The College Years

Believe it or not, I went to university. *waits for you to stop laughing…waits longer…*

I was a young, naive eighteen year old girl who actually still believed that Laika, the Soviet space dog, had survived her perilous voyage into low earth orbit because no one had ever wanted to tell this animal lover the cold, hard truth. As you can imagine, the thought of moving out into the big bad world was pretty daunting for me. Despite the fears and apprehension that I had, I was also quite excited. I envisioned myself sashaying into lectures theatres wearing an oversized scarf and rimless glasses, carrying only the finest coffee from the goateed barista around the corner, surrounded by enlightened students and partaking in witty debates with our charismatic lecturer who I basically imagined as this guy:


Be still my beating heart…


In reality, once I looked up what sashaying is in the dictionary, I realised things would be very very different. Firstly, I was usually awkwardly sidestepping into whatever seat was available twenty minutes into the lecture. Secondly, I could never afford coffee. Many a lecture was spent gazing longingly at the rich girls sitting up front, sipping their latte macchiatos and looking radiant because of their ability to afford solid food and central heating. And finally, my lecturers were no where near as charismatic as Professor Lasky (except for the Canadian guy who wore flowery shirts and played Sinatra on Fridays). Instead, they picked their noses, mumbled apathetically through lecture notes and seemed to only converse with the mature students who eagerly sat in the front row using words like “utilitarian” and “stentorian”.


I had always thought of myself as somewhat intelligent and knowledgeable (I’ll conveniently ignore the time I put an egg on the grill) but university just served to inform me that what I don’t know could fill a rather large warehouse. There is nothing like sitting in a lecture while your professor and classmates are actually speaking in Middle English to make you feel out of place. I had my I have no idea what’s going on but the professor is looking at me nod down to a T though.



I had assumed that having read the main four Shakespearean tragedies, knowing a sonnet from a sestina and being able to use the word modicum in a sentence provided me with the basic requirements for university level English, but apparently I was wrong. Many students in my class had seemingly spent their teenage years reading Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky and the more obscure Shakespearean plays, like Troilus and Cressida and Timon of Athens because Hamlet and Othello are sooo mainstream. I had spent my teenage years making bad hair decisions and pining over Nick Carter’s curtain hair.



There was, of course, lectures that I loved and that I felt comfortable in. I majored in history and English because these have always been my favourite subjects. They are also the subjects that I now teach. My grades were consistently high (mostly because I had the amazing capacity to study for forty eight hours straight) and overall, I enjoyed college.

But then there were days where I was lazy and disinterested. I made some bad module choices; like when I chose a course called Information Revolutions because it sounded really exciting but turned out to be a history of technology and made me want to staple my eyelids shut. I got pretty lost pretty quickly.

Space Dog


In the end, I realised that choosing the right courses was basically the key to enjoying college and I was able to make informed decisions in my final year. And then I got a degree. 



No, really. And then I got another one. And then a diploma. Underneath all this madness, there’s a brain that can retain quite a lot of useless information and some useful information.

So what did my college experience teach me? Attending classes does not necessarily mean you will become enlightened and all-knowing. Feeling inadequate is totally normal, and while there are five people who may pipe up in lectures and seem like they really know their stuff, there are 195 more people who are just as silently insecure as you are. And finally, there is no substitute for life experience. I learned far more about self-reliance and independence (freezing my ass off when I couldn’t afford my heating bill), than any lecture could ever have taught me.

Cupid or Cats has been chosen as a finalist in the Most Humorous Blog category for the Weblog Awards 2015. I would be delighted and emotional if you could vote for me, because I can’t even ask my mother to. To vote, just click on the link below, select Cupid or Cats under the Most Humorous category and submit your email address. You then just have to verify your vote and presto, I love you. Thank you!

And to those who have already voted, thank you so much. *hugs you and sniffs your hair*


22 thoughts on “The College Years

    • janeybgood says:

      Aw thank you! It would be nice to win but considering that The Bloggess has millions of readers, I think it’s pretty much a done deal that she’ll get more votes. She is very funny, in fairness πŸ™‚
      If there is Rob, I’d like to know. I really would.

  1. Jessie Reyna says:

    I know the head nod well. First off, I majored in Art History and I had one professor that spoke like an old English ma-lady and I never had any idea what she was talking about. I also took a class called Natural Resources, and I walked away at the end of the semester not having a clue what I just “learned”. I still can’t tell you what that class was about.

    • janeybgood says:

      I also had those kind of professors. They always had the strangest, most unbelievable names. They were more like fictional characters.
      That’s happened to me on several occasions! The names sound so cool…and then you actually take the class and it’s painful.

      • Jessie Reyna says:

        It was rumored it was one of the easiest classes to take at my school. And everyone said the same thing – they had no clue what was happening and walled away with an A haha

      • janeybgood says:

        Ha! That’s good then. I got stuck in a class about the history of school curricula. It may sound interesting…actually, no, it doesn’t. And it wasn’t. I would have loved an A though πŸ™‚

  2. A Cookbook Collection says:

    Hahahaha! πŸ™‚ I could have written this post. Except there were no latte macchiatos in my day, it was the perfectly made up girls in the front who were dropped to the college gates in the morning by their mammies were my enemies. Benetton Babes we called them. God I’m showing my age.
    Didn’t see it through unfortunately. Beowulf finished me off I think!

    • janeybgood says:

      We called them “Comm Babes” cause they were nearly always commerce students. They lived in Uggs and expensive fake tan. I hear ya!
      Oh Jesus. Beowulf. I’d suppressed that one!

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