Time And Time Again

Time and time again, time that cannot be used for anything…

It was good for while back then. I failed to acknowledge what a worthy distraction Christmas is; and now that it’s all over, things are grinding to halt once more. For one shining second, there was nothing to wait for. I was in that blissful and ignorant bubble, between the aftermath of my results and the onset of university offers. For a few days at least, I was either unaware or sufficiently distracted of the rest of the dates in the university application calendar. I never knew when I set out what a tedious and awful summer long process this was going to be. 10 months of coursework, then 16 days between first and last exams, a further 33 days till results, then 36 days till first offers, and additional 16 days till the second, and another 12 till it’s all over and you know for sure. This, I might add, is only about 5 days before the university term begins.
And so even before Christmas had fully left us, it all began all over again with such a ferocity that is enough to turn any one to drink. Christmas was a hollow and restless affair; urged on by the anxiety of a sole $380 Christmas present to myself that may never arrive. A foolish and premature grab at a life I may never have. Many future plans were committed to dust, by hard facts and unruly emotions alike; and I was left homeless in the future once more. Sadder still is that my grandmother’s is no longer an option. This somehow makes things both a lot simpler and easier, and a lot harder and more complicated. But I stand by my claim that I would much rather take on the impossible rental market in Melbourne than that impossible woman. And so it falls to friends, to unknowns, and to real estate websites. Just one amongst over 400 homeless students. Granted, there are houses, but they are slim and expensive pickings.
And then, though I cannot say enough how changeable these things tend to be; after months and months of anguish about my living arrangements, countless reshuffles, financial predictions, family feuds, the endless crusade for a caravan, the paper chase of getting it together, and many agonisingly careful proposals… the day after ruling my grandmother out of the equation, and taking a breather while resolving ourselves to that fact that all hope was near lost – everything was solved with one phone call. One of my mother’s friends had called or been called for the purpose of wishing a merry Christmas; and upon hearing our predicament offered up a room at his house. It seems he had been thinking about it for quite some time, and didn’t know how to bring it up or how it would be received. But I am very glad he said something, and my mother and I are both convinced he is psychic. It is the best arrangement we could have hoped for under these circumstances. He is a valued and trusted family friend whom I have known since I was born. He has a spare bedroom, and I understand that if I was willing to do some cooking and cleaning in exchange for the rent he would be more than happy. He lives a reasonable distance from the university, but more importantly very, very close to a train station. And best of all if I move in there we won’t have to spend thousands on a caravan and setting it up, I will be able to keep all my savings and so will my mother. And if I am prepared to live with the same old junk I have now; there should be no expenses whatsoever. It’ll just be a matter of one trailer down the highway to move one bedroom load of stuff into another.
It was the first thing in a long time that actually had me feel good about this. It has been a long time since the idea of going to university has been about going to the actual university and making friends and shopping and travel and all the wonderful things the city has to offer. I used to look at it with such a fondness and excitement it is only now I realise how stressed about the whole thing I became. This is not what I dreamt about alone at lunch time in my second-to-last year of high school, with my faith in humanity dwindling. Going to uni isn’t meant to be about fights and money and anxiety and the difference between a future and none.

It’s meant to be fun.



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