What's It All About Alfie?

I'm sitting on a bus, with freshly showered hair, on a discounted fare
all because I am a third level student. My time in UCC has been the
best, most enlightening and emotional time of my life (a little
Dawson's Creek detour has not done my generation any harm it would
seem). The only piece of advice I can issue is the same that was
divulged to me in the Western Star (the place to be back in the day)
during Fresher's Week. The best thing to do in this fish bowl of
anonymity is: Don't be afraid to ask for help.

Mammy is no longer found at the school gates at 3pm, dinner will no
longer appear magically on the table miraculously (this does not have
to be a disaster, might I just recommend the highly successful pasta
option- a food group all of its own its versatility alone will have
you never going without), the washing will pile up and socks will
disappear into the wide unknown, but all of this is entirely
manageable. I believe the "silver spoon" society is no longer the
asset it was once thought to be. By the end of week one you will have
a domesticated ritual that could rival Martha Stewart (in between her
jail time, har har har)

Alternatively you could just take it all in your stride, never wash
and only orange and purple foods. This would make you one of the
popular kids in the college experience, the one I would recommend that
the rest of us steer clear of and never make eye contact with.

On campus itself relax into the atmosphere. College is a lone
experience where it is justified and welcomed to sit reading alone in
the student center or the ORB (O'Rahilly Building) Don't expect any
lecturer to remember you! This is one thing that took me a good six
weeks to get used to. I believed that because I asked questions and
looked remotely interested in the lecture that my face would become
engraved in their minds and therefore saying hello to them in Java
City would lead onto a fantastically academic conversation about the
mating habits of the sea eagle. This did not happen, in fact, the
fantastical scenario in my head is so far from the confused
acknowledged nod I got from one lecturer that I chose never to salute
someone again.

Experience is the outright purpose of our College years. You will
travel, drink more than you thought biological capable of you, flirt
with the unknown (this experience is in direct association to the
drinking thing) and you will make friends, who in the most vomit
inducing of ways will become your family. They will see you at your
best and your worst (3am curled up in the foetal position at the end
of their bed rocking back and forth declaring that the MacDonalds
Eurosaver menus is a conspiracy created by the government). Treat them
as carefully as you can, to ensure your "Eurosaver" story never
becomes public.