She hasn’t got letters after her name just yet, but she’s so close she can taste them! After a year of barely any work at all in Germany, editor Elena Cresci is back in Swansea for her final year. Will she drown in her books? Drink her own bodyweight in Monster the week before her dissertation is due? Or will she miraculously cope with it all? Find out in the fortnightly Final Year Blues…
Do you ever find yourself looking at old tagged photos on Facebook and wondering where the time went? Exam time means that procrastination is at an all time high, so I’ve certainly been guilty of some Facebook-aided reminiscing. Found this gem from when I was a Fresher, in Oceana’s final days as Time and Envy, before Play became Odyssey and when Langland, Caswell and Oxwich were the new buildings on the block. I had a lot more hair than I do now, far less work to do and not a clue what was around the corner. So I did what almost every Fresher does; drink myself silly, get involved in as much fancy dress as possible and worry more about the dramas in halls than about my actual University work.
Any freshers reading this will probably recognise elements of their lives right now, while I’m sat here wondering how the past three years went by so quickly. Those of you in the same boat… welcome to final year. Our halcyon fresher days are long gone. Have you picked a comfortable spot in the library? I have, and I’m likely to be there for quite some time, peering over my mountain of books and helplessly scouring Wikipedia for facts, leaving only to grab something vaguely resembling sustenance. Though in reality a bag of crisps from the vending machine and a hot chocolate from Costa does not a real dinner make.
I realised my soul belonged to the library on New Year’s Eve. One minute, I was dancing to the thumping beat of some standard chart topping floor filler, and somehow, in the change from Lady Gaga to Britney, a new point for my dissertation popped into my head. This was followed by mild panic as I remembered I probably should have started writing that by now. Then the horror set in. I’m in my final year. I’m thinking about the D word in a club on New Year’s Eve. Holy crap, am I old?!
Somehow it feels like just yesterday I arrived on floor 5 of Preseli just in time for Freshers’ Fortnight, and it doesn’t seem like my second year was a whole two years ago. As for my year abroad in Germany; the shift from working a mere 12 hours a week as a language assistant to the amount I do now between my actual job, my degree and any other things I have going on has been a little bit crazy.
Truth be told, despite the workload, despite my final year blues… my last year here at Swansea hasn’t been too bad so far. After all, you know what they say; if you work hard, you party hard, and there’s no party like a dissertation hand-in party!