Pish with being cool and etc. I’m going to take a giant leap and be honest: It’s weird being a fifth year student.
The buildings are all the same but now, the people in them are…different.
I’m feeling like I did in first year– like I have to act upbeat and happy and interesting around the strangers I meet on campus/in class in order to get to know them—it gets exhausting.
Sometimes I feel like being boring or quiet… or just unafraid of saying something wrong/inaccurate/stupid (curse you u of t for your supply of intellectual undergrads).
[WARNING: – This could be some kind of left over melancholy from my sister getting married, and having to face up to the fact that life changes, people move on, and things just don’t stay the same.]
But then there are the things that do stay the same.
I was in the mood for tradition and stability, so I did the whole “tea” thing at 91 79 St. George Street. It’s a 35-year-old University College tradition (but not just for UC students), and really, it involves a help-yourself spread of tea and cookies. It happens between 2:30 and 3:30, but the cookies tend to disappear quickly.
You know, I never really liked tea, but last year this dude from my “Post Colonial and Transnational Literatures in English” class told me it was free, and then I was on the thing like white on rice, because I’m shameless and cheap (which is probably kind of clear by now.) Now, I enjoy tea—more than the cookies, actually.
It’s funny what repetition can do.
Anyways, last year the whole thing was pretty cool because it was there that I met his entire circle of friends, and they were, frankly, the kind of people you really want to meet when you’re an arts student at university: articulate, intelligent, witty and just down right interesting.
Now, as of last week, the wooden floors are still shiny, the watercolor paintings are still random, the cookies still in existence and the tea is still toasty.
But there’s something vaguely ghostly about being in a place that’s empty of the people who used to go there. Now that those people are working, or in grad school, or in class…it just became really clear to me then that last year is over and done with.
It didn’t help my depression.
It sort of made it worse.
But then, out of nowhere, was a person I had met once and vaguely knew.
Listen, I have a problem, and maybe you can help me with it…if we know that a triangle and a square share the same surface area, how can we possibly find the dimensions of the square in question…?”
People gathered around.
“ I took first year calc! I can help you with this!”
“Who has paper?”
“ I think I can get this! Who has a lap top?”
As I sat down beside him in a newly formed circle filled with eager undergrads, I realized that his question was a hard one, and that he was probably somewhat screwed…. but at the same time, suddenly I felt my first little bit of optimism all day.