Hi there, dear reader! How are you doing on this fine (oh, who am I kidding!) blizzard-like (!) winter morning?
All good? Excellent! Shall we proceed?
Since the day I was born... (I know this sounds like the start of a snore-inducing nostalgia rant, but bear with me!!) Ahem! Since the day I was born, my parents and teachers have endlessly showered me with (not to mention lathered, rinsed and repeated!) the same three words : "Do your best". Being a self-proclaimed, to-infinity-and-beyond perfectionist, I've applied them to my studies in the same way that I apply vegemite to my morning toast - with two tablespoons worth of enthusiasm! (What??? It tastes good!)
Sure, the whole "you can only do your best" thing is a bit clichéd, but when you're about to do a big scary exam or submit a 2500 word assignment (which can be even bigger and scarier!) it's comforting to know that you've done all that you can do. No questions asked. Story - end of.
Unless of course, you do your best and it doesn't work.
A few weeks ago, this exact thing happened to me. I had an Italian test on prepositions (the most evil grammatical constructions known to mankind!!) and boy, did I try hard! I rewrote all my notes (twice!), I did all the practice exercises in my book and on the LMS. When this didn't work, I even went to my professor, screaming 'AIUTO!', and borrowed his book on prepositions so that I could become the biggest crammer in all of cram history. Without a doubt, I did the best that I knew how. Surely then, I smashed the test and got H1s all round?
Well, not quite. In fact, not nearly quite!
The fact is: I stuffed up. Big time. It was probably the worst mark I've ever got in my life. The kind of mark that would make any self-respecting uni student want to build a tent out of their bed-covers and live there permanently with a torch, their favourite stuffed-toys and a box-set of 'Gilmore Girls'. (You've never built a tent out of bed-clothes before?? Disgraceful!!! Finish this blog and start constructing one at once!!) To be perfectly frank, I didn't give a baboon's bottom about the fact that I'd done my best. All that mattered was that I'd made a complete monkey of myself.
Ah me, what a sob story! So, where to from here?
It took me a long time (not to mention several boxes of Kleenex) for me to get to where I am on this issue. And the conclusion I've come to is this: it's not what you do that matters, but how you do it. Sure, it's great to do your best. Yet, if you want to succeed, you have to do your best in the right way. Example: instead of re-writing all those notes and reading my teacher's book, I really should have been doing more exercises. Not only this, but instead of just doing the exercises, I should have reviewed my mistakes and done the exercises again until the mistakes were no more. By doing my best in the right way and studying smart, instead of hard, I got to redeem myself in the final exam and nailed it. (Take THAT you position-indicating grammatical pains-in-the-backside!!)
But, heck - I hear you all protesting - Aimee, you didn't know any of this before you did the test! How could you possibly have prevented this?
Well, that brings me to my next inspirational reflection.
People so often think that learning, if you plotted it on a graph, would look like a nice steep diagonal ascent. You know - kind of like Superman in tights-wearing aerodynamic flight?
Actually, as a wise person once told me, learning does not happen in perfectly straight ascending lines. (I wish!) Most of the time, it's more like a huge whacky bonkers zig-zag which, most of the time, is turning upward. Though it can go down, left, right or side-ways, depending on the mood you're in and how much attention you paid in yesterday's lecture. If, like me, you utterly and irrevocably mess something up, it doesn't mean that you're a failure at life. (No, seriously!!) All it means is that, right now, you're in one of those whoopsy-daisy downward curvy bits. These spiky little down-turns are not blips on an otherwise perfect graph - they are where most of your learning occurs. If you make the most of them, you won't "prevent" another stuff-up, but you will prevent yourself from stuffing up in the same way twice. What I'm trying to say is: don't just do your best and be done with it. Do your best to learn from your mistakes. This will make your zig-zag graph turn sunny-side up! (At least, for a bit... until the next hell-sent preposition-equivalent comes along to terrorise - I mean, improve! - your learning experience.)
And, while we're on the subject, stop turning mistakes into the enemy!!! I'd say part of the reason that we have all these 'do your best' clichés is that society wants us to feel like failing is a bad thing. This way, we will aim to be successful all the time and keep society running smoothly. (Well, dang it, society!) This is completely the wrong attitude. Any mistake you make is not comparable to General Zod or Kryptonite Man. Mistakes are your FRIENDS. They are learning curves which are designed to turn you into a cooler underpants-on-the-inside version of Clark Kent.
Don't let a little learning curve defeat you! Don't let pesky prepositions defeat you!! Do your best in the best possible way and I promise you that you will SHINE!
Aimee
Hello there, my readery friends!
You look like a combination of bone-dead tired and euphorically-expectant. Could it be because it's nearly holidays?
How did I guess? Just call me psychic...
While you've been out there doing all the things that blog-readers usually do, I (and my poor fellow first years) have entered Swot Vac. (Seriously, which nincompoop so irresponsibly put the words 'swot' and 'vacation' together?!?) Ultimately, this unforgivable word-combo spells one big disaster waiting to happen: exams!
On that note, please excuse me while I creatively express my feelings on this subject...
*ARRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!*
All better!
Call me crazy, but, with this exam thingymajig looming over me, I haven't had the time of my young life. It started last Monday when, after 14 days of sweat and blood spent on a major assignment, I had to sweat and bleed even more in the name of revision. Very soon, I went utterly, completely, stark-raving mad. (And that's an understatement!) By Thursday, I was falling asleep on any available surface (my desk included) and I realised that I hadn't been outside in five days. What was worse, all that studying made me pre-verbal. To sum up, the kettle became "that silvery-black thing that hot water comes out of - I've used it at least six times today". (Don't judge me - I forget the names of inanimate objects when I'm stressed!)
Let's face it: exams are the ultimate enemy of fun.
Or are they?
You see, my blog-reading chum, after four days of going bonkers, I had a revelation from the god of university students. What was this revelation? Well, I can tell it to you in two words:
STUFF THIS!
And now for the longer version... I'd been studying so hard, that a lot of important things got thrown-out with the recycling. Things like nail-painting, Star Trek marathons and that vital midday appointment with my bed. Why? Because I'm a grown-up and studying is what grown-up people do. (At least, if they want a decent start in life...)
Well, here's a spanner in the works: I don't want to grow up! If growing up means working myself to the point of insanity, so that I can enjoy myself when I'm old, frankly, I want no part of it! I want to feel young and free. Free to jump on my bed until the springs break. Free to swing on the washing line. Free to write nutty confessions in a blog-post and not care, because what other people think doesn't matter to me. (Hint, hint!) Free to just enjoy myself.
So, these past few days, that's exactly what I've done.
In honor of my regression to childhood, I've devised interpretive break-dances in my bedroom. I've performed flashlight-karaoke in the dark to my favourite Mika songs. I even did the geekiest thing imaginable and ate fish fingers with custard as a demonstration of love for Dr Who. (Actually, it tasted pretty good!)
Ahem... say nothing!
To top it all off, I did something which all my friends found to be absolutely scandalous. I took the weekend off. (Shocking, I know!)
Now, I feel great.
Don't misunderstand me, my reader buddies: I am no stranger to responsibility and I take my responsibility to study very seriously. But, somehow, with all this talk about growing-up, I nearly lost the one thing that made childhood the ultimate-time-to-be-alive: FUN.
So, here I am, readers, on the brink of a revolution. And I want you all behind me.
Whether you're old or young, student or teacher, parent or business executive, I dare you to reclaim your childhood. I dare you to dance and sing when you want. I dare you to sleep when you want - even if it's during your lunch-break. I dare you to eat what you want - even if it's something crazy like fish-custard or a triple-decker ice-cream sandwich. I dare you to have fun, in your own way, and forget about what other people think of you or what society thinks you should be doing. (Stressing out about exams, for example!)
In short, I dare you to never grow up. Because, I've discovered that growing-up doesn't have to mean what we think it does. It definitely does NOT have to mean the end of fun.
Thank you and good afternoon! :)
Aimee
Week 12 everybody! Back in middle/high school, I'm already kicking back in class, watching a movie as part of the last subject class of the school year, saying farewells to those moving away early. Ever since Year 12 though, I learnt that the last week of teaching is just the calm before the storm. Continue reading "Bear Down" →
Hello my favourite reader pal!
Today I want to talk to you about something all-important: independence. It's a big word, isn't it? Independence. In-dee-pen-dance. Have you ever noticed how when you say it slowly it sounds like a dance? As in: "I'm indepen-dancing!" (Get it? Indepen-dancing...? No? Okay...)
Seriously though, once you get to uni, the word 'independence' becomes a big deal. Whereas before, it was perfectly acceptable to scream 'MUMMY!' and run to the nearest dependable adult, at university, things change. (It's a bit depressing really!) Suddenly, YOU are the adult and you get bombarded by nouns with the word 'independent' attached to them. Independent learner. Independent thinker. Independent life-manager. Want to know the craziest part? Being independent doesn't come with an instruction manual. No one teaches you how to indepen-dance. You just do it.
But, what does it mean to be independent? And how do you learn to indepen-dance?
This brings me to this week's little anecdote...
A while back, I attempted what seemed, at the time, to be death-defyingly impossible - nay, inconceivable! - and used a printer.
Now that I've told you my death-defying & impossible feat, it might not sound so death-defying or impossible. So, let me explain... First, printing at university is very different to printing at high school. Second, I'm one of those people who should not be allowed anywhere near a piece of sophisticated technology. Ever.
The story began in the library, when I wasn't sure how to print without a credit card. Thinking I needed help, I got onto the 'ask a librarian' page and asked a librarian.
"How do I top up my unicard account without a credit card?"
The answer I got from the librarian: "To top up your unicard account, use your credit card."
Well!
In vain I explained that I don't possess this all-important key to internet transactions. It was too late. The librarian had gone offline. (Probably to get a well-deserved coffee!) Deciding to embrace independence, I went to top up my card on the scary-looking top-up machine - all by myself!
This was where the trouble started. I told you I have a bad effect on technology - well, this was no exception! The minute I logged in, the unicard machine (which I'm sure was a trained extortionist!) refused to accept my money. Every time I fed it a five dollar note, the money was rudely spat back in my face. Even better, a queue of people was gathering behind me, waiting to top up their cards. So, my fight with the machine scored a live audience! After minutes of the machine regurgitating my money, me running everywhere to catch my five dollars and the crowd behind me looking more and more annoyed, I cracked.
"Listen to me, you product of Satan! If you're hoping to extort more money from me, you're out of luck! I'm a wallet-empty HECS-debt-loaded student. I've only got five bucks and I have three massive readings to print - so, suck it up!"
Apparently persuaded, the machine obeyed.
The next step on my cataclysmic journey was to get the printer to work. This was no easy task. It took me a record-breaking ten tries to get it to respond. This meant that everyone in the library got to watch their favourite first-year comedian do ten long laps between her laptop and the printer.
At last, the printer decided to cooperate - at least, for a minute. Then, it made a terrible inhuman noise... (Imagine a cross between 'Alien' and 'The Lion King' and you'll get the idea!) There was a paper jam. *Cue horror movie music!*
By now, I could - and probably should - have renounced my mission and gone to get a librarian. Instead, being so independent, I tried to fix the problem myself. Following the instructions on the print-screen, I attempted to open the printer and clear the jam. Unfortunately, I opened the wrong side. As a result, part of the printer accidentally broke off in my hand. (It's times like this where life should come with an undo button!)
Mortified, I tried to gauge the reaction of my audience. Were they laughing? Or were they about to report me for printer-directed vandalism? Neither. They contemplated me with bored expressions and got back to work.
By some miracle, I undid the damage and, after only five attempts, restarted the printer. It worked for a while. Then, obviously possessed by some malevolent demon, it made the terrible noise again and bingo: another paper jam! Once again, I set to work fixing it. What came out of the printer this time was a sheet of A4 so hot that it must have been torched by a fire-breathing devil. Ink had been printed all over it and it had been sliced into lots of little pieces.
I cursed the printer with every rude word I could think of and then looked at my fellow library-goers. Surely, my performance had earned at least a smile? No luck. They all stared at me in deathly silence. The boy behind me, in fact, looked like he was struggling to contain his irritation.
Still, I wasn't beaten. Summoning up the last of my independent-mind-strength, I restarted the printer. Like something out of 'The Exorcist', it decided to purge itself of its hellish printer demons and vomited out all three of my readings in one belch. There was just one problem - the readings were all mixed up together and in completely the wrong order. (You see what I mean now about me and technology?)
There I stood, like an island in a sea of paper, bewildered and completely helpless. Not to mention, surrounded by gawking fellow students. Then, I heard a funny coughing noise... Turning around, I realised it was the boy behind me. He had finally caved in and started laughing. And I don't mean a small inaudible 'LOL'. He was laughing so hard that he was in serious danger of wetting himself.
As an independent printer-user, I had flunked.
Yes, so, moving on...!
What's the moral of the story, my faithful reader buddies?
It's true that independence means sometimes going it solo. But, this doesn't mean you have to do absolutely everything by yourself. Sometimes, you need help. In these situations, wherever you are, the best thing you can do is ask. If you don't get the answer you're looking for, ask again! Otherwise, you may end up in a mess.
And, if you're anything like me, it will be an inky, papery, printery mess of epic proportions.
Nothing is worth such a mess. Not even the awkwardness of admitting that you might possibly have no idea what you're doing...
THE END.
DISCLAIMER: No people were harmed in the making of this blog post. The same cannot be said about printers.
Aimee
Studying as a Jaffy first-year student is not easy. From the expectations to listen and understand most, if not all the lectures, the assignments that you have to hand in before its due (and the notion that you're still working on it creeping up to you everyday until you hand it in), and the readings/problem booklet/quizzes that tries to trip challenge you and other classmates every week or so, more than once I felt that I was at the brink of crashing and burning. Fortunately, I'm always reminded of a little something I saw on the ad board in the Union House at the beginning of the semester. Continue reading "With a Little Help from My Friends" →
Of all the serendipities that university-hood has to offer, here’s something that has caught me with the widest possible grin; a Game of Thrones showing at the Rowdy library.
The TV lounge area at the Rowdy has been my little hobbit-hole for afternoon naps. A podcast episode, or a shoegaze-surf-esque playlist, would often fade off to reënergise me for later lectures. Today however, is different.
“Who are you?”
“No one.”
I gladly put my biphasic sleep schedule away, and a GoT episode has brought together a community of laughter, occasional cursing (what is a GoT episode without casual mind-blowing), and silent fervour.
“A girl has no name.”
Though strangers by nature, GoT easily surfaced our collective excitement and amusement, and it wasn’t long before I realised how much better a replacement of coffee—or napping—this episodic screening has become.
“What do you want me to do with this?”
It hadn’t properly hit me, until now, on how great it is to have the occasional courtyard concerts, sausage sizzles, and clubs fairs to keep community spirits up. Community is infectious, and I would love to take a hand in organising one of these events when the opportunity arises. I will definitely have to look into this after blogging.
“Wear it. Burn it. Do whatever you want.”
But for the time being, it’s back to Game of Thrones.
“My watch is ended.”
Dear reader,
You might remember me telling you that every so often, like anyone, I'm plagued by what can only be described as 'WHAT-IN-THE-NAME-OF-SANITY-AM-I-DOING-HERE?!?' moments.
Well, a while back, I had one and now, I want to tell you about it.
That's right, reader buddies: our relationship has progressed! Together, we have bypassed awkward acquaintanceship and moved on to... the next level! *Da-duh-daaaa!*
It's time for some honesty.
Like most first years, I came to uni with a suitcase full of expectations. Among these, two stood out. First, university would be a reward for working my butt off in Year 12. Second, university would be fun.
Like anyone with expectations, I had the joy of discovering that mine were pretty much completely wrong!
I soon learned that university, though it's rewarding in so many ways, isn't a reward for finishing Year 12. You don't come here to kick back and chill. (Oddly enough, that's why we have holidays!) University, like VCE, means hard work. I don't know why someone with an 90+ ATAR like me didn't work this out sooner. Maybe it's because people told me that doing an Arts degree is a breeze... (Or just maybe your ATAR isn't really the be-all-and-end-all measure of your intelligence - shock, horror, gasp! :O ) Well, dear reader, let me make one thing perfectly clear: doing Arts is in no way comparable to a gentle gust of warm air. Often, it's more like a hurricane!
Sure, the Artsy people get fewer contact hours than the Mathsy-Sciency people, but this is not because our professors love us so much that they want to shower us with heaps of time-off. Nada. We get more breaks to do what people in other degrees don't necessarily have to - reading, researching, reading, writing theses, reading, procrastinating about essays, reading, doing an all-nighter because we procrastinated too much... and did I mention reading?!?
And now, we come to revelation number 2.
I always thought that you came to university to have fun. You know the dream - becoming a puffed-up intellectual who dresses in tweed and spends all day debating the point of existence over endless cups of tea. (Wait, is it just me who dreams about tweed? Awkward...) Well, sure, it is fun. But, unlike Luna Park, university wasn't built for your amusement. It's here to help you qualify for a job.
And this is the hair-raising, spine-tingling, perspiration-producing truth - up until now, I had no clue what job I wanted. (Unfortunately, there isn't yet a degree to help you become the greatest, richest, most likeable person in the known-universe.... but I'll keep you posted!) Basically, this meant that I was working without motivation.
So, after these and other such goosebump-inspiring reflections, what did I do?
Surprisingly, I didn't jump on the next plane to Siberia, go into hiding with flying squirrels and spend the rest of my life buried under my doona cover. (Though, believe me, at the time, this seemed like the only possible - nay - sensible course of action.) Instead, I did the next best thing and called a friend.
I moaned, I whined, I lamented. "I didn't realise what I was getting myself in for! This university thing doesn't make any sense! Poor me...!" You get the idea.
Here's what my friend said to me:
"Well, of course you're feeling that way. I am, too. It's normal!"
That's when it hit me: oh yeah, there are a few thousand OTHER people doing first year WITH ME!
What then, you might be asking, is the point? Well, my digitally-interfaced pal, if you must have a point to take away from my yakking, please don't make it out to be that university is hard... Any duffer could think of that one!
I guess, what I really want to say, is that sometimes you will have these "OMG, this is too much - I'm fleeing the country!" moments. The thing is: you don't have to go through them alone. (What fun is Siberia without a fellow escapee anyway?)
If - no - when you find yourself in a situation that you can't handle, talk to someone. Anyone. Your parents. Your lover. Your unfailingly sensitive and understanding pet stick insect. Yell, scream, cry, punch things - they'll support you: ironically, that's what support teams are for! (Just don't punch the person you're confiding in, because then, you might have some problems...)
I'll bet you five bucks (as much as my student income will allow) that they'll know what you're on about. Chances are, they've been through it themselves. Then, you can enjoy the blissful experience of shared-ranting. This will make the world a much funnier and friendlier place.
And when the sun comes out, the clouds have cleared and you've realised that you're not alone, celebrate by euphorically singing 'You've Got the Love' into an egg-whisk while breaking open a congratulatory pack of peanut butter Tim-tams.
Is that just me again? Oh well.
Aimee
As I sit in the MSLC, shaking but relieved, I want to reflect on what, just, happened. Continue reading "Too Close for Comfort" →
You've survived half of your first semester at university! Pat on the back and a high-five for getting through so far- because wow, is it different from high school.
No one telling you to hand in homework.
No one telling you to be on time.
No lockers, no backpacks, no uniform.
At first this seemed like freedom. I could watch Netflix non-stop! Wear a onesie to class every day!
It would be great if we could all relax and get a H1 for all assignments. Unfortunately, after receiving back a first few assessments, even with effort scoring well can be hard. Some subjects are pleasantly easy, others are actually difficult once you begin the work. And after coming back from the big break (post-year 12 summer holiday) studying still feels like yesterday. I chose to start university straight after finishing high school. Sometimes seeing my friends on their gap year, having fun overseas makes me slightly jealous.
However it's important to stay positive. Coming back to study after a year-long break can be harder whereas diving straight in may keep you in the mindset. There's always the option of a gap year after undergraduate study, or combining holiday and study together by going on exchange during your bachelor course!
And, of course, remember the reasons for choosing your subjects. It's much easier to work on something you're interested in - find those moments that inspired you to know more!
Alright, enough of my motivational rambling and time to get cracking on those essays.
There's light at the end of the tunnel!
Eleanor
I still find it ridiculously fantastic to be able to tell someone "yeah, I'm studying at Melbourne Uni at the moment;" it makes me feel so grown up! But "how is that study going at the moment?" you may ask. "How has the transition been, have you found a balance between University-level study and the clubs, committees and events?" Well...
I was told many times that the transition is tough. "I haven't met someone who hasn't struggled with it," I read somewhere on the internet. Yet somehow, in all the excitement of just getting started at Uni, I still managed to underestimate it! It's probably a common Jaffy thing, because after leaving year 12 behind in that 3-month break I feel that I've had to completely re-learn how to study upon entering this new environment. The structure of University is just so completely different! Mostly for the better; there's heaps more flexibility and more choice when it comes to what you're studying and when, but the hard work is most definitely still there and the intensity can be quite extreme; in some cases entire VCE subjects are covered in one 12 week semester – and that's just first year! More than anything, the challenge is adapting your learning to this new structure.
So how have I coped with this change? Well I was dismayed to find myself steadily falling behind over the first few weeks, and then had to scramble to catch back up. I'd liken those first few weeks to marching into a dark cave; there was no way to know what it would be like, or what I would have to do to stay alive! I spent a large portion of the Easter break rewatching lectures, reading textbooks, completing worksheets and started week 5 (almost) completely back up to date. Since then I've been mostly keeping up with things, and study is important enough to me (as is my sanity come SWOTVAC) that I haven't let myself get too far behind, but it's a constant challenge.
I'd say I'm still transitioning, and will be for most of the year; figuring out how I study best in this context, where my best study spots are on campus, and how to manage my time to make the most of everything here at UniMelb.
So to any future or present first years, here are my tips for acing the initial study transition:
- Prepare yourself for a change; just be cognisant of it
- Try and keep up with classes from the very beginning of the semester. I fell into the trap of thinking "it's only week one, it's not important yet" but every week is important when it's one of 12, even the first! Don't let things snowball!
- Check up on yourself every week or so to make sure you're moving in the right direction in terms of study and balance.
- Make use of any breaks you have in the day to get work done. It can be tempting to just chat to friends for the whole time or take three hours for lunch, but you'll thank yourself when you get home and have no work left to do for the night!
- Choose which club events you want to go to strategically. You can't do everything! (Also, money doesn't grow on trees!) Fortunately, a lot of events and parties are held annually or semesterly, so chances are you'll have another opportunity to go even if this semester it's on the day before your mid semester test...
- Figure out how you study best. I have found it much easier to focus on my work when I'm on campus as opposed to at home, and some libraries work better for me than others. Find your fit!
So best of luck with all your assessments and mid-semester tests as we head into week 7. It's crazy to think, but semester will be over in just under 6 more weeks!
Thanks for taking the time to read,
Raph 😊
Coming up soon from me:
- Destination Melbourne: What was it and why you should go next year!
- Uni 101: What's the difference between a Tutorial and a Lecture?
- And other smaller posts on how Uni's going in general.
Number of posts found:
1312
