Blogging Goodbye to Butterflies

Chapter One

Where it all began.

In Chapter One, I’m returning to Cardiff for my second year at University.

As a fresher, I struggled with home sickness and anxiety like I never had before. I went into second year resolving to face up to the butterflies and embrace the chaos and *spoiler warning* ended the year feeling proud, reflective and hopeful…

  • The start of a new journey

    I went and bought a beautiful new mirror for my university room today. I also bought a lovely new diary. It’s cream and pink with flowers on the front, but not in a way that’s too little girly (I don’t think). When I got home, I took a look at my enrolment emails from Cardiff University and made a note of the key dates, pencilling in essential information where needed.

    My anxiety seemed to be at bay and so, I even sat and worked out exactly how much money I’m going to have to spend each month and started googling retail jobs, hoping to find someone in Cardiff who wants to hire a Bronwen for the year, but doesn’t mind letting her go home for Christmas and Easter.

    Then, another email arrived from the university’s School of Music and I started reading about auditions for operas and choirs and it all became too real and way too scary. Just like that, I felt like my anxious, fresher self was back to haunt me and the idea of finding myself, conquering life and living independently suddenly wasn’t as appealing as a positive Bronwen would have told you it was.

    And now, I have to confess, the thought of going back for my second year in two weeks is terrifying. The anxiety is no-longer at bay and it’s coming at me in riptides. During my first year as a student, I struggled with anxiety like I never have before. Nothing scares me more than going back to face all the nerves of being a student again, except perhaps the thought of auditioning for operas when I get there! Or the spider that my dad just had to come into my bedroom and save me from.

    So I’m not a spider fighter just yet, but I can conquer university this time, right? There is a braver Bronwen in here somewhere.

  • Two days till Take Two

    Just two more days left in Chelmsford.

    Part of me wants to ring Cardiff University and tell them I won’t be studying there this year after all because I’m sissying out and I’d like to stay home. I want to cry every time I consider saying another temporary goodbye to my friends and family. I’m meant to be a university student now, but I feel like I’m sixteen again and all I should be doing is spending time with friends at the park, going to Smirnoff Ice house parties and worrying about GCSE results . When I imagine waking up in my new room at uni on Sunday morning I want to run up to bed, hide under the duvet and never come out.

    The other part of me keeps telling everyone who asks just how much I am looking forward to going back to Cardiff and how I cannot wait for the fresh start. This part isn’t lying either, there is a part of me (quite a big part of me) that is exploding with enthusiasm. I cannot wait to unpack and decorate my new student room, to go out in the city with friends I haven’t seen in ages, to experience my first university house parties (now everyone has moved into second year houses all over Cardiff), to get a job, even to sit surrounded by books in the library studying a brand new and hopefully interesting topic.

    And I may be sad summer is over, but I was admittedly a little excited when I had to pull a scarf out of my wardrobe to wear yesterday and even when I left the house with an umbrella.

    How one Bronwen can feel so scared and so excited all at one time baffles me.

  • Time to step in at the deep end

    The car is all packed up and it is time to go. First year I jumped in at the deep end (heading all the way to Cardiff to study before I even felt ready) and then spent the year doggy paddling and treading water. This year I’m going to step in to the deep end, keep my head above the water and swim.

    Packing was an even bigger hassle than the first time ’round. If it’s possible, I think I’ve gotten even more unorganised. Most things are chucked in the car individually and if not they are in random boxes: There really is no method to the madness.

    I’m so excited I can’t stay sitting down for longer than two seconds and I haven’t stopped smiling all morning and yet so scared that the butterflies in my stomach won’t rest either. I don’t feel like eating, but that could be something to do with the fact I went out out last night and had one too many shots of sours. Drinking and dancing the night away was the perfect way to say goodbye to Chelmsford and to all of my friends until Christmas, even if it has left me a little delicate today.

    Anyway, sleep in the car should get rid of the bags under my eyes and lack of appetite shouldn’t be a problem for long: I have never successfully resisted purchasing food or coffee at a motorway services before now. I am sure by the time we stop for lunch I’ll be happy to eat as much as is Bronwenly possible.

    Now, to stop using my blog as an excuse, shut the laptop, get in the car and choose the best song to start the journey with. In roughly four hours time I should be collecting my keys from the letting agency and heading into my new flat. Here goes.

  • Thank goodness for dongles, wellies and hairdryers

    Sat on the sofa jumping every time I catch a glimpse of a van as it turns down our street in the hope it’s either the delivery man with our TV or the man from virgin here to set up our WiFi. So far every van has turned in the opposite direction. Luckily, I’ve discovered the dongle: A magical device that connects your laptop to the internet through the mobile network.

    Moving day was a success. We may have left two hours later than we’d expected to, but I managed to gobble up a burger king on the way here despite the nerves and I remembered everything besides extension leads and screw drivers.

    I took my time settling into my new student room, and may have hit my head on the slanted ceiling several times while doing so, but now I’m settled I’m really happy with it. The atmosphere in the flat when I arrived was amazing, everyone was ridiculously excited and the boys were already discussing ordering pizzas, buying drinks and heading out that evening. As weird as it felt to be back at university and to be going to Cardiff pubs and bars, we had an awesome night. Starfishing in my double bed at half one in the morning, in my new room, having just been out with my new flatmates, I was a happy Bronwen.

    Since then I’ve been to visit some of my other uni friends, who despite my fears haven’t forgotten who I am over the summer, been to a pub quiz that was no match for the one I go to every Sunday in Chelmsford (which made my heart ache just a little), bought hoodies to replace the ones I lost over the summer, handed out job applications and CVs and lost horrendously at chess.

    Today we braved the rain and gales we woke up to, grabbed wellies and umbrellas and headed out to complain at the letting agency about the broken washing machine and windows. The rest of our time has been spent playing card games and attacking the freezer, which frosted over during the summer, with a hair dryer in the hope of being able to buy frozen food soon.

    As is to be expected I miss home, but I am settling in here AND having a great time… With little time to stop and think, I’m yet to consider jumping on a bus and retreating.

    It’s my turn to cook tonight, so I’m about to head to Tesco. Breaking all of the rules and heading to Tesco with my tummy rumbling, but hoping I’ll still be able to resist buying the whole shop.

  • Singing goodbye to butterflies in the shower

    Caught myself singing in the shower, wondered ’round with a towel turban on my head, left my stuff all over the sofa while I went out last night, sung opera in my bedroom AND let my iTunes music shuffle freely without cringing when The Circle of Life started playing. One week here and it feels like home already.

    Feels so good to be sat on an actual sofa, curled up among the cushions writing this post with a cup of tea on the go. Being a fresher, sat on my bed hiding from the outside world, feels like a distant memory. As does nervously heading to the communal space in our university halls and sitting on a hard, plastic chair at the kitchen table.

    Life as a second year student so far has been different to life as a fresher in so many ways…

    As soon as I wake up in the morning I come downstairs in my pyjamas.

    My bedroom door here is almost always open and so are everyone else’s.

    Heading out in the evenings is easy now we know where to head and on which nights.

    I know the quickest route into town and into university and back, and I didn’t have to try three different routes to find the best.

    I feel so much more comfortable living with my friends, in a beautiful city that I now know and love.

    We may still be lacking internet and our washing machine may be broken, but the butterflies that lived in my stomach permanently last year seem to have temporarily fallen asleep this year already. Who would have thought it!? Now to conquer the world.

  • Powering through Fresher’s flu

    Can you still call it Fresher’s flu when you’re in your second year and you’re not a fresher anymore? Student flu perhaps? University flu? An adult cold?

    Whatever you call it, I’ve been poorly this week and had I written this just 24 hours ago it would have been filled with complaints.

    Yesterday, I had a horrendous day: I broke a glass when I was washing up, I found loads of important unread emails from my university, the internet kept crashing while I was trying to send replies, I nearly blew up the kitchen because I didn’t realise there was oil in the bottom of the oven when I turned it on and let it heat up to 200 degrees celsius… Ok, so the day could have been much worse, but with a runny nose and a head that felt the size of Jupiter I found myself curled up in bed with a sad face on wanting to do absolutely nothing, except perhaps head back to Chelmsford and curl up there with a cup of tea and my family.

    My cold ridden self did however manage to book herself an audition for Cardiff University’s opera this semester and did manage to reply to emails despite the lack of internet connection. The audition is Monday evening and I’m… I’m not saying I’m terrified, not if admitting that means risking the return of butterflies just as I’m enjoying a beautiful and much needed bowl of Crunchy Nut cereal.

    Once I’d had dinner I started to feel slightly better and my amazing friend gave me a glass of wine and convinced me out of the house and into a night club for the night. (My decision may have also been influenced by the fact it was ‘Propaganda’s Giveaway Party’ and they claimed to be handing out Nandos vouchers.) I had an amazing night, forgot all about my nose and my head, bought McDonald’s at the end of it and still made it out of bed and to enrolment this morning.

    Despite the fact I felt a little nervous when my alarm went off and I realised it was time to head into the music department for the first time this semester, once I was up and about I was surprisingly calm. By the time I was walking towards the university I was on a high just because I’d conquered step one: Get out of bed and make it out the front door by nine. Enrolment was much simpler than it was first year. Maybe because there was less to do, or maybe just because I was better prepared and less scared.

    My cold is back to haunt me this afternoon, the Tesco near me aren’t selling the Beechams’ cold medicine that until now I haven’t made it through a cold without and the audition is on Monday but my throat hurts and my cough doesn’t seem as if it will be going away anytime soon. I’m eating a late breakfast and I’ve drank more orange juice than is healthy, I’ll spend the rest of the day keeping warm and maybe cook something hot and spicy tonight. I’ll speak through my audition piece later; running through pronunciation doesn’t require a healthy throat. If I wake up with a voice as low as a man’s and as croaky as a frog’s tomorrow morning then perhaps I will panic, until then I know I have three days still left to recover before my audition, I can spend all day in bed tomorrow if I want to and I’m feeling positive.

  • From Surviving to Thriving – Student life is taking a turn for the better

    I should be the size of a hippo after eating everything I’ve eaten this week. I blame Papa Johns for tempting me with their 99p offer Tuesday night and Just Eat for making it so easy to order Chinese take away when you get home late on a Wednesday evening. My equivalent of comfort food has become the occasional piece of healthy food I eat. For example, when I ate an orange after the Chinese on Wednesday, I could have sworn I felt the vitamin C loving bits of me jumping for joy.

    On Sunday night, this week terrified me. Now I’m sat on my bed, thinking about what I’m going to wear out tonight, surrounded by laundry that I discovered dries quickly hanging from the open sky lights in my room, procrastinating expertly and wondering what all the fuss was about. I’ve spent the afternoon curled up on the sofa drinking tea, reading the book on British History that I have become slightly addicted to and feeling productive despite the fact the book I was supposed to read today was based on the Dreyfus Affair in France.

    I didn’t get into either the Opera or the Operatic Society concert. The audition went surprisingly well considering how ill I’d felt the day before. Expecting it to be a complete disaster, I was pleased when I left and I had managed to at least sing the whole piece. Monday evening, after the audition when I met one of my best friends for coffee, I was feeling positive. Aside from managing to sing my piece, I’d spent a few hours in the library covering the reading for the lecture Tuesday morning and I’d been to my first music lecture of the year without freaking out too.

    Tuesday, I think, was the best day of the week. I had to get up at 7:30 for a lecture that exhausted my brain because it lasted an hour and a half, but I finished the day with the previously mentioned 99 pence meat feast pizza, attended my first Chinese class and went on a night out. Chinese class was brilliant. By the end of the lesson I was ridiculously excited about the fact I could say Chinese numbers 1-10, say hello, goodbye and thank you, tell someone my name is Bronwen and I am British and ask their name and nationality in return. Me and my flatmate spent the entirety of the walk home having the same conversation in Chinese over and over again. The night out was a good one, as they always seem to be, but the early start had got the better of me and I was home and tucked up in bed by two in the morning with McDonald’s chicken nuggets in my belly and a whopping great smile on my face.

    After my lecture Wednesday morning (which I was very happy I made it out of bed and into) I went job hunting again. When I went to hand a CV into The Entertainer Toy Shop they wouldn’t take it. They said they had finished hiring for the Christmas period already, but told me to wait a moment so they could double check. I ended up in a group interview for two hours having much more fun than I would have expected to have in an interview. I was completely unprepared, but the staff all seemed friendly and welcoming and the spontaneity of it all meant my butterflies didn’t make even a brief appearance. They said they’d call me on Friday if they wanted me to attend the Christmas meeting and work with them over the season and on Friday I got a call. If everything goes well at the meeting I can consider myself employed. I am trying me very hardest not to jinx things by mentioning how excited I am about the idea of working at a Toy Shop over Christmas helping children choose what they want from Santa, but I AM SO EXCITED. Yes, Santa is real.

    The rest of the week has been just as amazing. I had a lecture on Chinese history which I know I’m going to become geekishly interested in. I wore my jelly bean wellies out the house and successfully resisted the urge to jump in puddles or sing ‘Singing in the Rain’ whilst spinning my umbrella. I planned on heading out last night, but at the last minute chose to curl up with chicken, chips, an awesome friend and a disney movie instead of heading to the club. Tonight I am going out and I’ve spent so long trying to decide what to wear that I’m starting to wonder if I actually own nice clothes. Tomorrow I’m spending the day with my head in a book again, hopefully the right one this time.

    I’m not an opera star just yet, but I am a Toy Shop sales assistant and I have conquered a week of lectures and loved it. I’m hippo-size and happy.

  • Deciding what’s next after university

    One minute I’m ridiculously excited over a quote from a book on an interesting historical topic or I’m so engrossed in writing the opinionated conclusion to my essay that I forget it isn’t cool to be caught enjoying coursework. The next minute I’m stood in my room singing Mozart’s Agnus Dei, loving it and deciding that singing is what I want to do for the rest of my life.

    Since the age of 5 I’ve been telling people I want to be an author or as I get older, a journalist: Younger Bronwen stapled pieces of A5 paper together, designed front covers in felt-tip and crayon and then wrote numerous ‘Chapter Ones’ for what she planned would be hugely successful novels. She bought note pads and then ripped out half the pages just because she decided the story she’d written inside wasn’t worthy of publishing.

    When I discovered singing at the age of 9 suddenly, that was all I wanted to do. One performance on stage turned into two, which turned into three and before I knew it I was addicted. Performing on stage isn’t comparable to anything else I’ve done or I think, anything I will ever do. Nothing annoys me more than a frog in my throat or a cold that stops me singing. Nothing clears my head more than an hour spent at the piano singing and playing until I forget what on Earth I had to escape from in the first place. Or of course a few minutes in the spotlight scared out of my socks, but up on cloud nine.

    My first meeting with my tutor this year ended with a discussion about the future; about what I planned to do when I left University and ventured out into the big wide world. I could go on to study Journalism; review musical concerts, lead political debates, write agony aunt columns. I could study Post Graduate Music at a conservatoire in the hope of becoming a professional performer. I realised just how hard the decision is going to be. For one thing I still go through days when both singing and writing are stressing me out so much that I don’t want to face either of them. Who knows? Maybe I’ll decide I want to do something completely different.

    All I know is, it’s time for breakfast and I need food for thought. Hot Cross Buns it is.

     

  • Conquering a Busy Student Life – The early bird catches the worm

    When I woke up Tuesday morning it was still dark. I felt like I should be jumping on an aeroplane and heading somewhere exciting, jumping behind the steering wheel of my car and driving across the country or just retreating under the duvet until the sun decided to put his hat on. In reality I’d set myself an early alarm so I would have enough time to wash my hair and get organised before my two hour lecture and my work induction. Being me, I still didn’t have enough time and I spent the morning running around like a headless chicken. The induction at work was almost a complete disaster, but I made it through and back out the shop with The Entertainer uniform in hand and rumbles in my tummy. I gave into temptation and dropped into Gregg’s, browsed all the shelves trying to convince myself to be experimental and try something new and then ordered my usual. (“A sausage, bean and cheese melt and a piece of Rocky Road, please?”) I had an amazingly productive afternoon, Chinese went really well, yet another walk home was filled with mine and my flatmates Chinese conversation and then I got an early night.

    Wednesday was just as busy. I got up early, although it wasn’t dark this time. Had time for a cup of tea before leaving for lectures. Managed to enjoy lectures. Had an amazing lunch. Spent half the afternoon singing, first at choir and then in a practice room. Flopped in my flat mate’s room for hours while she baked bread (Inspired by the Great British Bake Off). Had a beautiful beef casserole dinner. Puzzled over more articles on the T’i-yung dichotomy in China. Went to a choir social at a pub five minutes walk from my front door and met lovely new people. Bought Chinese take away and curled up with my flatmates in the lounge, sharing jokes until the early hours of the morning.

    I never thought I’d say it, but I think early mornings are the way forward. I’ve been up since eight today as well and I’ve been so productive that every part of me is buzzing. Laying in bed for hours every morning just leaves me feeling tired, smelly and lazy. Goodbye wasted mornings.

  • There’s no place like home

    It felt like the entirety of my weekend at home had been nothing more than a dream when I woke up this morning; the horribly stressful journey back to Cardiff being the disastrous ending that finally woke me up. It feels like I went to sleep after the Halloween party last Thursday and I’ve been asleep ever since. A big part of me wants to curl up and go back to dreaming of home so I don’t have to face today. Today is my first day at work and the day of my first rehearsal for my first concert of the semester. Today is terrifying.

    Friday morning I wasn’t anywhere near as excited as I expected to be. I woke up with the biggest smile on my face, but only because the night before had been such great fun. I was happy because Halloween had been amazing and it hadn’t quite clicked that a megabus was going to take me home that afternoon. I got up, got ready and headed out to hand in my first music assignment of the year. I daydreamed my way through the entirety of my history lecture and then when I realised the time, half walked half ran home to pack. Time went by ridiculously quickly and before I knew it, I was sat on my bed eating my lunch as quickly as Bronwenly possible, because I knew I needed to get to the bus stop. In true Bronwen fashion I got half way up the road before realising I’d forgotten my purse and had to turn around to grab it. I caught the bus just as it was about to leave. The driver thankfully got down from his seat, smiled at me and let me chuck my bag in the hold. It took me six hours to get home, but when I did I was beyond happy. Home looked amazing and smelled amazing and my mum had left me a portion of chille con carne to reheat and eat when I got in.

    Saturday morning my mum woke me up with a cup of tea and asked if I fancied a drive out of Chelmsford to pick my sister up from a family friend’s house. At first it felt ridiculous to even consider leaving my warm and comfortable bed, especially now I had a cup of tea in hand. As it dawned on me that this was day 1 of 2 at home I began to change my mind. I didn’t want to waste anymore time in bed. I jumped in the shower, my mum made us the most amazing breakfast and then we jumped in the car. I think I had forgotten just how much I love being behind the steering wheel. The drive left me on cloud nine. I spent the whole journey head bobbing and steering wheel tapping without shame. We joined our friends for a coffee in Costa before heading back. Sat with my mum and our family friends, drinking a Costa Caramel Latte I was ridiculously happy. I spent the afternoon being the laziest I’ve been in weeks and my dad ordered pizza in for dinner. We went to see the Fireworks display in Danbury (a Maggs family tradition at this time of year) and as usual it was incredible. Stood linking arms with my mum and brother, my dad with his arm around my sister just in front of us, I felt like I had the leading role in the very happy ending to a film. I was really ill when I got home, my guess is the cold got to me and the tiredness hit too. I missed out on joining some of my friends at the pub and had to head to bed at eleven before it felt like I had quite made the most of my day.

    I got up fairly early again on Sunday, feeling much better after sleeping. It felt like I’d never left: I helped myself to cereal and joined my mum in the lounge. She was watching a Christmas film. Normally I would have objected considering November has only just begun but I was drawn in when one of the characters announced he was banning Christmas and the sale of toys. My mum made an amazing lamb roast dinner, I went shopping for work trousers and before I knew it I was packing up and heading back to Cardiff again. Saying a temporary goodbye to my family once again made me feel just as sad as usual. The journey home was horrible: Trains were late, I was late, buses were late, it rained loads, I did the walk home in a complete daze thinking only of bed and of putting my heavy bag down.

    And then I woke up, back in Cardiff, curled up in bed as if I’d never been away.

  • Balancing work and study: Part time sales assistant, full time student

    I feel like my heart never stops beating too fast and the butterflies are back with a vengeance and that maybe this job wasn’t such a good idea after all.

    The first week that I had to juggle lectures and work shifts I was overwhelmed simply by making sure I was where I needed to be and when I needed to be there. Then, when I got back home I found I was absolutely shattered: I found food, cooked it, ate it, collapsed in bed and fell asleep. I never took a moment to actually decompress or relax.

    My first Sunday free of work or lectures was spent reminding myself what I love to spend my free time doing. Reminding myself how to relax and realising there are some bits of university life which I need to make time for, no-matter how tired I am.

    I love the night clubbing, book reading, essay writing (yes, even that), music studying, opera singing, film watching, friend seeing, takeaway eating bits of university life. Even if it’d only been a week, I realised I’d missed those bits.

    So, at the risk of becoming very slightly sleep deprived, I rediscovered my evenings. Week two, I got back in from work or from lectures, ate food and then, instead of sleeping right away, did something for myself. Whether that was to head to an awesome friend’s house and eat pizza, get distracted by social networks/YouTube videos and get some of my music essay written, head to a night club, or curl up in pyjamas with my head in a book to cover the history reading for my next seminar.

    I’ve never appreciated my Sunday morning lie-ins more.

    I’m trying to stay positive, but this is more testing than I ever imagined. I can’t win. I’m making a daily choice between sleep and those things that make me happy. The week just gone was the most hectic week so far! I can’t help looking forward to working my last shift Christmas eve already.

    Now the countdown to Christmas has begun I’m holding onto hope that things are going to get a little easier. I’m glad I’m making the time for the things I love and there is an end in sight. Here’s hoping that it’ll all be worth it in the long run.

  • Smiling like a student home for Christmas

    I’m finally home.

    My last two days in Cardiff before Christmas were so much better than I expected. I was expecting to simply spend them at the flat, by myself, working my last couple of shifts and watching the clock tick by. BUT my amazing flatmate stuck around an extra day after her last shift at her work (I’m not the only one juggling a job and a degree) to keep me company… We spent Christmas eve’s eve curled up with wine and chocolates, watching a film, exchanging presents and then talking until the early hours of the morning.

    Christmas eve wasn’t far from perfect. I succeeded in getting out of bed, despite the late night, and had breakfast with her before she headed out to get her train home. Then I finished packing, got ready and headed into work for my final shift. Work was the same as always, except for the fact I didn’t start till ten, we were all in comic Christmas costumes and there were ridiculous amounts of staff room snacks.

    My dad and sister met me at the flat after my shift. The drive home was so exciting I’m surprised I didn’t cry. Instead I just sat there smiling hugely and constantly reminding my dad and my little sister that I was ridiculously happy. I got home, stole hugs, went to bed and before I knew it, it was Christmas day.

    Christmas day was overwhelming. I’d only just got home, before I was jumping in the car and heading to my grandparents home. I ate so much food I’m surprised I didn’t explode. I nearly overheated in a house full of radiators that felt like an oven in comparison to my student flat. I saw my grand parents and the entirety of my dad’s side of the family all at once, when I’d only just gotten used to having my immediate family around again. I got loads of lovely presents and woke up boxing day morning to find myself out on a walk in the country side (which I think I had forgotten existed).

    Since then I’ve been unpacking, getting organised, working out how to make the most of three weeks at home and worrying about how I’m going to get all my uni work done.

    Today, I stopped worrying and I spent a whole day doing nothing for the first time in a long time. Having been on an amazing night out last night, I spent the morning in bed and then a few hours after that curled up on the sofa, cautiously eating dry toast and tomato soup, wondering if a hang over was going to hit me any time soon. Now I’m sat in my bedroom, having finally showered at five in the evening, wearing my onesie, singing along to my iTunes library, waiting for roast dinner to be cooked and smiling ear to ear.

    All I need to do now is decide what I’m going to say when I get to the hairdressers tomorrow morning, sit down in the chair and he asks me how I want my hair.

    Being me, I’ll consider cutting it all off, I’ll wonder if it’s about time I dyed it a crazy colour, I’ll tell myself I should try something new for the new year then I’ll decide I’d like it just the way it is, but just slightly shorter please.

  • Expert Procrastinator

    Sat at my desk doing nothing other than daydreaming out of my window and singing along to my shuffling iTunes library. There is so much I should be doing. My room looks like a small bomb hit it. I’m sat next to a pile of books so high I’m surprised I managed to transport it from Cardiff to home. My head is filled with dates for my diary that I haven’t been writing down.

    Home comforts are beautiful, but they turn me into an incredibly lazy individual.

    I headed back to Cardiff with my Mum for a couple of days last week. I needed to be back so that I could hand a music assignment in, but I wasn’t ready to head back permanently just yet. My mum hadn’t seen my new flat. She hadn’t even spent much time in Cardiff itself: The last time she came to visit she spontaneously turned up for an afternoon just after my 19th birthday… We crammed a lunch, a catch up, a shopping trip and student-style dinner into what felt like five minutes and then she headed home again.

    This time, we spent two days tea drinking, restaurant dining, musical-seeing (Priscilla Queen of the Desert is a must-see; it had me smiling all the way through), drink sharing, Wetherspoons’ breakfast eating, sight-seeing, friend visiting, assignment handing in-ing AND shopping.

    I have now bought myself one more week at home to get organised, catch up on all of my reading, spend time with my family, see any friends still left in Chelmsford and eat as much food as is bronwenly possible.

    Hoping I’ll feel ready to head back once moving day comes around. I’m sure I will.

  • The day before I leave home for university again

    Having just spent five whole minutes sat in the middle of my bedroom floor wondering where on Earth I am supposed to begin, I am beginning to wonder whether I will ever get used to this whole ‘packing my bedroom into boxes’ thing. If I’m honest, when I sit in my room deciding what to pack, all I want to do is convert the entire bedroom into a car which I can drive to Cardiff, convert back into a room and then live in. Yes, I do still want all 5000 of my Jacqueline Wilson books and I am definitely going to need to pack every item of clothing I’ve ever owned due to a strange sentimental attachment I have to it all that I can’t really explain. Yes, I do want to take my silver spoon collection with me, all of my ‘Now That’s What I Call Music’ CDs and every fluffy pen I bought during my last year of primary school. I need the pine furniture I grew up with, including the bunk bed… Even if it is no good for star-fishing in. My family and friends from Chelmsford can come along too right?

    Ok, so I will not fit my whole bedroom and every Chelmsfordian I love in the car and I’m not actually quite that sentimental. My point is… this is the hardest part. I am really looking forward to heading back to university now. The journey always goes amazingly quickly and I actually quite enjoy the four hours preparation time I get before life goes crazy again. Moving in is always good fun and so is the first night in or out with flatmates I’ve missed loads. Seeing my university friends, going on nights out and using my brain again always does me the world of good. So does having the freedom to order chinese at eleven in the evening just because I’m hungry, studying got too hard and chow mein is amazing.

    The hardest part is today… the day you have to come to terms with the fact its time to pack up one life and continue living another. I can never help feeling a little emotional. Today is the day I empty my room and fill the hall way with an abundance of toiletries, books, clothes and high heeled shoes. The day I plan to spend packing, friend and family seeing and eating my body weight in food, but end up curled up on a sofa telling myself I will pack soon… Telling myself I’m not putting it off because I don’t want to think about leaving and saying goodbye, I am just making the most of home comforts.

    But hey, all I’ve got to do is stop using my blog as an excuse, shut the laptop, pack, head out to dinner with an amazing friend and then sleep. Before I know it, it will be tomorrow.

    ‘Goodbye’ has a bad reputation, but it’s not always all that bad. Especially when its temporary.

  • Overcoming Winter Blues at Uni: Sunshine, Cocktails and Flappy Birds

    I am no expert, but I think I’ve been suffering from a serious case of the infamous winter blues.

    January and February, through no real fault of their own, have very bad reputations. January signifies the end of the holiday season and our return to every day life. It is as we struggle through January’s wind and rain that we begin to realise just how far away the summer really is. February is infamous because by February most of us notice we’ve already failed the New Year Resolutions we were determined to keep. It always tends to be a struggle for us single folk, no matter how much we claim we love the single life and completely oppose Valentine’s Day.

    As someone who has always been just as fond of the winter as the summer, normally I wouldn’t sympathise. (Snow, wooly jumpers, wellington boots, yummy Christmas leftovers, what’s to complain about?) This year, for the first time, I understand. Since coming back to Cardiff I’ve spent an unjustifiable amount of time in my onesie, drinking wine, eating chocolate and ice cream, cuddling my hot water bottle, watching TV in bed, singing love ballads and wishing I were Bridget Jones. I’ve spent a ridiculous amount of time complaining about slow internet connectivity, my lack of boyfriend, the cold, the wind, the rain, and my subsequent lack of determination.

    Then last Friday, Cardiff woke up to sunshine. Me and my flatmate spent the day making the most of it. Sat on a bench, eating hot cross buns in the sun, I found myself smiling hugely. When we left the pub after getting cocktails that evening and it was raining again, I didn’t even grumble. I walked home alongside her, sharing her umbrella and singing songs from various musicals. It failed to bother me when it rained Saturday night because I was babysitting in a warm house, on a sofa, curled up with a cat, a cup of tea and two lovely children who introduced me to the infuriating world of Flappy Bird. When it was raining on Sunday, I was in the library, feeling abnormally determined and powering through reading for the history seminars of the week.

    I am sure that days like today can be blamed for winter blues Wales-wide. To say that the walk into the university was difficult would be an understatement: Gale force winds pushed me forwards, backwards, sideways and very nearly straight into someone’s dustbin. BUT, university today was well worth the journey. I went to two and a half hours of music lectures which were probably the most interesting lectures I’ve been to since coming to Cardiff. In the afternoon I had a meeting with my history lecturer, who in just half an hour, managed to make me feel like I could conquer the world. I couldn’t tell you what it was he said that gave me so much enthusiasm, but I left his office wanting to run home, boil the kettle, make tea and immediately start writing my essay.

    Now, I’m sat smiling hugely and wondering what on earth I had to moan about. I’m not really sure where this determination came from… exposure to sunlight, introduction to Flappy Birds? How ever it got here I hope it stays. As for the winter blues, no matter how much rain I have to power through this week, I hope I’ve seen the back of them.

  • Life has been a little crazy, that’s all

    Trying to work out how to justify the fact I haven’t blogged in over a month and considering giving up trying. Life has been a little crazy, that’s all. In just over a month I’ve written five essays, finally found the courage to go along to music socials, met some amazing new people and become president of a choir society.

    I got my life back when I handed in my last two essays on Wednesday. It turned out that all an end to deadlines really meant, was a return to chores. I came back to life to find that I’d been a living in a mess of a bedroom, I had no clean clothes left and I had no food in the fridge. I spent Wednesday afternoon sorting my life out.

    I spent the last two days storming around town, trying on dresses, deciding I hated all of them and wishing I could turn up to the end of year, 1920’s themed, music ball in skinny jeans. I very nearly headed to the ‘men’s formal’ section of Debenhams to find myself a suit and a tie and some jazzy musical socks. I should have been a boy. Luckily when I turned up at her house, collapsed on her sofa and demanded tea, an amazing friend reminded me to breathe and after shopping trip number two I’ve ended up with a reasonably 1920’s style, actually kinda lovely, skirt and top combo.

    Today so far has been spent in bed in pyjamas with my keyboard and my laptop, preparing for a keyboard test that’s tomorrow, getting distracted by netflix and trying not to panic about the fact I’m going to the ball tonight. I know I am bound to do something ridiculous… give myself mascara panda eyes, walk into a door and give myself a black eye, make it to the ball then spill gravy down my skirt, fall over on my way to the after party, who knows. Hopefully, whatever happens it is going to be an amazing night. My keyboard test on the other hand? That is going to be a complete disaster.

     

  • Mixed emotions about heading home for Easter break

    Sat on my bed in my half empty room, in my very empty flat, listening to the radio and waiting for my dad to arrive and take me home. This semester has flown by. One minute I was taking on January exams and celebrating being back in Cardiff after spending a wonderful Christmas at home with the family I’d missed huge amounts. The next I was handing in the last of my coursework and letting my dad know when I wanted him to head over, pick me up and take me home for the Easter break.

    Trying to figure out why on Earth I’m so nervous. By this point, I’d usually be overwhelmed by the excitement and I’d be thinking of nothing other than home comforts and hugs from Maggs family members. My closest friends would probably tell me that, seeing as I am permanently nervous about something or other, I shouldn’t waste my time worrying about it.

    I have a feeling I’m nervous about the fact I have to start revision for the summer exams once I’m home.

    Perhaps I’m just nervous about changing lives again. It sounds silly, but I’d just got used to living this one.

    This could even be a delayed reaction to all of the craziness of the last few weeks. This week has been craziest of all. I find it so hard to believe that I’ve just finished the last of my second year lectures, when the last day of first year still feels like only yesterday. I never ever want to be a third year student; I am going to spend the entirety of the exam period so torn between wanting the hard work to be over and not wanting the year to end.

    If anything I should be delighted I’ve come so far. At the start of this year I had no idea whether I was ready to conquer university by myself or not; I was terrified. Now, I’m so comfortable here I’m not even sure I’m ready to leave. Deep and meaningful musings aside, the last week of term was amazing and home is going to be beautiful. It always is.

  • Realising I’m growing up

    My room at home has been pink and fluffy for as long as I’ve lived in it. When we moved in I was seven and I was allowed to choose just how I wanted it decorated. As a result, the top halves of my walls are covered in pink wallpaper with stars on it, the bottom halves are a deep purple. The carpet is bright red and amazingly soft. The walls are littered with photos of me in my young teens and the shelves are filled with childhood story books, teenage romcoms, fluffy pens, computer games and various ornaments picked up on monumental birthdays.

    It has never really bothered me that it is so childish: There are so many memories attached to it I could never bear the thought of stripping it back and redecorating. Besides, I only live in it for a few months of the year. Sleeping in my old bunk bed isn’t much of a problem for me either, because I simply haven’t grown enough. It was yesterday, when I was sat at my desk reading for an essay on performance practice, that I suddenly felt really out of place. I suddenly felt like an adult sat in a child’s room. It didn’t feel like my room anymore. Me and my dad agreed that perhaps it’s time we thought about redoing it. I am admittedly tempted by the thought of a double bed and a bigger wardrobe.

    Then, yesterday evening I went on a walk down memory lane, although in this case the lane is a bridleway that runs between the part of Chelmsford I live in and the bit next door. A group of us used to do the same walk on a couple of nights, of every week without fail. We’d walk across the bridleway so we could join the rest of our friends at a park, where we would spend hours out in the cold until curfews crept up on us and we had to head back home. The walk back used to terrify me: The bridleway would be pitch black and even if we took the road around it, there were no lampposts and we had to pass a graveyard just before we reached the end. It sounds crazy now, but when me and my friend were reminiscing last night we realised that some of our happiest memories come from evenings spent walking that walk and spending time at that park.

    We chose a beautiful evening to walk the walk last night. It wasn’t even quite as scary as it used to be, because the skies were clear and the moon lit our path up remarkably bright. I still found myself gripping his arm as we passed the graveyard. When, just over a week ago, he sent me the text suggesting that once I got home, we do the walk again for old times sake, I knew I’d love it, but I could not have imagined how much. I hated it as much as I loved it. It made me miss being sixteen more than ever and it made me realise just how much everything has changed. I woke up this morning and it felt like I’d dreamt it. I’d just spent my evening sat on a swing , while the sun set, with one of my best friends, catching up on months worth of life. Then we’d walked back home in the dark, the same way we always did when we were sixteen. It was beautiful, but it made me feel so old.

    I feel like an adult. For the first time ever I’ve come home to find that, actually, I feel kind of grown up.

  • Trying and almost failing to overcome another anxious meltdown

    During the last week of the Easter break, home became just wonderful enough to ensure that leaving it again would be as difficult as ever. I’m back in Cardiff now and until recently, I was feeling very sorry for myself. For the first time this year, I’d had a anxious meltdown and it felt like my university fresher self was back to haunt me.

    Anyone who knew me in first year, knew my meltdowns were just my way of escaping life when the anxiety became too much to handle. My anxiety would hit me hard and that would quickly be followed by a wave of depression which would make even getting out of bed to grab cereal feel like too much to handle. Home sickness was mostly to blame I think, although I know there are a lot of other things I haven’t dealt with, which I imagine were choosing to raise their ugly heads. I’d say I was having a meltdown. What I’d mean was that my whole world felt like it was crumbling and all I could think to do was sit and cry until the feeling passed.

    I certainly haven’t got all of the answers yet. If I’m honest, I haven’t really wanted to go looking for them. And anyway, I’ve been far too happy this year to need an escape and I’ve felt like my meltdowns were behind me.

    Except, I came back to university last week full of butterflies and quickly realised I needed to get a move on. The more anxious I felt, the more time I wasted, the more time I wasted the more rubbish I felt, the more rubbish I felt, the more I missed home and the more I missed home, the more I lost focus. The less I could focus, the more I panicked. It sounds so silly now, but I came to a holt. With an essay to write and a tonne of revision to plough through, a holt was not where I needed to be.

    Eventually anxiety had me crumbling again and I couldn’t find a way out of it.

    Until I did.

    I finally handed in my last essay yesterday. And so, this week already looks so much brighter.

    Sometimes we need to panic and we need to mope and maybe I still need the occasional meltdown, but that’s okay right? So long as we can put ourselves back together, pick ourselves up and get moving again as soon we’re ready. My anxiety hasn’t won yet. I’m back on the move again.

  • And so the sun set on my teenage years

    When one of my friends suggested we head to the beach the day before my birthday, I was excited, but I could not have imagined how beautiful it would be. I’d had an exam in the morning, so I spent the majority of the afternoon recovering in bed with a pizza. She picked me up in the early evening. We got fish and chips and then, while the sun set we found ourselves wandering up and down the beach sharing childhood

    Image

    memories and talking about anything and everything. When I got home, after we’d been for cocktails at the loveliest of bars, I fell asleep with the biggest of smiles on my face. Midnight had passed and I wasn’t sad; I felt ready to begin life’s next chapter.

    I think that would have been wonderful enough. I would have been quite happy to have considered my birthday celebrated in style. But I went ahead a continued the celebrations all the same…

    I skyped my mum while I opened my presents. I had got more gifts through the post than I ever would have expected!

    I went out for afternoon tea with some beautiful friends from my course.

    Then I got home again to find my amazing flatmates baked me a surprise birthday cake. They turned out the lights in the flat and sang happy birthday to me and we spent the evening chilling, eating and laughing.

    It wasn’t far from perfect.

    Now I’m facing revision again, but with more enthusiasm than ever before. I feel ridiculously loved and I’m so happy. A month ago, I had no idea if I’d even get to celebrate at all. I was convinced that even if I did celebrate it, I’d be too caught up in the stress of exams to enjoy it. I was completely wrong, as per. I had an amazing day and at the risk of triggering cheese allergies… all because I have such amazing family and friends.

    This year isn’t quite over yet, but I have a feeling the next few weeks are going to speed by. Recently life feels like it’s coming together. It’s been a good year. It’s been a roller coaster ride, but this time ’round I’ve enjoyed plenty more upward slopes and exciting twists and turns. I’ve got a great set of friends here, I’m feeling more confident in myself and my degree and I’ve got an exciting summer ahead. Hey, I think I’m beginning to find my way.

    And so, I think that’s farewell for now, at least for a little while.

    Until that little while is over, keep singing in the shower wordpressers.

  • Studying at degree level is more

     

    What is being a university student really like?

    It is more than anyone will ever tell you it is.

    They tell you it is hard work, when in reality it is more difficult than you can imagine and at times so stressful giving up is more tempting than pressing a big red button that has danger written all over it.

    Therefore they tell you that as a student, you will need to be determined. Actually you need to be willing to get up after falling down for what feels like the one hundredth time in just one day.

    They tell you that you will learn a lot at university, when in reality you learn so much you feel as if your brain might explode.

    They tell you it will expand your horizons. And yes, university will be nothing you expect it to be, but everything you need it to be. Strangers quickly become friends for life and things you’d never have dared to do become the things you do on a daily basis.

    They tell you that you have to love your subject. They are right about that too.

    They tell you they’ll be the best years of your life and while you face all the challenges and trip on all the hurdles you might begin to doubt them. Except, when you sit down, look back through the photos, remember the good times and look at the person you’re becoming, you realise it’s all worth it.

    Going to university is worth it, worth all of it.

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