Well I’m back at Uni, things are pretty hectic. There’s certainly more work this year than we had to contend with in year one but I finally feel as though I have a pretty firm grasp on the techniques involved. It’s great to finally begin to feel like I know what I’m doing. On the other hand, as the fog of “what the fuck is going on” clears it reveals the bright and sunny question “Am I any good at this?” shining on the horizon.
Being at university at 30 is a whole different kettle of fish than it was when I was 18. I see my fellow student’s nonchalantly scraping by on the bare minimum of work, while they confidently cry “Hey! It’s cool! We’ve got three whole years here!” While I pile on as much work as I can possibly stand, screaming “Oh my god! I’ve only got three years to learn this!!!!” I’m sure they think I’m crazy. But with a family to support the question of “am I doing the right thing” is one that keeps flashing above my head like a buzzing neon sign.
So it is at times like these I feel compelled to heed a little of my own advice. As I keep on telling everyone around me after all I’m pretty much always right! And I look to a certain image that I have pinned above my pc, named “Chav Stoat”.
Ain’t he a cheeky little chappy? This delightful picture was taken by my wonderful mother, and was immediately singled out amongst her extensive and gorgeous collection of works as one of our favourite pieces. So it was, when we were sat around the television watching a feature on the Countryfile Calendar Competition that “Chav Stoat” immediately sprang to mind. I turned to my pensive parent, and insisted she send the picture in. To which she replied that it wouldn’t possibly be good enough. A week later I asked again weather she had sent off her work yet, and again was rebuffed with the claim that “they have THOUSANDS of entries! Mine will NEVER be good enough to be chosen!”
So we continued for another couple of weeks until the deadline had passed and we forgot all about it. So much was our horror when, once again curled up in front of Countryfile, they began listing the winners of the competition and THIS was shown!
Deadly silence followed for a few seconds, which then exploded into expletives from my mother, duly drowned out by my screaming “I told you so!” at the top of my voice. (As you can tell I’m very benevolent in victory)
So what is the moral to be learnt in this tale? What is the reason that Chav stoat now sits above my PC and grins cheekily down at me every time I’m thinking “god I’m never going to be good enough to make a living at this”? Simply that if you don’t try, you’ll NEVER get there. And you might just find out your better than you think!