain, I didn't like the pressure to drink, to stay out late and craved certainty. Two weeks flew by happily and for the first time since the second day, I've sat and thought about where I am right now and what the future holds. Societies will open their doors and I will flourish in their grasp. My course will allow me to expand my knowledge. I will make friends and meet people like I have never known before. I will relish in the opportunities that are given to me. Two or three weeks isn't enough to time to really get to know people or a place and most uncertainties will vanish come Christmas. I guess this is what I tell myself when I feel scared.

My homely bubble of comfort is still a place I can retreat to from time to time but this new way of life isn't so daunting any more. This introvert may cower at the thought of constantly being with others and having to talk to strangers every day. But, so far, I think I've managed a balance between socialising and spending time to myself and I'm pretty proud of it. What I've learned is it's worth trying to be outgoing, but honestly, no one will protest if you disappear into your room for a couple of hours. University is worth it whether you're an introvert or not because at the end of the day you're there to get a good degree and if socialising isn't what you're into then it can wait.

So, all I can say is good luck to my fellow introverts. I might not know much about the way university works yet but I've written down how I honestly feel at this moment in time. I hope I've somehow managed to comfort anyone in the same position as me, perhaps just by letting you know that other people feel the same way. I'm going to emphasise the cliché that everyone is in the same boat because right now, it really is true. Everyone has come to university as a blank canvas. Maybe a couple of friends may be at the same university but it's impossible to remain in the past. I'd say that you should keep that in mind. It helps.

'I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion' - Jack Kerouac

Lessons Learned

I am living in a state of in between - a kind of Limbo. I am in between teenage life and adulthood and I am in between college and university. And just to add to this ever increasing collection of in betweens, I am preparing to move house.

Responsibilities increase every day as bank statements pile up on my desk. My teenager self ignores the numbers on the page - lazy and ignorant. But if the letters didn't exist, if my money didn't exist, I wouldn't be able to live independently as I am so aching to do. Here is my inner battle.

Of course, the biggest uncertainty lies in my educational future. If I don't get the desired results for university, my idea of the future is as chaotic as the artistic arrangement of clothes on my bedroom floor. Thus, uncertainty is at the forefront of my worried mind. I am trying to deal with a life that is about to dramatically change. This is a situation I share with most other 18 year olds.

Some people call it freedom and perhaps it is. During these few weeks, I have a lot of time to do so many things. I could be inter-railing right now or climbing in Machu Picchu. However, nobody lives their life to benefit yours and your friends won't always be there to hang out and invest in the same adventures that you want to pursue. Sometimes people won't be as interested in you as you are them. Most adventures cost money.
Is it really true freedom if all these restrictions are in place?

And so jumping head first into the sea of real life without any armbands is predominantly terrifying. Mistakes will be made, a future is inevitable and life will be lived. Whilst I am living in this in between world, I have come to understand a few things about what the future will hold, about being happy even when the future is uncertain and when a sense of belonging isn't clear.

Here is a short list of what I have come to realise:

• The future is inevitable. When something makes you sad, it's tempting to dwell on the past. But your life will carry on no matter what and you cannot change the past. Learn and move on.
• Mistakes will be made and you shouldn't be afraid of them. If you are making mistakes it means you are doing something with your life, learning and changing. Embrace them.
• Worrying doesn't solve anything. Once you've done what you can, relax. Worrying only makes you feel worse.
• Sometimes you wake up thinking that you're not going to survive the day, but you should laugh and  remember all the days you've thought the same thing and it was never as bad as you expected.
• Getting fed up when you're not doing something exciting, right now, is pointless. There are days when you'll appreciate the chance to be lazy and do nothing. Take advantage of where you are, right now.
• This time, for me at least, is merely a hiatus and instead of dwelling on the idea that your life isn't moving forward at this point in time, relish in still receiving support from your parents but having the independence to live as much as you can. Sometimes being in between teenage life and adulthood isn't such a bad thing after all. 
• There is nothing more boring than a person with a perfect life.

Whatever your results are, you will be fine. Don't let your happiness depend on your results because your life will still be great. Sometimes shit happens.

What is so Romantic about a storm? Why does it make me feel like this?

It was only the other night when the thunder claps shook my ancient house and dark foreboding clouds were illuminated by Zeus's lightning that was thrust upon the earth in short legendary outbursts of anger. Certainly no-one submissive to this rage of nature could have been an athiest in these small hours of the morning. The sheer power of the weather that loomed overhead emphasised how much meaning and value there is in the midst of the bitter, acrid taste of reality.
I could argue there was something romantic or intriguing about how I sat by my window at 3am indulging in the magnificence of it. It was familiar to me as though I should have been the subject of a novel - a tragic love story like Wuthering Heights perhaps, or maybe the tragic story of a reckless teenager. This is because to be Romantic with a capital letter, destruction and tragedy is as much a part of its enchantment as happiness and love, if not more so. This is why my mouth curled at the edges at each strike of lightning. Each sparking ideas in my mind, poetic words swimming around my head, Shakespearean phrases and philosophical wonder. My mind was full and so was my heart because life didn't feel meaningless.

However the storm was fleeting and so was my shameless, self-absorbed idealisation. There is nothing romantic or intriguing about destruction. There is nothing romantic or intriguing about the way you let the poisonous taste of vodka scald the lining of your throat or about the picked scabs at your crooked, fallen knees shaped like scattered islands on a map. Perhaps it just is. It just is.

The storm had manipulated my emotions to such an extent that my heart felt 'full' and this 'fullness' was affiliated with the battle in the sky. It was a mixture of sadness, happiness, awe and melancholy. It was the combination of such differing emotions that truly made me think. When the storm is over and I am suddenly conscious of reality again, there is no more intensity of emotion, nothing even close to how this storm made me feel. But then, in reality, that means there is also not deep sadness. I could see that as a good thing if I want to remain truly happy and content with life. But then again, that 'full' feeling is desirable and reality seems dull in comparison, even though I know that life isn't equal and we all get shitty shares of some of it - I should be happy with what I have. It's almost addictive and its hard to snap out of it when the temptation to indulge is so high like the way the temptation to scratch an insect bite predominates the forefront of your consciousness.

But just like all addictions, the less you give into it the easier it gets and all of a sudden you no longer remember the satisfaction of giving in. That's why the moments after the storm are the most disappointing; because the memory is fresh in your mind and you can't shake the feeling until a few minutes later when you can finally get used to the calm and quiet of the night. At least then you can sleep. Leave the dreams for then.

Perfect Strangers

Talking to strangers, from the day you're born and especially in the U.K has been discouraged vehemently. The notion is fixed in your brain from an early age and once you've left secondary school the friends you've made are ingrained in your life like little splinters under the skin. When you leave, your friends may be set for life. However, chances are you'll lose contact with many. They'll be teased out by the paths of life that take you towards university or straight into the real world where new friends have to be made. Ultimately we all start as strangers and strangers will flow in and out of your life. So, why not make the most of it?

The British are known for their stiff upper lip and we are reluctant to introduce ourselves to the lesser known celebrity on the street or the handsome man at the back of the bus. Each time we make a decision to keep to ourselves, it is a lost opportunity. You could get to know someone who has an incredible story to tell or even someone who may one day become your soul mate. Whilst some may not welcome a simple introduction at a bus stop, there is no harm in trying.
Isn't it strange how your best friend was once just another kid in your class at school or how you may have once walked past your future significant other in the street and had absolutely no idea? You may have walked past a future Nobel prize winner or accidentally bumped unknowingly into an up and coming Hollywood movie star. They say that you're no more than five handshakes away from everyone in the world and I want to try and decrease that number. It doesn't need to be a handshake but a simple 'Hello' is a good start.

A week ago I met and conversed with Arthur Darvill at The National Theatre in London. I thought to myself, if I had missed the opportunity for this brief encounter due to shyness, I'd have spent at least the next twenty-four hours mentally pinching myself over my sheer stupidity. And God, I'm so glad I had the courage to walk up to him and chat because I genuinely appreciate his work. Many people suffer anxiety over what celebrities may think of them but as long as you don't attack them with unwelcome, exaggerated affection, they're bound to appreciate acknowledgement.

But celebrities aren't always the most interesting people around. Sometimes the best lack all conviction; the most inspiring are sometimes the quietest people who may have the loudest minds. Even looks don't determine likeability - simply look at the Kardashians. The seemingly average boy who sits opposite you in class may have the ability to make you laugh so much you cry.

Something which has often occurred to me is how "We're only supporting characters in the lives of each other". We simply don't consider that the people you pass on the streets or in the corridors at college, have lives and thoughts as complex and exciting as your own. For me, part of the fun of getting to know someone is working that out. Perhaps that's why talking to strangers appeals to me so much. Of course I use my common sense to work out who might be happy to chat and who might be a dodgy character, but I suppose we shouldn't be as cynical as we are about the general public. After all "The best lack all conviction and the worst are full of passionate intensity".

I don't want to miss out on the best parts of life just because I waited for it to come to me. You've got to reach out and explore.

Maybe I'll take a small risk and compliment a stranger tomorrow.