Upon leaving the warm, cozy (albeit stressful) surrounds of high school life and receiving my surprisingly adequate ATAR (Australian Tertiary Admission Ranking), I was thrust into four golden months of beach days and Macdonald’s runs, punctuated by some occasional alcohol fueled banter. But alas, as summer draws to a close, so did my (sort of) well earned holiday, signalling my advance to the next stage of my academic journey.

So it started, my first day of uni, offering a 6:30 am wake-up and half a muelsi bar before I cantered out the door worried that I’d miss my train, (we’ll get to the joys of the Adelaide Metro another time.) Thankfully, I was pleasantly early and my friends and I proceeded to make our way to our new place of learning, accompanied by roughly eleven sixteen year old mothers and three men looking as though they were about to stab me and rob me of my disappointingly minimal supply of money. But anyway, we alight from the train and make the short walk along the bustling North Terrace of Adelaide to finally find ourselves standing in front of the grand campus of the coveted University of Adelaide, suitably awed by the massive structure that stood in front of us. We look at each other and begin our first walk down an avenue, one which will become all too familiar in the years to come, leading us to our future careers, provided we aren’t bad at stuff.

It is within my first dozen ginger steps down a path that I hope leads somewhere, that I am viciously pummeled with words by a nearby individual. After regaining my composure, I find a young woman (older than me mind-you) enthusiastically asking me if I am interested in radical left wing politics, to which I politely decline and then spend the next thirty seconds trying to remember whether the left side of politics is the hippys or the guns. Why she asked me of all people is still a mystery, a man (only by law) who up until three weeks ago, didn’t know how to operate a washing machine until his mother gave him a rather detailed tutorial. In short, I’m no where near adulty enough to have a political opinion that spans further than, “Tony Abbott seemed like a bit of a fuck-wit”, “Joe Hockey smoked a cigar one time now every one doesn’t like him” and “Obama seems like a good bloke”. Upon reflection, this encounter was, in a weird way, symbolic of my ascent into the world of semi-adulthood (if that’s even a thing.) It also showed me just how little I know of this world and how much I need to grow as a person before I can state without hesitation either “yes I would love to be a radical left wing advocate Mrs hipster girl” or “no I love Malcolm”. Then again, even with my relatively minimal knowledge or indeed interest in the people who seem to be consistently bad at running the country, I’d like to think I would opt for neither, mainly because they both seem very absolute and equally dumb.

But, i digress (lol get it?) I run away from crazy activist girl and continue on my way. The rest of the day was filled with intro lectures and trying to decipher campus maps, mostly without too much trouble. Oh, there was also a fifty year old man wearing nothing but what must have been size 6 ripped denim shorts (the ones girls wear, i’m talking short shorts) and a spiked collar that complimented his perfectly bald head. Oh and big black, heeled boots, almost forgot about those. It was certainly a new experience.

But in summary… yeah uni’s alright so far.