Academic Hysteria

Sometimes things get mutated out of proportion through a toxic and masochistic mix of self-interest and apprehension.


It was one such occasion this morning.


It began yesterday when I discovered that I had been allotted a 10 minute slot in order to discuss my proposal for a research question. This would not have been an issue if I actually had a proposal. As I soon realised my very basic nugget of an idea would not stretch to ten minutes of explanation, even with intelligent and sincere questions spaced liberally throughout. It was with mounting stress that I plundered the library for relevant texts (one small research paper stretching over a ‘staggering’ 16 pages). I made good my escape, my purloined sirloin of a research paper hidden snugly in my bag. I also managed to part ways with my small change as the library’s inefficient retrieval system from the deposit box outside means that despite returning books on time I returned books late, totting up a displeasing 90p in fines.


Even the libraries (or Learning Resource Centre as it unimperiously names itself) are being manned by highwaymen in broken Britain. Damn LRC, it stands for Load of Robbing Curmudgeons. There is a punchier C word that I have previously used that I am politely avoiding as I would not like to use the same sort of language to describe being physically assaulted with having to pay a 90p fine. Because being assaulted cost me over £7 in damages. That is over seven times as expensive as the library fine. Much worse I think you’d agree.


I then placed myself, as comfortably as possible considering the looming ugly colossus of a 10 minute grilling from my lecturer, on a bench in the (moderate and unexpected) sunshine of a Welsh March. I was further exasperated with the presence of a large group of student surveyors decked out in their hard hats and luminous garb who had placed themselves in the immediate vicinity of my preferred bench. This I found unacceptable as I like that bench. It is relatively secluded and offers opportunities for appreciation of nature (birds and mountains) and also for people watching (birds and mountains).


I soon accepted that I would have to retreat to a less pleasing bench and did so post haste. This proved to be a good decision as soon distant rumblings from beyond time and space informed me that these student goons had begun making a mess of my idyllic area with their drills and diggers. I was displeased. I had very much enjoyed the general ambience of the area, with it’s…


Two magpies just landed on my windowsill inches from my face (separated by glass)(my face from the magpies that is, not the two magpies separated from each other by glass)(that would be cruel). I take this to be an intense indicator of good luck. Although telling you that may have spoiled the narrative arc of the story I am in the middle of. My mouth is also currently burning from eating Jalapeno Pepper flavour crisps, though I am unsure whether this is also an omen.


...the area, with it’s generous views of the South Wales valleys and its wildlife, including, but not restricted to, magpies, rabbits, squirrels, tiny orange women wearing far too little (it is sunny but it is also March) and huge orange men wearing far too little (it is sunny but it is also March)(and vests are a crime against decency). I feel I must note at this point that there is a vast array of types of people that pass this bench, it is not restricted only to the “Orange Chav” variety. There are gothicks and moshers as well an’na like. The sun is the best fishhook for snaring the unwary outdoors, in all of their semi-naked ‘glory’. In retrospect maybe I am the deviant one in my jumper, it isn’t all that cold. Humbug.


The bench is also located next to a wonderful building whose architecture pleases mine eye, and it also juxtaposes delightfully with a plot of land which used to house a place of religious worship, which has since been demolished. Proof if proof were needed that there is no god, or at the very least, that he is unable to stop diggers from making a mess of his house. Although considering the vast number of “houses of god” that exist on this planet, such a small dent in his real estate portfolio would be of little consequence to the almighty. The bible fails to mention that the lord is a bit of a tycoon.


I sat down to read in my substitute bench, which in comparison offered views of a recycling bin and a bush. But I was not there to admire the view! I had to read, and read fast. I needed a working knowledge of the text in order to provide a passing for intelligent proposal. Luckily the paper was one of those rare academic texts that is genuinely interesting, or maybe I am simply becoming irredeemably buried in an academic world where my personal idea of fun is a half-hour meta-analysis on the role of list-making in a workplace dynamic. It isn’t. I would much rather a half-hour meta-analysis of other things. Just to be clear. I do like meta-analysis. However, I have no time for lists. Just so you don’t think I’m some sort of nerd. Ha. If you do I will find you and meta-analyse you. Yeah, you’ll be laughing on the same side of your face then.


The rather staggered end of this story then is that when I went to give the proposal it was not as formal as I had worried, and my rather rushed preparation beforehand was more than adequate. It would have been better if I hadn’t spent my time slowly basting in a laminate coating of my own sweat, but I suppose the clammy hours are what get things done. It surely can’t be good to be so stressed though, even if it does make for a rather tedious and hopefully mildly amusing tale afterwards.


You may think it is interesting that I could have been doing work instead of writing this, in order to alleviate the onset of stress that is likely to occur when the next meeting comes around.


Well you are wrong! It isn’t interesting and you are obviously a complete oik for thinking it. I’ll do work in my own time, stop bullying me. Jordi Cruijff!


So, I think that this story has ground to its death, if you thought it was boring then go back to the start and pretend I am someone exciting as you read it through.


“OMG Stephen Fry’s favourite bench area was ruined by student surveyors!!!”


“No wayz!!!”


Instant gold. Just add Fry.