Twenty minutes, that’s all I’m giving myself to regurgitate all that I’ve chucked in the corners of my head over the past week. Twenty minutes till I hit the books again.
The best friend left this week and it wasn’t as emotional as I expected.
None of us cried, or at least, not in the presence of everyone else. I didn’t. Not even when everyone dispersed and the reality of not being able to call her up for a movie any time I wish sank in. I don’t know who to drag along with me to watch Me and Earl and the Dying Girl when it’s released now – we’ve been planning to watch that for ages. Since the film was debuted at Sundance to rave reviews (said reviews then led to strange all-capitalised conversations peppered with countless exclamation marks), we’ve been meaning to see it together when it’s released in local cinemas but I suppose that’s not happening now.
Maybe we’ll just find a low quality streaming link to it and just watch it when she gets back in nine months.
She’s been telling me about all her adventures through London, so I’m living vicariously through her pictures of Madame Tussauds statues and flea market hauls. She hasn’t met Benedict Cumberbatch though.
Some friends and I had a sleepover the night we sent her off – our friends from the special arts programme in secondary school crashed my dorm after seeing her (and her family) off at the airport in the most ungodly hours of the night. The bunch of us haven’t been close since our secondary school graduation, but everything seemed to fall back into place as we laughed and reminisced about the havoc we wreaked in the art room that night. I miss the art room. It’s odd how the bunch of us who’ve been pretty splintered and disconnected following our secondary school graduation were brought back together only for someone’s departure.
Old friends occupied the first half of my week, and then everything was back to normal. Back to university, back to studying, back to the already familiar college grind. I made a perfect score on my first European History lecture test. It’s a good start to my academic career, I suppose, so let’s just hope that everything else that follows keeps up. On that note, I’ve been researching graduate English courses at Oxbridge. Admission requirements are so painfully high I’m not so sure if I’ll be able to meet them, but I suppose that just gives me something to work towards.
It’s 8. Time’s up, and the readings beckon.
Other things I have left to recount: other best friend is to visit on Friday with gifts; I’ll be watching Inside Out with some of my new friends from college soon.