Why being a third year is better than being a fresher
Freshers ain’t got nothing on us
When you set off to uni, people will tell you “Freshers is the best week of your life” and “First year is the best, it’s all downhill after that”.
For most people it seems as if first year is an emotional roller-coaster – but it’s more like that Saw roller-coaster at Thorpe Park, which drops you on a 100 degree invert into spinning blades covered with blood whilst still managing to be kind of fun.
You spend half your year having the most amazing time ever and the other half crying on your bedroom floor in the foetal position unsure if you’ve made any real friends, contemplating dropping out because it’s just too hard and realising how fucking useless you are without your mum.
You’re all alone, in a new city, doing a course you aren’t entirely sure you understand, ignoring all of these things by drinking until you puke every other night.
You also have to deal with making new friends, which is tough because you can’t just dive straight in and unleash your weird side – you got to let that shit out slowly.
And you have to spend ages discovering where’s actually a good night out – first years take far too long to realise how terrible Gatecrasher and Stuesdays actually are.
And of course, you have to deal with the fact that everyone on your course is smarter than you, and you are way out of your depth. No? Just me?
The reality is: Freshers SUCKS.
Third Year is in fact much better – and here’s why:
By this point, your friendships are pretty solid. They know every weird thing about you. You can be as gross, as odd, as hyper, as neat, and your friends have been putting up with your shit for two years now, so they just let you be you. In first year, you spend a good proportion trying to fit in. None of that needed in third year.
They’ve known you for two years, so that’s a load of memories and emotional bonding. Your friends are one hell of a good life raft. Which helps because…
Third year is a massive amount of stress. Everyone is having breakdowns, but it’s okay, because we’re all in it together. Like one big stressed emotional support group. I’m stressed, you’re stressed, let’s get a bottle of wine instead of dealing with our very real responsibilities.
And when – by some miracle – you can actually have a night out, you’ll know what you’re doing.
You know where you like, you know where you don’t like, you know not to even suggest Gatecrasher, you know how to do pres like a well oiled machine, (hint for you freshers: don’t play ring of fire, play anything but ring of fire) and you know the best place for drunk food after.
Goodbye Adams Place, may you rest in peace.
Best of all – there’s no judgement for when you want to be boring.
So you want to spend your Sunday evening baking cakes and watching Downton Abbey with a cup of tea like a grandma? Great, your friends won’t care.
And even if there is still some public ridicule, you don’t give a fuck. You own your boring-ness. You might even learn to knit. Who cares?
But in all honesty, the real reason third year is the best is because you’ve already had an incredible two years and you know this is the last.
Never again will all your friends live with you, or in walking distance. Never again will you have so much free time. Never again will it be socially acceptable to go to the pub every night of the week. Never again will you live in this city, and go to this amazing university.
So you have to make this last year count. Because you don’t know if you’ll be so lucky again.
Thanks, Uni of Brum, it’s been a blast so far.