Until next year ... flats are clean; exams are over; assignments are completed (or, at the very least, handed in). Summer has officially arrived - and I have hot sunburn to prove it.
This period of the summer holiday - essentially, the beginning - could be thought of as a "honeymoon" phase. Recent weeks of hard study provide ample and guilt-free excuses to relax or, for those still in Dunedin, to party.
This is the time to make plans and set a few summer goals. These precious weeks are reserved for those procrastinated activities forever delegated to "one day's spare time": Vegetarianism, yoga, painting, early rising, sleeping in, reading the Bible, wearing a new outfit. Good luck.
The honeymoon period is also a major adjustment period, as flatmates are replaced with family members.
The change in living companions undoubtedly calls for an alteration of behaviour.
Since being home, I'm forced to consider the activities of others when I organise my days. Bills are no longer split, but cars must be shared.
Comings and goings must be communicated, but lights can be left on without the repercussion of reprimand.
Thanks to an early exam schedule, the honeymoon phase of my holiday has now passed. Blameless laziness is long gone, and replaced with a job (or three).
While at work, some customers remark: "You're back again for the holidays, Katie?" And I internally whinge about the mislabelled reality of university holidays.
Paradoxically, students earn more money while on holiday than during any other time of the year.
Furthermore, most Otago students return home for their holiday, which is the opposite case to that of any normal vacation situation.
The paradox, however, goes both ways. After all, it seems ridiculous to claim that a semester of reading and writing could be conventionally considered "work". Yet despite how much I enjoy my time at uni, I still look forward to the holidays very much.
A couple of weeks before leaving Dunedin, I felt like I had a million things to do. Actually, there probably were a million things to do; I just didn't even have time to stop and count them all.
While walking past the kitchen window, the washing on the clothesline caught my eye. I was unexpectedly jealous of the way my skirt nonchalantly waved in the breeze, doused in sunlight. Within that moment, I suddenly realised how much I wanted to be on holiday.
Lying now under the sun, a cheeky breeze blows, and I'm as free as a skirt hanging out to dry.
There is a list of plans to begin.
Where to start? Perhaps I won't. Perhaps I'll pour myself a second (a third?) glass of bubbly, pluck another strawberry from the punnet, and begin a new book.
After reading a page, I dash inside to grab a pen and a dictionary. I resettle and resume reading; jotting notes and drawing arrows in margins throughout the book.
How funny it is that, about a month ago, such activity would have been considered "studying". Oh, minus the strawberries, of course! (And accompanied by a cheaper bottle of bubbly.)
- Katie Kenny studies English at the University of Otago.
