Oh my god. What a life.

Lets put our sympathetic and melodramatic hats on for the minute because a) its the first day of university and b) shit just got serious.

You know how when people asked you "what do you want to be when you grow up?" you were expected to look all starry eyed and wondrous and be like "ahh well I want to be a fire fighter and a veterinarian like my barbie is and also a ballerina", at university its like "please students refer to the solidifying block of concrete around your ankles affixing you to your chosen career forever and ever so help you God if you change your mind, and while were on the topic, is journalism really for you?"

:|

Well it was until it encompassed your limbs and demanded a permanent decision from you, today.

Not to mention the first weekly reading assigned to your new, dangerous subject casually mentions the fatalities and casualties involving journalists for the years 2003 & 5 and also incorporates an anecdotal account from a journalist who LOST HER EYE on the job.

mmmhmmm first day jitters are all part of the experience!

Last year, when the popular threat was merely perpetuated shame and humiliation as a result of your efforts in the VCE, my resolution was to "take it one day at a time."

Apt, I feel, to a situation lacking in the current immobilising sinking ship that is the onset of unit guides and readings and assessments.

Thus, in order to move from my own personal tertiary titanic and onto the wild party boat currently situated in uncharted waters heading for Ibiza that everybody else seems to be aboard, I am going to play the hand I've been dealt.

Get over that I am by myself in the middle of nowhere with no friends.

Am currently killing time in the library like a total loser.

Do not own any prescribed texts.

And am broke.

Hopefully the key to eventual success is in the guise of a poker face and strategic game playing.

Steaks are raised.

First thing to go is your inhibitions,

next thing to go is your clothes.

Your notion of sound.

Your sense of decorum.

Your better judgement, any pessimistic or realistic thought processes.

Your self righteousness.

Your sense of loneliness.

Get thrilled.

r.i.p self. haha

At the risk of sounding like a vain, vapid, superficial creature who is god willing to be subject to gender related inferiority and treated like a petty and useless girl whose single good use is to be sat on the knee of a dominant male while my arms and mouth are puppeteered by him, let me say this...

Maybe, maybe the reason men get paid more than women, and sometimes valued higher than their female counter parts in the workplace is because they do a better job? In the real world women do tend to rely on men.

Not saying women can't be independent, sisters be doing it for themselves everywhere, however, isn't it true that you ladies find it flattering and romantic when your date pays for your movie/lunch/coffee? Or otherwise scandalous if you are obliged to spilt the bill?

Do you not find mowing the lawn/DIY shelving/checking the oil in your car dirty and laborious?

And don't you think that, if we really were equal, bloke-y drinks and girly drinks would be priced the same at bars? I mean, you can get a pot for like $5, but good luck finding a vodka raspberry for less than $9.

I'm not advocating a mass surrender of female independence or rights, but I mean, if your going to be a self righteous bitch feminist all the goddam time do not allow that guy to buy you a drink, lest it be beer.