Bleak end of Christmas :s
In the trailing end of christmas, I realise I've had an epiphany. I want to go home. Not "so-far-south-im-practically-french" home, not london home, or the home of my family, but awesome university-N-Block-slum home. My home.
It doesn't help that my supposed essay of a lifetime, my grand evaluation of ENGLISH HIGHWAYMEN (*cue fangirling for at least five minutes flat*) isn't going well. I've spent weeks researching this, pouring through the eighteenth-century archives, traipsing round York with flatmates in tow to visit the bar/prison cell/grave of Dick Turpin, reading bore-me-to-sleep articles on the English legal and criminal justice system, and it should be awesome. But its not. So far I've written next to nothing, in spite of all my grand ideas and imaginings. In truth, I have a feeling this essay's going to be the worst one I've produced so far...
And I miss dan. Irritating/teasing/idiot/thunderbird/adorable dan. Talking on skype really can't replicate the feeling of sneaking into the kitchen for excessive amounts of tea just so I've got an excuse to stop studying and see him, or trekking back from lectures knowing he's waiting for me, or hearing him call me gorgeous when I teach him my latest dance moves amidst the cramped clutter of my bedroom <3 Somehow, he makes me feel like I'm on top of the world just by being there - it's like pride and confidence and happiness and protectiveness and concern all jumbled up into one giant tangle of GOOD. I swear if I was a glow-bug I'd be brilliant gold every second of the day thanks to him. And I miss him. Hopelessly.
But more than that I miss the freedom of university, the independence, the feeling of being my own person. York was one of the best decisions I think I've ever made, with going north feeling as familiar as if I'd gone down the road rather than halfway up the country. At uni, I don't have to sit around and play the part of responsible eldest daughter, but instead I can stay up late, not eat meals till stupidly late hours of the evening, or read till 2am if I want to. Sure I have other worries, like food (and the planning of meals - still a complete failing of mine) and money (one word - budget!fail), but I can cope because I feel so much more... I think "alive" is the only way of describing it. I'm in control and I can make my own decisions. And it's a seriously good feeling.
And although I've had a wonderful christmas, and loved every minute spent with my friends and family, I'm counting the days till I get to go back - back to my truly awesome (not that I'd ever admit that to his face) boyfriend, my wonderful wonderful course, my lecturers, my dance class, my independence, my new life. It'll be like coming home all over again, and I can't wait! :)
It doesn't help that my supposed essay of a lifetime, my grand evaluation of ENGLISH HIGHWAYMEN (*cue fangirling for at least five minutes flat*) isn't going well. I've spent weeks researching this, pouring through the eighteenth-century archives, traipsing round York with flatmates in tow to visit the bar/prison cell/grave of Dick Turpin, reading bore-me-to-sleep articles on the English legal and criminal justice system, and it should be awesome. But its not. So far I've written next to nothing, in spite of all my grand ideas and imaginings. In truth, I have a feeling this essay's going to be the worst one I've produced so far...
And I miss dan. Irritating/teasing/idiot/thunderbird/adorable dan. Talking on skype really can't replicate the feeling of sneaking into the kitchen for excessive amounts of tea just so I've got an excuse to stop studying and see him, or trekking back from lectures knowing he's waiting for me, or hearing him call me gorgeous when I teach him my latest dance moves amidst the cramped clutter of my bedroom <3 Somehow, he makes me feel like I'm on top of the world just by being there - it's like pride and confidence and happiness and protectiveness and concern all jumbled up into one giant tangle of GOOD. I swear if I was a glow-bug I'd be brilliant gold every second of the day thanks to him. And I miss him. Hopelessly.
But more than that I miss the freedom of university, the independence, the feeling of being my own person. York was one of the best decisions I think I've ever made, with going north feeling as familiar as if I'd gone down the road rather than halfway up the country. At uni, I don't have to sit around and play the part of responsible eldest daughter, but instead I can stay up late, not eat meals till stupidly late hours of the evening, or read till 2am if I want to. Sure I have other worries, like food (and the planning of meals - still a complete failing of mine) and money (one word - budget!fail), but I can cope because I feel so much more... I think "alive" is the only way of describing it. I'm in control and I can make my own decisions. And it's a seriously good feeling.
And although I've had a wonderful christmas, and loved every minute spent with my friends and family, I'm counting the days till I get to go back - back to my truly awesome (not that I'd ever admit that to his face) boyfriend, my wonderful wonderful course, my lecturers, my dance class, my independence, my new life. It'll be like coming home all over again, and I can't wait! :)