(even that one)
Here at university, the archaic and infantile system of ‘after-school clubs’ has been replaced by a much more civilised and mature ‘society’ model, with the main difference being that now you have to pay fifty quid a year for the privilege of playing football on a muddy field with other unhealthy people, and now you have a Union to laugh off your trivial complaints about the inner-workings of this system, rather than the old deaf ears of teachers. Truly the ‘university experience’ is worth that nine grand a year.
For the record, the societies I would like to join are: Writers’, English, Cheese Grater (a magazine), Savage (another magazine), Pi Media (a necessary evil of a magazine that I need to rely on to write women’s match reports), Gender and Feminism (the source of those match reports), Hiking and Walking, Dodgeball, Handball, Karate, Parkour, Football (although I think I failed the trials), Book Club, Sci-Fi and Fantasy, YouTube, Watching Paint Dry, Stamp Collecting, The Theology Of The Twelve Human Gods In Battlestar Galactica, Needlework, Noodlework, Poodlework, Frugal-work, Dog-Walking, Being Walked By Dogs, Pipe Cleaner Model-Making, and Learning Ambidexterity To Benefit One’s Masturbatory Technique.
And only half of those were made-up.
There are obvious advantages to this system of sign-up sheet abusing – you make friends, find new interests, have something to do with your time that you don’t have to try to awkwardly arrange through Facebook messages and texts that leaves you with an incomplete group of friends going to a shitty bar no-one likes and feeling like a miserable bastard for making said unlucky friends choose this over going to a club where they’re giving out free drinks or something – and the standard disadvantages aren’t really an issue; sure, I’ve had to sacrifice Sci-Fi for Feminism, but these are mostly things I’m interested in anyway, and will be able to engage with without paying the four quid membership fee – I won’t start hating Battlestar because I don’t have Tuesday nights free to play board games about it.
The main disadvantage I’ve noticed is a physical one, rather than a logistical one, namely that after doing at least one vent a night, every night, for a week, my body is basically on strike; yesterday I felt so stiff I could barely move, and I gave up and came home last night when I couldn’t immediately find my friend at a show, whereas I would usually move Heaven and Earth to keep to a meeting I’d made a note of on my phone. And I had played football and dodgeball in the last two days, and am incredibly unhealthy for a slender eighteen-year-old who doesn’t smoke, drink, or take drugs, so my results are a bit biased, but it’s unlikely that I was reduced to a crippled wreck over two days. I’d probably gotten increasingly tired over that week of doing things.
If anything, this problem will get worse, as the stabilisers will come off these events as become full-on sessions, rather than taster ones; tonight’s Karate Club will be led by a member of the Irish national team who is, let’s be honest, probably better at Karate than the President of the society, a 21-year-old philosophy student (sorry man). There’ll also be a monetary aspect to this; even without the pocket-ravaging hundred quid needed to buy a year’s membership to both football and rugby, joining lots of societies does take money that would otherwise have been spent on food and other frivolities.
I suppose the system is self-regulating, that there literally aren’t enough hours in a week to do enough things to drive you insane or poor, so I probably won’t end up going insane or poor as a result of trying to do more varied things that write essays. But if I do end up homeless and nuts, I’ll blog about it; although it probably still won’t get as many views as the frakking Geography Pickup Lines post.