Tag Archives: Student

Not a Student

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There is no doubt about it. Whichever way you look at it, I’m no longer a student.

Perhaps I stopped being a student three weeks ago when I started my job. As I’ve said previously, it’s only a summer job on a production of Treasure Island, but it feels oceans away from the student life I left behind. Being able to get up in the morning with a purpose (as cheesy as it sounds) gives your day so much more clarity. People always joke with me about how much free time I had as a student, but I had to explain how it wasn’t all that it seemed. A day wasted doing nothing for me meant feeling guilty, unproductive and down. Not enjoyable. With a job it is so much easier to appreciate the time off you have, and it’s making me appreciate my job.

The unfortunate thing is I am not required to dress up as a pirate. I have only managed to get away with one “Yarrrrrr!” to two audience members who had come in pirate costume and pirate spirit. I do, however, get to wear a pirate bandana (available to buy for £3.00 from all good pirate-themed merchandise stands) but have yet to wear it on my head for fear I’ll look like a lubber. It makes a good neck scarf though.

Perhaps I stopped being a student two weeks ago when I graduated. Graduation was a lot more ceremonial than I previously realised. There is a very expensive looking mace which must be in the room or else it is not possible for a degree to be conferred. In addition, during your ten seconds of fame, you must walk across the staging towards the chancellor with your hands in the universal gesture of prayer. The chancellor then clasps his hands around yours and it is at this moment that you go from ‘graduand’ to ‘graduate’. You have graduated.

You imagine that graduation makes you feel different. It doesn’t. I felt a little nervous when I collected my gown and hood, a little irritated when I couldn’t put it on properly, a little self-conscious walking to the ceremony, and then back to irritation again after an afternoon with the folks. Proud? Maybe. More mature? Hardly. Less student-like? Not at all.

Perhaps I stopped being a student a week ago when I met someone who is more student than I could ever be. It’s always depressing when you meet someone pretty. First, and primarily, you hope that you are constantly a silhouette against the sun for the entire duration of your meet so that your individual features can’t be made out. You wish you were them. Secondly, you wonder why someone like that is spending time with someone like you, and get the odd feeling that it’s not going to happen again. You wish you had them. Thirdly, in my case at least, your mind stops functioning in any socially useful way. You wish you weren’t you.

Many people say that when you meet someone it is important to be yourself. Unfortunately I feel that when I meet someone new I’m as far from the real me as possible. Being daunted by the person you’re meeting does not make things easier. Still, I am aware that a lot of the problems were in my head, that every human is beautiful in their own way, nobody judges a book by it’s cover, there’s plenty of fish in the sea and that pigs can fly. Well, at least that’s partly true.

This guy is a student. Everything about his life says that he is right for university. He’s not a stereotypical student in any imagining of the phrase, but he is the student that all the other students want to be. He’s the student I want to be. His life isn’t perfect I’m sure, but for anyone looking in it would not seem that way. I studied at university. I passed the course and left. But was I ever a student? I envied the student life of others I saw around me. I envied the student life that I never had. I envy the position (and the looks) of this guy who has that life. I want to be that student.

Yesterday my student card expired. I’m certainly not a student anymore.

Remember this?

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Monday 22nd November 2010, at 2:55pm… I should be working. I always should be working but instead I am writing to you… my future self. How are you doing? Right now I don’t know what to do, or what’s gonna happen in the next 6 months. I don’t know if I’ll finish Uni, or drop out. If I’ll get an honours degree or an ordinary degree. If I pass or if I fail. What’s strange is that I’m talking to someone who knows. Wanna give me a clue what I should do?

It’s a strange thing writing to yourself. At least when I write this blog I imagine that I’m writing to the world, but writing to yourself means writing to someone you know better than anyone else on the planet. Monday 22nd November last year was not the first time I’d written to myself… When I was younger I used to keep a list of people I’d sent christmas cards to the previous year (a tradition inherited from my parents). I got into the habit of writing myself a little note to accompany the list, knowing that the next year at Christmas time I would find it. It started with a “Merry Christmas!” and gradually got longer. Eventually I gave up writing these lists (I now prefer to buy a pack of cards and randomly select twelve facebook friends as recipients) and with it gave up writing to myself.

When I came across Future Me, I couldn’t resist writing to myself again. If I remember correctly, I wrote a letter to my future self in five years time as well as a letter to be received in seven months and eight days; five years is a long time to wait to see the fruits of your labour. It’s exciting to feel like you can communicate with a future version of yourself, albeit a one way conversation. What would you tell your future self? Turns out I wanted to tell the me of the future things that fell into two brackets; the compulsory “OMG, this is so cool! This is what it’s like for me now, do you remember?!” section and a more philosophical section where I reminded my future self of the values that were important to me at the time.

You remember Ben? I hope so because if everything goes according to plan, you should have just had an amazing night at the Glee concert… Say hi to future Ben for me!

Future Ben is my current flatmate. We did indeed have an amazing night at the Glee concert. In’t that clever! I think future Ben was very appreciative of his greeting from the past, I mean who wouldn’t be? But this wasn’t the most interesting bit of the letter for me… instead I found the philosophical bits quite striking:

Remember the measure of success is happiness. If you are not happy right now, to some degree, then something has gone wrong… change it. Have strength and have courage, and never stop in the pursuit of happiness. Just remember to enjoy yourself along the way… in the words of Miley Cyrus and Joe McElderry it IS The Climb.

Granted my positive reaction to this paragraph is not going to be limited by the fact that it references Joe McElderry, but what I found inspiring is that in the seven months and eight days since I sent myself the letter, I have lived my life within the guidelines that I’d felt the need to remind myself of. The way I looked at life back then was the way I lived life over the next period. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m quite a philosophical person and it is encouraging to know that what I thought worthy to tell my future self was not something of which I needed reminding. I lived life how I wanted to live it.

I found out this week that I have passed my degree. The last three years, and the last seven months, were worth it. I was seriously considering dropping out of my course at the time I wrote to myself but that wouldn’t have been the right decision, and I persevered and finished what I’d started. I also found out this week that I am no longer unemployed! I will be working for two months as Front of House for a production of Treasure Island. The position my life is at right now is not something I could have imagined in November, but I know that the decisions I’ve made that got me here are consistent with what I wanted way back then.

Maybe when I receive the next letter to myself I’ll be able to say that I’ve got the TV job I dream of. Maybe I won’t. Who knows where I will be in another seven months time; the future is totally unimaginable for me right now. But what I hope beyond anything is that I’ll be able to say once more that I have continued to live life to the values which I feel are important. If I can say that then maybe the pursuit of happiness isn’t a pursuit after all.

No regrets, just lessons learned.

Ash x

What do you do with a BA in English?

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Unfortunately for me, a BA in English would probably be more helpful than a BSc in Economics, which I may or may not have. What I do have is the time to sit and ponder my life whilst watching ‘Avenue Q’. If you haven’t seen it, Princeton is a newly graduated English student looking for his purpose. He moves in to Avenue Q hoping to find the “little flame that lights a fire under your ass”. It’s funny as hell and if you can catch them on tour, then I recommend you do.

Being at university I’m used to spending half my time in one area of the country as a student and the other half of my time being a son back ‘home’. This worked for three years, but as I wait to find out my degree classification and wonder if we all are, in fact, a little bit racist I remember that I have no place to be. I don’t have a job, I don’t have a date and until I work out how I can bust in to TV-land I could loiter pretty much anywhere on the planet. As lovely as that sounds, it’s only technically true. I have friends in the city, friends and family at ‘home’ and it comes down to a choice between them. A big fat choice. It sucks to be me.

I went to see Avenue Q with my city flatmate. He is by far my favourite person this side of the M25 and, to be honest, it would be hard to leave him. He keeps me entertained, he keeps me company and he buys me stuff. I feel it is very gracious of me not to refuse gifts, but that’s a discussion for later. Along with one of my best friends, the city offers me independence. I’ve always found going ‘home’ to the country a little bit of a struggle; public transport sucks, the shops and restaurants within a ten mile radius of my house suck, and the internet (for porn) sucks. The benefit is spending time with my other, more original, friends and family. I grew up in the country and in a perfect world I’d pack up everyone and take them with me wherever I go. Well… maybe some of them I’d put into storage once in a while; some family members can be a bit much, know what I mean?

There’s a fine, fine line between “you’re wonderful” and “goodbye”

As much as a little piece of me actually dies on the train back to the city, it has always previously been necessary to leave those great country folk of mine. It is now unnecessary, but I’m going to do it again. In the city I can stand by my window and feel all warm and cosy watching people out in the rain. This kind of schadenfreude isn’t possible in the country, and is kind of the reason behind the choice I made.

Over the next few months I’m going to need some part time work, and there are certain elements of life that this work can give me experience with. One of these elements is becoming more comfortable talking to people. I am told I come across as confident and communicate well, but inside I crumble. This kind of social anxiety is something I’ve been dealing with for a few years, and I now need the opportunity to start dealing with some of the irrational thoughts inside my head. The experience of dealing with new people everyday in a public-facing job will give me far more benefit than more familiar work available at ‘home’. I need to go outside my comfort zone in order to improve my confidence and behaviour.

So, I stay where I am and get to enjoy the delights of city theatre. The job hunt begins, and until I can find somewhere willing to fund my weekly Nando’s outing it’s a careful mix of squeezing the last out of my student loan, free-riding off my flatmate and pulling at the heartstrings of my parents. Or maybe you can give me your money? Where’s Trekkie Monster when you need him? For those of you wondering about my country-based crew, I’m yet to figure out a way to make them pocket-sized. I do, however, go ‘home’ when I can and take solace in the fact that it’s only for now. I’m fairly lucky to be wanted in two places at once, and maybe one day I’ll be in a position where I can lose the inverted commas around ‘home’.

Except for death and paying taxes, everything in life is only for now.

Me and My Guitar

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As a prospective wanderer in the creative industries, I probably shouldn’t begin with a post based on someone else’s work. Then again, I probably shouldn’t be considering doing what I’m considering doing.

I am a 21 year old unemployed ex-student who has a passion for something he didn’t study. It’s actually not that unusual for undergraduates to spend three years of their life devoted to something that by the end they really couldn’t care less about. Still, for most, it’s not an enviable position to be in. I am not most. I love it.

I don’t own a guitar, but I do know what Tom Dice was on about when he sung about his.

People always say, ‘Tom this has gone too far.’ I’m not afraid to chase my dreams, just me and my guitar.

Chasing dreams. Two years ago I didn’t have a dream. This was the first sign that warned me something was wrong. Ever since I was a kid I remember dreaming about my future… I wanted to be a waiter. I wanted to be a Formula 1 team manager. I wanted to be an investment banker. It was whilst pursuing this last career with a degree in Economics that I realised very suddenly that this was not what I wanted. I had no passion for it, and did not want to devote my life to money, be it mine or someone else’s. So after a swift manoevre into a mental position where nothing in my life was what I wanted, I discovered the emptiness that comes from not having a dream.

Over the winter I thought about what it was I wanted from life, and from a career. In January 2010 I reached a conclusion – passion over price. I would begin to prepare myself for a life in the television industry as opposed to one in finance. This kind of preparation is difficult when you are locked in to a degree relating to a life you might have had. Still, I knew that it was going to be tough getting into the TV circles, and I desperately needed experience. I didn’t get any.

I spent eighteen months not quitting my degree. On the plus side I took my final exam last Wednesday. My degree, the remnants of my past dreams and the turmoil that went with it, is all in the past. I am now ready to chase my dream. No contacts. No experience. Just me and my guitar. My metaphorical guitar.

Although I said at the start of this post that I love the position I’m in (which is true) I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have concerns. One of these concerns is the opportunities available for potential writers, producers, editors and such like to show the world what they are capable of. The TV industry is about who you know and what you’ve done, and it seems to be very difficult even for a media graduate to obtain sufficient experience without a roll of the dice. So what if we rolled our own dice?

I tend to have some far out, ambitious ideas sometimes, and this may be one of them. But it may not. I know that there are people like me wanting to prove themselves in TV and Film and not being able to. What if we proved ourselves together? What if we created something from scratch, just us, the people with potential. We can either fight each other for the ‘placements’ available or build something that at the very worst will be a personal achievement in our own history books. Anything is possible with the right people, we’ve just got to find each other.

I’m sure that I’ll find my way, ‘cause I’m not afraid to try.

No Tom. Neither am I.