I enrolled for classes Tuesday. That's kind of freaky, my bitches. I've been pushing toward this moment for well on two years now and here I am, actually attending university in Wales and studying Welsh. It's one of those weird saying-things-over-and-over-until-it's-true things, I guess -- like in seventh grade when I told Allison Dibble every day that she wanted me, then, suddenly she had a crush on me.
By the way, I am the greatest writer of all time, yo.
Thousands of other people are also starting university this week, so I'm not exactly special, but it feels weird to be among them. And perhaps I should take comfort that I have already had a classic Chris Cope moment.
For those of you just showing up at the party, I have a natural averseness to being prepared. It's not that I'm necessarily lazy or dense or disorganised; I want to be prepared for things. I'm just usually not. Sometimes this facet of my personality results in wacky beer-drinking high jinks, but most of the time it results in my going into a profanity-laden panic.
In the process of getting everything together for enrolment, I discovered that as a student under the umbrella of Humanities, "BA students take additional subjects in the first year ."
This means that I am expected to take several classes that have nothing to do with my degree, much like liberal arts courses in U.S. universities. One of the reasons I wanted to attend university here is that I hate liberal arts courses -- their tediousness is partially to blame for my previous academic failures*. I do poorly when forced to do things I don't want to do.
But let's ignore that and focus on the Chris Copeness of the situation, in that I managed to overlook this fact until the day before enrolment. I am genius. The end result of this is that in addition to Welsh, this year I will likely be studying crazy-unpronounceable-and-not-really-useful-where-I'm-from-Castilian Spanish (because I have taken several semesters of beginner Spanish over the years).
The system of doing things here is different than in U.S. universities. A major part of the Yanqui higher education experience involves building your class schedule each semester. For those not familiar with it, it's a bit like playing Tetris -- where the coloured blocks are classes and the goal is to not fuck up your future.
All of that fun is eliminated in the British system:
ME: "Hello, I'm a Welsh degree student."
UNIVERSITY: "Yes, you are. Show up for class at 9 a.m. on Monday."
I get no say in the matter. I sort of like it better this way. The only drawback is the fact that, since I have no say in how my schedule turns out, the university saw no reason to tell me about it until the week before. True, I don't have anything else to do with my life other than go to university, but I don't appreciate their assumption of that fact.
On Monday night, a Welshy friend and I were wondering what people do with philosophy degrees. That's a pretty cheeky fucking question coming from a woman with a degree in art and a dude working toward a degree in Welsh, but we had been drinking. Anyway, I found out today that one of the people best suited to answer such a question is blogging again.
I broke down and bought a Jack Johnson album Sunday night. Again, I had been drinking, but it's no excuse. My music cred is shot.
On my way to the pub Monday, a group of 20 people dressed as pirates got onto the bus and started singing pirate shanties.
I apologise for this blog post's rough-draft feel. It will be a while until I settle into things, I think, so me write like dummy.
*Admittedly, they probably only take about 10-20 percent of the blame.