So it's been awhile since I updated my blog. This is for two reasons; I couldn't be bothered and I've been busy because I've started college. Just finished my first week, actually and so far so good. If you really want to know I'm studying Music AS, Art AS, Photography AS and English Language AS, all of which require an imperial buggerload of work. Such is life in college, or so I'm told. I've been there for a week so I can't say I'm experienced. More experienced than everyone still in school perhaps, but still, compared to upper sixth students, I'm a newborn.
College has been really interesting so far, there isn't a lesson I don't enjoy for some reason or another (except mabye Music Theory), I've met a bunch of awesome new people, been reunited with some people I haven't seen in the best part of half a decade and I get to go home before 12pm on a Monday. Awesome (I say that a lot by the way). However, mabye there's something more to college. Perhaps I'm enjoying it too much? I've been told by some of my friends in upper sixth that college is really good for about three months and then the novelty wears off. "Three months isn't too bad" I thought to myself shortly afterwards... I then realised that five years had just gone past. Really quickly. I mean really fucking quickly. I honestly does not seem that long since I was a snivelly little eleven-year-old starting secondary school, feeling all superior to those damn dirty primary school bastards. 2006 was a shit year. I may have mentioned this in a previous blog, but I don't think I can emphesize quite how biblically shite that year was for me. I don't think you, as the reader, can emphesize how little fucks you give about my average childhood. Suddenly, year eleven came from fucking nowhere along with GCSEs and the stress that constantly surrounded them.
It still feels weird having completed school and mandatory education as a whole. It's going to take me awhile to fully adjust to the semi-adult world of higher-education, bearing in mind I'm not yet a legal adult. I keep thinking back to the first few days of primary school, in September, 1999 and having no idea what to do, or how it worked. On the first day, I remember seeing my mother outside the classroom towards the end of the day, just when the class teacher, Miss Burrows (now Mrs Earl), was about to tell the class one of Aesop's Fables, I ran outside to greet my mother after six hours of uncertainty and probably tears. Now, this wasn't just outside the classroom, this was outside the building, I ran outside the building to see my mother whilst everyone else was inside, sat in a group on the floor looking out the open window to see me, embarrassed as fuck by this point, looking back in at the teacher who was just beginning to suspect that I might just have learning difficulties. So after being told to go back inside, I spent the last ten minutes or so of that day anxious to rush outside again. I feel that same uncertainty now that I'm just starting college, twelve years later.
I really do remember that fateful September afternoon twelve years ago that vividly, and yes, I know what you're thinking because it's likely that you, the reader, is older than me so you're probably thinking "Yeah I remember 1999 really vividly, dude, fuck I remember 1989!" Well, I was four years old. I was four and I remember that as if it happened two years ago. I know this is me just figuring out how age works but it kind of blows my mind how quickly the years have gone; I mean, back then I though year six kids were full-blown grown-ups, same goes for the secondary school kids I had to walk past every day on the way to school and as for college students, fuck, they drive actual cars. Now I am one. Except I don't drive an actual car. Another year before I can do that.
Time flies if you don't keep track of it. By that logic, I'll be dead soon.