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About Last Night 
23rd-Sep-2003 03:40 pm
Reborn - Yamamoto CHIBITA
This was written last night. After the first Pub Crawl of the evening.

As I write this, the hours are drawing to a close on what was my first proper day at university. *wry smile* I began the day’s official business by starting off in the wrong direction to collect my timetable, but ran into other students who were, thankfully, more enlightened than I was. I shall now make the first pointless observation of this post by stating autumn is almost upon London, and the leaves are falling into drifts that the wind swirls in circles. Just the way I read it happening in books. There is so much that is still amazing about London to me. The way breath mists in the air, the scent of the air being so fresh - it’s all still new to me.

We had our first Law talk in the Chemistry Auditorium. With a massive periodic table up on the wall. And our first speaker said, “If you’re seeking invisibility in a large lecture theatre, the best place is the front.” Unfortunately, the mere mention of that condition made me wonder why, our sub-dean’s first name being Rodney, his last name couldn’t be Skinner.

Also we learnt that our lectures for tomorrow, Introduction to Law, and our introduction to IT (or was it the Library? Not that it matters, as you soon will discover) were cancelled, because the University staff were going on strike. They were on strike today, and were giving out leaflets in front of the school. They earn £2,134, and believe that they should earn £4,000. The strike’s on for today and tomorrow, which is when most of the students will be enrolling in school. The Library’s closed. Guess it’s Strike Logic to hit where it hurts to the most, so that everyone will know how vital you are.

And the first day of Freshers’ Fortnight, for the lawyers, began today.

Little feels better than a hot bath after a cold night out. Managed, to my relief, to hitch a ride home on a cab with a Hall-mate and Hall-mate’s friend. Which is a relief when it’s 9pm in London, and you’re too many winding streets from where you’re supposed to be. Tonight was Pub Crawl night, and a girl whose name I cannot remember told me not to take this night as representative of Pub Crawl nights. There were some fifty of us Law students wandering Tottenham Court Road and its alleys once the sun set. I’ve tried Guinness, Carling, and Bailey’s Irish Cream, though only a mouthful of each, and from glasses that were not my own. (And no, they weren’t discarded – You don’t discard pints that cost £2.50 each – at least, I wouldn’t. You could buy broadband Internet time with that. . .) I have discovered that Guinness is exceedingly bitter, and was informed that in this particular beer’s case, the alcohol sinks to the bottom. I’ve discovered that shots exist in jelly form, and with 15% alcohol. I’ve discovered that it’s an excellent idea to wear your worst clothes to pub crawls of this scale, because by the time they’re through, your clothes might as well be smoke for the way they smell. Also, Carling tastes like Jolly Shandy, only with less bite, and it’s rather bland. After the 20th or so new person you’ve met in the I’ve-Lost-Count-By-Now Pub, trying to remember names is like trying to keep awake during lectures at university. Rather difficult, but some do it with ease. And I must tell you about THE FUNNEL. It’s a funnel attached to a long, black tubing, which is used to pour, one pint at a time, alcohol, down the throats of freshers who want to take up the challenge. By the time it was nine, one of the students had already done that thrice. I think he was sick on the second time, but I don’t believe it stopped him. Much wild cheering accompanies the accomplished feat. Much alcohol also finds its way to the floorboards.

And I think what has made any experience valuable/bearable to me is that somewhere within all this is something I can use. I walk home from a night where I can’t remember anybody’s name, through the cold, my clothes might as well/could be smoke for their scent, with the beginnings of a headache, and I think – this will make fic someday. Somewhere in any experience, no matter how unendurable, is something that can be used. So when I write of firestarters that carry the scent of smoke, or of the way drunken undergraduates try to open tuna cans with fire extinguishers at 1.10am in the morning, of how telling a man who won’t move out of your way to do something really rather impossible is never a good idea when he owns the pub you’re sitting in, or even of hobbits and pints in Bree – there’s something real that I can put into the words I’m writing. I think these thoughts came from reading Neil Gaiman’s The Wake, yesterday, sitting down in Waterstones’ on a step-stool. In it, Gaiman had Shakespeare talk to Dream about his son’s death. Shakespeare said, he grieved, but inside, he was rejoicing. Because now he had experienced real loss, real tragedy, and now he could go and write about it. I thought it was a lovely idea, and you can read it to say that there is something redeeming in even the worst experience of your life. Well, provided you survive it, of course.

I shall now use lyrics from a – yes, cringe – pop song, and I shall say that every step I take brings me one step closer to you, and every day that passes takes me closer to home. And sometimes thinking of the many steps that lie between here and you makes the tears threaten, so I think of something else instead. But it will not be long. And even as I write, it is one day less.

After which my neighbor proceeded to play extremely loud rap music from 11.30pm to 1.10am, and I remember because I was awake all that time. I did go over to tell him to turn it down at about 12.30pm, and he did - a little. Earlier I'd learnt that at 1.10am the night before, several drunken students on my floor had been wandering about trying to open a can of tuna with a fire extinguisher. And today I learnt that music is not the only thing on my floor that keeps people awake at night - a hall-mate on the same floor has been woken by the couple next door to him. Speculations are all correct.

All in all there is still more good than anything else. ^_^ Definitely. And at the moment, I have Internet access, and Livejournal, and that is worth a great deal of happiness. ^_^

*hugs all of you* You've been absolutely wonderful. There is nothing like a Livejournal-induced high, and I thank all of you for being a source of happiness in these times. ^_^
23rd-Sep-2003 08:35 am (UTC)
ah, darlin'. Try to enjoy it...this is what you'll look back on! I never had the university experience so I shall live vicarously through you!
23rd-Sep-2003 08:44 am (UTC)
Thank you *hugs* I shall write!

I always do think we all live vicariously through what we read. I do through your entries, too. ^_^ I look forward to reading your descriptions of your days, your children, and your life. ^_^
23rd-Sep-2003 08:46 am (UTC)
Boring as it is, rofl!

I'm off to buy a new Dave Matthews album now...HEE!
23rd-Sep-2003 04:46 pm (UTC)
Pub crawl? o__O ehh.
24th-Sep-2003 06:32 am (UTC)
It's like doing PE, except it makes your clothes smell far worse. ><

That is, I get as much joy out of it as I do out of PE lessons. ><

It's one of those things you try once and never want to do again.
24th-Sep-2003 04:06 pm (UTC)
*comforts* o__O
23rd-Sep-2003 08:34 pm (UTC)
pub crawl = bash?

for some strange reason, people in uni like to go for these things... alcohol, lots of smoke, loud music, shuffling your feet in some pathetic excuse for dancing... maybe I'm just old, but frankly, if I wanted to get drunk, I could just buy myself a pint and sit at home drinking myself silly. I rather like my lungs and eardrums intact, thank you.
One thing interesting is that it's so dark you can't really see all that smoke but when the strobe lights come on, you can actually see that the air is grey - dark grey. Like very dirty dishwater. Yuck. And strobe lights are also interesting because it seems to freeze ppl into place - watching your friends dance is like watching a series of snapshots.

your hall sounds... interesting ^^ fire extinguisher to open a can? the idiots - havent they heard of those fireman axes?
24th-Sep-2003 06:35 am (UTC)
True Pub Crawling. You go into one smoke-filled, alcohol-ridden, cacaphonous enclave, spend fifteen minutes there crammed up with people you have to shout at to be heard, and then you go to another pub and do the same thing again. And again.

And you're not old, Professor. *hugs* You're not old to me.

Heh, our pubs don't even have strobe lights. They really are the old-fashioned English pubs. Golden light, and benches outside. Perfectly normal.

Fireman axes, eh? In their drunken state, they'd probably take off their own fingers.

Professor, England needs your Snark.
23rd-Sep-2003 11:04 pm (UTC)
just had bio test. is so going to screw up.


*feels totally demoralized and terrible*

*is shocked you went pubbing*

you just don't seem like the kind. tho i think i was telling somebody once that you would probably be bouncing around on the dance floor, not dancing.

*grins at you and opens arms, taking you into a nice warm embrace*

hrmm yeah we have alot of parties here too. which i never go for anyway. is proud to announce that i've never stepped foot into a club all my life.

woohah. =)
24th-Sep-2003 06:38 am (UTC)
*comforts* *hugs* Ouch! Evil Bio Test! No Biscuit!

*throws test tubes at the test* Take that, you Maker of Student Misery!

*wry smile* The Pub Crawling was one of those orientation events they organise for freshers to ensure that they spend their time too drunk to think about their misery. Also, my view of it is that it tells you that yes, there are worse experiences than university. *makes face*

I'm very much not into pubbing. I'd rather curl up in Borders with a nice book. XD Pub crawling is one of those things you do once and never do again. For me, at least.

Parties. ^_^ The only kind I like are hobbit, allofus, and Ratal gatherings. That's all the party I'll ever want.

I've never stepped foot into a club too! *high fives you and cheers wildly* All those I've been to were pubs.
24th-Sep-2003 08:04 am (UTC)

*smirk* Sorry, I'm stressed.

homesickness or hangover - not much of a choice there.

we should have a hobbit/ratal gathering one thunderstormy day where we just each bring a book and curl up in cushions n read, with a nice hot cup of tea ^^
24th-Sep-2003 04:49 am (UTC)
It sounds very interesting. XD And that bit about what Gaiman wrote feels very true - I agree about using experiences, good or bad, so you know what it really feels like - but I'm too lazy to actually go out there and look for experiences. Hence immaturity of my writing. ^_^;;

Did think I should try getting drunk one day, just to see what it's like but er. That would involve *liking* alcohol enough to actually drink that much, right? ... *grin*
24th-Sep-2003 06:40 am (UTC)
Your writing? Immature? I think not!

^_^ I think it has potential to make interesting writing, but the actual experience was somewhere between going for PE lessons and waiting for the dentist. *tilts head and smiles*

I agree! It might actually be worth it to try and get drunk, but I think the hangover would probably kill all my enthusiasm for alcohol. ^_^
24th-Sep-2003 07:05 am (UTC)
Heh. Yes, I can imagine. Pub crawling sounds interesting in a scary argh way. XD

And sadly, I probably won't even GET to the hangover because I honestly *don't* like the taste of alcohol. Have tried small amounts of beer and vodka, and they did nothing for me (beyond taste very strong and bitter. And sake has a Very Strong Smell). *grin* Guess me and drunken-ness were just not meant to be~ (I have a friend who's supposed to be allgergic to alcohol. A family thing, apparently, though I don't think she's even drunk enough to find out if it'll really give her rashes...)
24th-Sep-2003 08:00 am (UTC)
No, don't try getting drunk. Seriously. It's pointless, cos you can't remember it anyway, and before you reach the point where you forget, you just get woozy n silly n hysterical/crazy. And when you wake up, it's not the funnest thing in the world.

Sugar high is a lot more fun ^^
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