This year was the first year I returned to University and it felt like home. More importantly I didn’t feel afraid. When I was a naive fresher the journey up the motorway oozed expectant possibilities, but by second year I had become jaded, by third year slightly cynical, yet this year, this fourth year I was pumped, because the end was in sight.
When I first started this blog almost 2 years ago and confronted the challenge to write something every day, I was candid, raw, experimental and most importantly, when living in a cyber era where privacy is a euphemism for extraneous publicity, I was anonymous. I was simply the Death of the Writer and I wrote for my own pleasure and in that time garnered some kind of an audience. My anonymity provided me with a cloak that allowed me to write about experiences, thoughts, ideas and issues without implicating anyone else, or myself. Yet this blog also opened up my own creativity. It became the scrap book of lyrics and poems that I would later perform, film and publicly own as mine. It became the platform for me to begin writing professionally as a freelance journalist, once more also publicly. It was used to raise awareness for my first ever theatrical production which we then performed off-broadway and which resulted in me getting twitter (??). And it now has a declaration under the banner image with my working name and a note not to steal my work. This is my blog, and I am its writer – and I also have one final year left of university to pass without dying.
A fan of hyperbole you say. Ironically not. Considering that during my exams last year I ended up passing out several times which disrupted my exam period and showed me my body was indeed frail, fragile and mortal, getting through this year, and more importantly coming out the other side if not whole, with as few dents in my body, and as few holes stealthily tacked up with plaster in my brain as possible, will be as much an achievement as achieving my long-awaited bachelors degree. So perhaps I won’t die in the attempt of surviving a BA, but let’s hope I don’t faint, fall ill or undergo any other kind of mishap.
This so far, is the longest introduction to a blog I have done, but bear with me, a lot has occurred since I removed my fingers from the keyboard of this so called scrap book.
Once more I throw down the gauntlet to academia and take up the challenge to write something, every day, from now until I leave these ivory towers, documenting my final year of University and all that it may entail.
But remember that note I left about anonymity. Well, perhaps this time round I won’t be able to be as candid. I’ll try and be honest, but sometimes obfuscating a situation or being dissembling can lead to more trouble – more than one person might think you’re writing about them!
So this will be an interesting attempt, because I will be documenting my year, whilst being consciously aware of documenting my year, whilst also trying not to care that people who know me away from the ether might be reading this – oh dear, the mind games have begun.
Well, here’s to scrap books and random thoughts and transformation and maturity, and expressions and fears and life. No doubt my thoughts and feelings will change as each day goes by and even after this blog has ended. I’m writing for myself and maybe for anyone out there who makes a connection, but this is a place of expression, of note taking, of learning.
And as I said all those years ago, maybe amongst the pile of shit you’ll find a spec of gold – welcome to this blog and to this new challenge to Pass Finals (and not die – or faint – in the attempt).
Walk with me this way —->