Sydney Life

This is my last semester of undergraduate coursework. I thought this wouldn't affect anything but boy was I wrong. I feel like a kid trying to sit through maths class before icecream after school. I haven't been able to get in to the swing of the semester and I can tell you why as an example of obstacles you might encounter.

It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that a harried University student must be in want of a decent cup of coffee. The idea that caffeine not only improves the university experience but is integral to it is undeniable. You need to look no further than the queues that snake down Manning Road or outside Footbridge for some concrete evidence. But coffee is more than just the cornerstone of the student experience; it is a metaphor for it. So, permit me to wax poetical about the metaphoricity of coffee (and yes, I am an English major…). If you think about it, it is easy to see how life at Sydney Uni can be summed up by appealing to the figure of the humble cup of coffee. Today, students are super busy. They are running about trying to fulfil loads of commitments such as holding down a part time job, trying to get their uni assignments in while attempting to have something resembling a social life. So, it is easy for the ‘University Experience’ to be put on the backburner. University can easily become something you ‘do’ as opposed to something that you absorb so that it becomes a part of you. Thinking about University life in these terms, you have to ask yourself, do you sip it slowly to make it last? Or is education consumable, disposable or expendable? Does it leave you with an acrid taste in your mouth? Or is it sweet and satisfying?

As morbid as the title sounds, my experiences show it.is.actually.true. But then, if you truly care about how well you're doing, you wouldn't let such a little setback put your moral and determination down, but then the question is - what have you done to allow this to happen?

Well you see, I have an excuse...

Comprising the most hours of all my subjects (6 hours a week), adjectives such as “serious”, “hefty”, or “very very time-consuming” may spring to mind. Orchestral Studies teaches one extremely valuable skills that will be useful throughout one's musical career. Social, business, economic, and time-management skills all stand to be gained by the penultimate eight semesters of Orchestral Studies required of a Conservatorium student.*

* Disclaimer: this blog isn't anywhere near as serious as the opening paragraph makes it sound...

My first semester at Uni is done. And, somewhat surprisingly, I am still alive, with a full set of limbs and vital organs still intact. Even more surprisingly, I’m going back for another one in August. The time seems ripe for a good old heart-to-heart, blogger to blogee. And so, despite running the risk of being typecast as some kind of “philosophical list-maker”, I felt it would be appropriate to pass on some of my hard-earned first year wisdom.

One of the great things about growing up, at least in my understanding, is that it leads to moderation. Who can forget those heady days of believing in the tooth fairy, Santa Claus, and the Easter Bunny (or maybe some less denominational non-existent sprite)? It is, perhaps the mark of leaving childhood, I believe, that you decide to get rid of these ideas. Sure, Christmas loses some of the magic, maybe loosing a tooth doesn’t become such a big deal anymore (or maybe it becomes an incredibly expensive deal), but it’s a mark of maturity.

Exchanging Manning for the dusty corridors of Fisher, I've sublimated all urges into some long overdue research for an Art History essay. My old habit of leaving things to the last minute seems to have followed through from high school, but this time round, I'm not so sure I can pull it off like in the good ol' days.

I make lists. Everyday. To do… To call… To finish. It gives me a sense of accomplishment before I even set about doing anything…Bad idea. I am constantly in a state of denial accomplishing all the ‘post letter’ type tasks while happily ignoring more crucial ‘finish essay’ reminders until the due date is staring me right in the face. Sound like you?

It’s a motley bunch that does Government 2225. For those of you who are uninitiated, that’s International Security in the 21st century. Certainly one of my favourite subjects, not only for the subject matter but also the rip-roaring debates happening in tutorials.

In the dark and dense recesses of my memory, recollections of a darker time bubble below my consciousness. An image surfaces - a younger me, munching on peanut butter toast and drinking tea, staring vacantly at an enormous modern history textbook on the desk in front of me. It’s hard to tell from my physical appearance, but you can tell that I was thinking ‘Gee, I can’t wait for uni. It’ll be so different - way better than school. I’ll be doing awesome subjects, I'll play my violin all the time, and I’ll be surrounded by jazz guys and guitar boys who will be, like, sooo much better looking than high school guys.”

Zooming out of my subconscious, you'll find that I'm still eating peanut butter toast and drinking copious amounts of tea. But if you look closely at my expression, you might notice that my eyes betray the weariness that comes with the burden of wisdom, so far removed from the happy-go-lucky HSC student of the past... OK, so I'm full of rubbish. But as it's my job to inform and entertain, I've collected some of the most common misconceptions about 'Con life'... If I've missed any good ones, let me know!

If you had told me in second year that there would be a time in my university life that I would make it through four weeks of semester having only visited Manning Bar twice, I would have laughed in the face of your naivety. Manning was my second home, for lazy lunches in the sunshine, afternoons that drift into evenings on the balcony, or concerts & club events that rock the stage. I knew the tech guys, the bar manager, the Access office crew, and the guy who booked the gigs. You could go alone and know there’d be someone there to talk to. We’d catch up and joke about our growing qualification… a Masters in Manning.

Before I properly start this blog, I should probably put a disclaimer here. THIS BLOG HAS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH THE SIZE OF MY BUTT. Nor is it a lengthy thesis deploring the conflicting messages young girls receive from mass media. It’s not about Jordan’s surgically enhanced chest, or ‘Super-Sized’ meals from McDonalds, or the physical differences between violins and violas. It’s about going to an itsy bitsy, teeny weeny (but not yellow or polka-dotted) University.

In two words, it’s fantastic! Now let me tell you why…

Le français, they say that you can seduce any girl with a cleverly crafted smattering of this language of love. I have to admit, that's one reason why I'm studying it. But what's the use of studying Old English if there aren't any medieval women to whom I can profess 'thou hath ankles most shapely and pale'?! No, Old English isn't the best language to pick up with on campus. But as a fresher, I might as well be speaking it when I try to navigate the sandstone mazes of Sydney Uni.

Yes, the library is scary. There are actually several libraries within Sydney Uni, and they could probably take over a blog of their own* so I’ve decided to just tackle Fisher for now.

Fisher is the main library at Sydney Uni, and is located near the Quad and front lawns. Things you need to know....

If I had a recurring nightmare, it would probably start kind of like this:
The scene: a tutorial room at the Conservatorium of Music. Twenty first years sit in a circle nervously looking at the ground.

“Alright,” the solfege teacher would say, “Who can sing us a major third above B. How about… Liisa. Liisa, would you please sing it for us?”

Unfortunately for me, that recurring nightmare does not exist merely in the realms of my imagination – rather, it exists as a fifty minute solfege tutorial every Monday morning. And despite the fact that my solfege tutor looks
something like this, singing in front of twenty people is still mighty scary.

Now that I find myself an aging third year student at the University of Sydney (represses panic attack…my god where did the time go?!!??!) my first week of uni seems a bit like ancient history. Though there are a few memories that remain particularly vivid – the masses of people, the mind numbing boredom of sitting through a second year econometrics tutorial because I was too afraid to announce that I was in the wrong place and more than anything, the overwhelming sense of culture shock. While that was a few years ago now, my first week back at uni after 7 months away on exchange and traveling has been culture shock all over again – to the extent that I feel so much empathy with the poor map-carrying first years that I’ve actually been giving the right directions when they ask.

If you’re reading this, you need to get a life.

JUST KIDDING.

Making friends at uni is harder than at high school, because there are so many people bustling around doing their own little thing. Then again, the fact that there is a bar on campus can, on occasion, lubricate the situation.

Talk to someone. That’s the best solution. Let’s face it guys, uni can be a tough time. It’s not always going to be easy. Sometimes things will get the better of you – whether it’s paid work, academic work, friends, family, or just not being able to do what you want at times. Unless you have an abnormally sunny disposition, almost all of us go through these kinds of moments, but we don’t have to dwell on them all by ourselves. Problems can be fixed, and there are people to help. Welcome to the world of university counsellors.

Get to know Newtown when you come to Sydney Uni. I’ve been living in and around Newtown for a few years now — here are some of the things which make it feel like home.

It’s over. Or if it’s not, it’ll be over soon. For me, it’s over. That’s right comrades, we’ve climbed the hurdle. You’ve made it through the HSC, and I’ve made it through my first year of uni. It’s been one helluva ride. When I look back on what I wrote when I finished first semester, The Prodigal Returns, I don’t think there is much more advice I can give you. But maybe I can give you a few pointers or thoughts you can mull over or consider when you start uni.

During the school holidays, my cousin who is currently in Year 9 decided to tag along to uni with me. I thought it would be a very good indicator of a first time uni experience, so here are the things that have become second nature to me, and I would otherwise forget to inform you about:

First year is over!

I know, I know, Keren, Lauren and Cath have dibs on “aaaaahgrhagrhagrhg/%^&@($* uni is over!” but I am still quite shocked at how quickly that went by. So I’m making a little comparison of what I’m doing now, and what I was doing this time last year...

They say if you haven't started studying for exams by the time the Quadrangle’s Jacaranda bursts into its eerily stunning purple-blue flower, then, to put it bluntly, you're screwed. As I write this entry I can see a Jacaranda, one of many that dot the campus, from my college window, simultaneously luring in its beauty and repulsive in the guilt it evokes: for I, in true collegiate fashion, have not started studying for my exams - a situation compounded by the very real possibility of me failing my first unit of study... ever!

What do you do when a Nobel Peace Prize winner reminds you how messed up the world is?

Gentle readers, I understand you have been upset by my absence. Indeed, it has been some time since I have written to you. But lo, there is a reason. For I have suffered from the most ravenous of plagues. It is true – my normally cast-iron constitution has let me down, and I have been beset and ravaged by a host of diseases, and disgustingly enormous nosebleeds. Worst of all, I was bereft of any parental help – a babe alone in the wilderness, as the cruel world closed upon me. Let me set the scene…

Every night before I go to sleep I make a list of stuff that I have to do for the next day. Now, I’ve never been one for lists before this year (they are admittedly a bit anal), but I’m finding more and more that not only do they help me get my proverbial sh*t together, I actually need them. I only realised how bad this dependency was when I lost the one I made for today… still in my towel, I was already late for my all-day design tutorial and I was on the verge of a serious phone-chucking, Melibu-dumping and dare I say architectural model-crushing meltdown; all because I couldn’t find my ‘to do’ list. I was saved by my diary, thank god, and was sitting in my studio within ten minutes (aaah the joys of living on-campus). So while I got to my studio relatively on-time, with my design concept model still intact, it did get me thinking: people our age really do have a lot on our plates. And it’s not always how much we have to do but how we do it that is the deciding factor in how things turn out…

I think the one month break I had was the perfect length: I was able to go away for a bit with my family without feeling like I had missed out on too much in Sydney; there was enough time to cool off and forget about exams before results came out; and also to watch two seasons of Scrubs - enough to be (almost) sick of it.

Right now, I am sitting at my computer, staring blankly at the screen. Waiting for inspiration. The first chapter of my thesis is due on Friday, and at the moment, it resembles a skeleton. The bones (the ideas, if you’ll indulge my metaphor) are there, but the meat (the actual work) is AWOL.

There’s a lady that catches my bus everyday and she’s always late. It’s become a community bus joke: every morning, the bus pulls up and there she is hurriedly running towards it again. Everyone on the bus is so used to it, that the driver and passengers just grin to themselves. Interestingly, she is always running late on time. She never misses the bus!

Late Lady is an unexplained phenomenon in our social world. How she manages to make it on time, late every morning, never ceases to amaze me. She could teach CityRail a few lessons…

Are you a Late Lady or a Temporally-Generous Gent? Here are some things you need to know if you’re going to be late @ uni:

I signed my first contract this week: I put my name on a lease. You’d think as a law student, I would actually be able to read and understand a contract. Haha, don’t be silly! Thankfully, the SRC was there to help…

You know when you have 38 new messages on your voicemail, a temperature of 39º C, and at least 40 “things to do” penned in your diary that things aren’t going exactly the way they should.

Yes, it’s that time of the year when first year architecture students crack. I thought it’d never come, and by the end of last week I was convinced I had survived it. Now, having spent a day in bed with A History of Western Architecture (I must be sick), going through more cups of Earl Grey than the poor Earl himself, I am willing to admit I’ve snapped – in a big way.

Now I know there’s nothing triter than hearing about other people’s sicknesses, but there’s a moral to this invalid’s story, so read on…

We've all just got to go out there and give 110%!!

The first few weeks of uni seemed like a breeze. A few assignments, easy lecture concepts and exams were months away. Well, now that the mid-semester break is over skipping through fields of flowers time is over.
It's not as scary as it sounds but things have definitely been knocked up a notch.

This is going to be one of those kvetching (Yiddish for whining but sounds much cooler) blogs where I am going to write about how unfair life is (all things being relative – I really do appreciate the fact that I don’t live in poverty in Africa where I would either be foraging for food or have AIDS, or both.) It is about my uni lifestyle….which is kind of non existent due to the full time practical component of the physio course.

“So, it’s my third week, and my lecturer hasn’t turned up sober once!” – Not true, readers, but I couldn’t resist the temptation. I can, however, stress that lectures can be tough, and for the uninitiated (myself obviously) they take time to get used to. Welcome to the world that is Wallace Theatre.

I've just returned home from a really bad date. That's the second date to add to my list of "Worst Dates Ever"...

Does anybody remeber people saying that uni is really really different from school?

They were right.

If anyone tries telling you different stop being their friend 'cause they're LIARS. There may be a few similarities, like people from school go to uni or the fact that you learn stuff, but it ends there.

But these aren't bad differences it just takes time to get used to them.

As you stand under the Clocktower at Sydney Uni, you are privy to a wonderful view. Ahead of you is the city of Sydney - you can even see Centrepoint. Behind you is the magnificent Quadrangle. And to your right is one of the ugliest, but most useful, buildings on campus.

Welcome to Fisher Library.

When I got to Uni, I got scared of everything and everyone in class as I didn’t know what the protocol was with talking to lecturers and tutors and the like. Well, I'll give you the 4-1-1!

Laurens blog on her daily adventures has inspired me to copy her and write what I do all day. Just though that you might like another perspective, so here it goes….

Here are some of the tricks of the trade for getting to uni itself during term time. Or at least what I do

At Uni we have a big team of well-trained, tough looking security guards in case you get yourself into trouble (or park your car in the wrong place). Here is the 4-1-1 on the men and women who aim to secure!