So, radio silence around here. A lot of drama and tension and relief and frustration because my family has a lot of issues.
But the good part of the silence? Well, I kind of got into my first choice university, studying Media Arts (thinking about it still makes me feel kind of ill, honestly.)
However, the university in question is in Sydney. Two hours away.
And I had no money to find an apartment. Now I have money… there are no apartments left, unless I happen to win the lottery. So the plan is commuting, at this point. It’s going to be dreadful and awful and miserable, but I don’t have a choice. I worked out that renting in Sydney will cost me around $20k for a year. If I am committing to that much money, I want to be really happy in that apartment; I want to love my days off because I’ll get to hang out there. It has to be – or have the potential to be – home.
So I start Wednesday.
Seven years older than most of the students, and I’m me. A lot of people, family members, have told me I’m scary. Because I’m so serious-looking, I guess, when I’m the goofiest person you’ll meet. I am crazy, silly, happy and so utterly, utterly childish, I should fit in great. I laugh all the time, loud and stupidly because the tiniest things are frelling hilarious.
But then, I’m also kind of a so-done-with-that snarky, judgemental bitch with trust issues that we can thank my final year in high school for.
So this is going to be awesome, mind-blowing and the happiest I’ve ever been in life, so far…
Or an unmitigated disaster.
Luckily, with a new laptop and iPad pending and a lot of commute time waiting for me, I’ll have a lot of time to blog all about it.