September is the New Years of college life. New semester, new me. Each and every year without fail, students make far-fetched promises to themselves about how this year is going to be their year. Golden weeks will abound, they’ll be in the library every night of the week, and the Mardyke staff will know them by name. Oh, and an active social life too- while we’re at it.
If you manage to stick to this plan for beyond the first week, you’re besting the majority, and I’m including myself in that. I’ve got my own resolutions: I want to learn a new language this year, I want to make all my 9ams, and I’d be happy if I graced the library with my presence twice a week. I’ll count myself lucky if I actually fulfill one of these promises, but if you can’t lie to yourself, who can you lie to? Who knows, maybe next year I’ll be one of those smug healthy people who ‘just can’t wait for all the fake gym-goers to stop after two weeks so it quietens down’. It’s unlikely, but a girl can dream. Probably from my bed, during yet another of my 9ams.