hello everyone I’m starting my masters next week and I’m bricking it so can everyone please send me some positive vibes <3 here is a lovely coffee I got on the autumn equinox
hi, it’s only day 2 of living a double life (working in marketing while getting my masters on the side) and it’s already very difficult. had a bit of a panic about it but then wrote a list and did some planning and feeling a bit better - I knew this would be hard but didn’t think it’d hit so early! off to bed now 💤
buying second hand books is the best. someone has annotated the picture of dorian gray repeatedly calling dorian a drama queen, it is really improving the experience of reading this book
hi everyone! a few of u asked to read a little bit of the book i am writing. so i am posting the first draft of chapter one! i wrote this for myself for fun without the intention of sharing it, so it’s not like good or anything. enjoy!!
chapter i - launched into space
Upon my first arrival at my university, one’s breath, for those sensible to the picturesque, is taken away. On that first morning as my father’s old car chugged up the long drive leading to campus from the New England town of Warren, the sun illuminated the large admissions building. Everything had seemed larger then, the oak trees looming high around us. I sat up straight in my seat. The scene in front of me, from the wide iron gates to the magnificent stately home behind them - even to the purple hyacinths and hyssops planted neatly by the entrance – felt familiar. I had spent the last several months pouring over the photographs of the beautiful campus in the several brochures and prospectuses I treasured. The large rusty sign came into view, reading ‘South Warren Creek University’, and my dad took a deep inhalation.
“Here we are, then,” he said in his thick Italian accent. I nodded. The gates before us opened, and we drove into the large circular drive, stopping by the entrance to the main building. It was huge and red-bricked, with massive white windows that seemed to reach the ceilings of each room.
I walked into the large entrance, leaving my father sat in the car. I felt extremely small in the high ceilinged reception, which housed a large white desk and the most amount of flowers I have ever seen. There were a few other students milling around this room, either looking slightly lost or clinging to the side of an aristocratic parent. I belonged to the former. I felt suddenly inadequate, as although I had longed to be here for the latter portion of my life, having taken two years out to be here, I did not feel matched to the exquisitely presented other students, who appeared to be members of the elite classes. I rolled the sleeves of my ill-fitting tweed blazer slightly and approached the desk. The receptionist was engaged in a heated discussion with a boy who I assumed to be a new student, though he seemed much too tall to be one. He waved a cigarette in his hand.
“I’m sorry, sir,” The receptionist said with some strain. “This is a non-smoking area! It is simply not allowed!” The student’s anger grew.
“Do you not know who I am? I should like to smoke wherever I please. You have no decency!” He took a large brown envelope from the desk in front of him. Without warning, he looked at me with a smile and winked, dropped his cigarette to the ground and, stepping on it, turned to leave. His long black jacket billowed behind him.
I waited for a moment before slowly approaching the receptionist.
“Uh, hi. Romeo. I’m Romeo Moretti.” The receptionist nodded and pushed the glasses up the bridge of her nose. After some hurried typing on her computer, she turned to a large filing cabinet and searched through a plethora of brown envelopes, identical to the one the other student was carrying. She found one with my name printed on the front and handed it to me.
“Inside,” she gestured to the envelope, “is your welcome pack; it consists of a map, your class schedule, your room number, and room key. You are in the Buchanan campus. Take a right when you exit the building and you will find your accommodation. Welcome to South Warren.” She said this with not an ounce of enthusiasm. I stared at her for a second.
“Uh, thanks.”
My father and I drove away from the administrations building towards the Buchanan campus. The journey was short but through a thick forest. Eventually, my accommodation building came into view. It was another grand looking building surrounding a courtyard. Hundreds of mullioned windows lined each wall, partially covered by a snaking wisteria.
It didn’t take long to move all my belongings into my new room, which was located on the first floor. My father took the first opportunity to leave.
“Good luck, Tesoro.” He kissed my forehead and shut the door behind him.
I was completely alone. The walls around me felt unfamiliar. I lay on my bare bed and opened my worn copy of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, a book I turned to when feeling uneasy. Some hours rolled by, and although I could hear other students and their parents, it almost felt as if the room I lay in had been launched into space, and I was the only human being for miles.
Of course, I did manage to make some friends eventually. I spent the first couple of days, however, in my bedroom reading or walking the grounds. I had become very familiar with the Buchanan campus, with its thick forests between each building and graveled paths. I had discovered a hidden spot; a stone staircase leading to a dipped paved circular clearing, lined by a bench. It was a rather long walk from my accommodation building, however this worked in my favor, as I rarely saw anyone even go near it. I spent some hours here reading and smoking, often with a cup of coffee from the student café.
When the time came for my first class, I was beyond excited. I had longed for this. Taking two years out of school had meant my yearning for academia only increased. I couldn’t wait to meet my professors and resume my studies. Taking with me my leather satchel containing a fresh notepad and my fountain pen, I hurried across campus to the lecture theatre.
It was here I made my first friends. I shuffled onto a bench near the back of the theatre and removed my pen and notepad from my satchel. Next to me, a girl shuffled closer.
“Hi! I’m Angel,” She said nervously, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. I looked at her.
“Hi. Romeo.” I smiled.
“Wow, what an interesting name! Are your parents Shakespeare fans?”
“No, just Italian.” I laughed. “I am, though, which makes reading Romeo and Juliet a little weird for me.”
Angel stayed next to me through the lecture. I looked over to her notepad, where her handwriting swirled delicately across the page. She doodled small flowers in the corner when she lost concentration. The lecturer spoke passionately about Thucydides. I tried to absorb every word he spoke, having missed this setting so deeply.
After my first lecture, Angel invited me out for coffee. This being my first invite to a social event since I arrived, I quickly agreed. As we walked side by side along the leafy gravel path towards the student café she told me she majored in English Literature and was taking modules in Ancient History alongside this, as she felt it would aid her studies. I was thoroughly impressed. I had never met anyone as passionate about their subject as I was. I prayed I would meet more like her, unknowing that this friendship would eventually lead to unspeakable trauma.
