It’s been just under a month since I handed in my final
university assignment and I have been in a somewhat…pensive mood, to say the
least, since then. There is, for me anyway, a sense of reflection needed in
such circumstances and because I am who I am, I tend to focus on the negatives,
that is, on the regrets. Things I would have done differently, and the reasons
why, and so, let’s get on with it.
Number 1: Journalism
In my first year of university, I was studying Journalism. In
some ways, I wish that I hadn’t dropped it. Though in other ways…Well, there
were a few reasons why I did and I’ve not really gone into them before but…fuck
it, there were four main reasons. 1) I wasn’t good at shorthand. Entirely my
own fault, I never practiced it. The fact is this, I’m lazy…lazy but
intelligent…and that’s been enough to get by in pretty much every other aspect
of life thus far experienced, but in such a practical aspect? It was
essentially learning a new language and that’s something a person simply can’t ‘fake’,
or perform innately. Funnily enough, it was actually acknowledging my failure
at shorthand that has made me into a decent student of Japanese, so, at least
there’s that. 2) One of my tutors told a story about how they had, when being a
newly hired journalist way back when, been forced to remove a story about the
dangerous practices of a local business because said business had an
advertising contract with the paper. A contract which would be terminated if
the story came to light, and so taking with it the money they brought to the
paper. I remember listening to this story and the tutor explaining it away as a
necessary evil of the business, and you know, I could understand it…but it did
dishearten me. Journalism was supposed to be about informing the public but
this, this was just advertising, which leads me to 3) Stories are just
advertisements. Not all of them, of course not, but the majority? I look back
at the stories I submitted for my final module, tate gallery exhibits, beatles
auctions, local council saying ‘we’re great us, ignore the mess’, it wasn’t
informative in the sense of it being things people need to know, it was
advertising. It was placating nonsense, adverts disguised as news. And as for
reason number four….I thought someone else was going to be there. That she wasn’t
was heartbreaking, at the time, but it worked out for her so I’m not too down
on that point. I was crushed though, at the time I mean, but (plays the self
loathing card) it probably worked out for the best. I hope, right? Anyway, it
did make the whole year harder to get through.
Number 2: Creative writing
I want to preface this, I really, really, really fucking
enjoyed creative writing. Most of it anyway, there were a few parts I disliked,
(I swear, if I have to hear how ‘great’ Chekhov’s short stories are ever again,
it’ll be too soon) but overall, it was good.
Having said that, however, the marking system is ass.
Subjective…subjects…..are always going to be difficult to assess, but the ‘system’
used in creative writing was ill-defined at best and deliberately obtuse at
worst. I wrote a story which the other people in my class loved. They loved it
so much they showed it to other students, ones not even on the writing course,
and they loved it. It, apparently, was good enough to cause nightmares in one
student and prevent them from sleeping after they’d read it and, despite that,
they re-read it again and again. The story got a mark of 62. What I’m getting
at here is not so much that 62 is a poor mark, or that my work was a
masterpiece which terrified people, what I’m getting at is that if my work had
been marked by the students….I’d have received a much, much higher mark. And
not because they’re colleagues or peers or whatever, but because it was a story
much more in tune with that audience.
My regret, essentially, is that I didn’t drop Creative Writing and focus
entirely on English because even though that subject is also quite subjective,
it isn’t nearly so as much as Creative Writing is. I’m pretty much nailed on
for a 2:1, had I dropped Creative Writing, I’m certain I would be looking at a
comfortable First.
Number 3: Friends (or lack thereof)
A little over a year ago now, I stopped being friends with a
group of people I’d known since school. It wasn’t that anything dramatic
happened, there was no fight, no big fallout or argument or whatever…In fact,
that was the issue, I was lowkey pissed off with how static the relationships
were. Not every day has to be this huge deal, every day at Disneyland or
whatever would turn sour pretty fast I would imagine, but by the same token,
doing the same boring thing every meet up….sit around in a dirty house, barely
talk, play videogames, watch movies, go home. Every weekend. The same thing.
For over a decade. My regret here is twofold. On the one hand, I wish I could
have actually got these people to do something. I tried, you know, to get them
out to play sports, to go the cinema, restaurants, football matches, and it’d
work for like three, maybe four weekends and then…back to routine. I should,
perhaps have tried harder. On the other hand, maybe I shouldn’t have tried at
all. The fact of it was that a few years back (actually, longer now….jeez,
like, 7-8 years ago…), I actually had a group of friends who were basically all
that and I slowly removed myself from that group to make the other group more
like….them….Jesus, I knew I’d done something stupid, but actually spelling it out
like this just makes it even more….and then there was another group who were
also better…and I didn’t hang with them because of the first group I mentioned….Goddamn
it all, I change this regret, this regret is now about how late I was in kicking
them to the kerb. I should have done it years ago whilst I still had the other
groups instead of tying myself to that rock.
Number 4: Japanese
This one is a faux regret. I don’t regret my ongoing lessons
in Japanese, I don’t regret my goal to get work in Japan and hopefully live
there for many years, what I regret is my trip to Tokyo last year. Not because
it was a terrible trip, or that it didn’t live up to my expectations, no, it
was the complete opposite. It was the best trip. It shattered expectations. My
fear was that thing where, have you ever been really looking forward to
something, maybe a holiday or an event, or hell, even something like Christmas,
and you hype it up and hype it up and then it arrives and it’s good, yeah, but
not as good as you’d hoped…and so you deflate a little bit, and you get increasingly
miffed because it’s just not exactly what you expected? You know, spoilt brat
syndrome (I kid, I jest, it’s not limited to just spoilt brats….petulant
princesses get it as well). Japan wasn’t like that. I hyped it up and hyped it
up and hyped it up and it met that hype. Met it and demolished it. My regret
was ever having to leave. For a few month after the journey, I was just
wandering around in what was essentially a fugue state. Not really doing
anything. I legitimately thought, at one point, so apathetic and listless I
was, that maybe I’d contracted some disease over there, maybe eaten something I
shouldn’t have and was now at the mercy of a parasitic mind-worm with a penchant
for gloomy moping, but it wasn’t the case at all. I was homesick for a place
that wasn’t home. And, I still feel that way. I want to get back there, any way
I can. So, I regret my trip to Tokyo because had I not gone, I would never have
known just how brilliant a place it is and I wouldn’t be longing for it so
much.
Anyway, I think this is a good place to start wrapping up,
because, by the time I’m finished, this piece is going to be over 1500 words,
could I do a number five? Sure. Of course I could, there are literally hundreds
of things I regret, thousands even, and that’s just in the last year or so, let
alone any time period before that, so, I think it’s best to keep it to just
four. Actually, there is one last thing. Today, June 4th, is my
birthday. I got a card and a cake from my mother, and a card from my sister (both
cards had a little money inside), but other than that, it’s just been a normal
day. This is not a plea for remembrance, or a chastisement for forgetting/not
knowing/caring, I’m vain but I’m not that vain and besides, I know that this
bed is one I made myself. I guess there is a fifth regret in this piece. I
regret not being able to talk to people. I just naturally assume that if people
aren’t talking to me that they don’t want to be talking to me at all and so I
don’t, generally, impose myself upon people.
Anyway, if you’ve read all that, thanks for reading. If not,
well, doesn’t really matter what I type here then, does it. I hope you
non-readers, the ones who saw it, sighed and moved on because hey, Terence is
talking shite again, I hope you drown in your own snot. Not the readers though,
you guys and gals are cool, may you all acquire cool hats that actually
compliment your appearance. (This is actually a really thoughtful wish, have
you seen it when people wear cool hats that don’t suit them? They look like
right pillocks, don’t they. You won’t though, not anymore, thanks to my wishfulfilment.
That’s right, I put those two words together, gaze upon it’s magnificence! GAZE
UPON IT! Anyway….bye.)
