The Week Five Phenomenon

A strange and unfamiliar feeling invaded my body as I set out for uni. Was it the tofu casserole that I had eaten last night? Or maybe it was the realisation that I had four assessments due already that week? You know, the one that normally resides, sitting comfortably, in the background of your mind, never quite leaving you alone, shouting, mostly unheard, every time you do something else besides study. I was convinced that it somehow had stolen its way to the forefront of my mind and was currently fighting for control of my body, thus causing this unexplained feeling. But as I strolled confidently from my car across Bush Court to the seemingly hidden and out of the way room to which I visit once a week for one of my tutorials, I was hit with a blinding realisation of what that unfamiliar feeling actually was. For lack of a better description, I labelled it the Week Five Phenomenon.

I suddenly realised that I no longer felt lost.

No longer did I walk slowly, meticulously scanning each sign as I passed, hopelessly praying to find one that matched the room number on my print out off Myinfo.

No longer did I have to try to maintain a cool demeanour when I realised I was walking in the complete wrong direction and had to do an obvious about-face, trying to avoid the eyes of the other students who could tell that I was lost and were either secretly laughing at me or feeling grateful that it wasn’t them.

No longer did I linger after a lecture hoping to catch someone who looked like they may be heading off to the same tutorial as me, so I could follow them, all the while trying to act like I am not in fact stalking them and about to steal their small change and their iPod.

No longer did I find out that I was in fact following someone who was heading off to the Ref and not my next class, thus finding my genius plan thwarted and then having to anxiously scan the crowds to find someone else who looks like they too may be going to my next class.

No longer did I have to plan my day with half hour time frames slotted before each class to give myself time to wander the deserted halls of the EH building, convinced that I have somehow sashayed into a restricted zone and would promptly be told off, left to scurry red faced from the teachers lounge, just so I would have time to find my room.

No longer did I turn up to my classes 20 minutes early to be faced with at least half a dozen others who had obviously also scheduled ‘getting lost’ time into their timetables. Faces plastered with shock, that they hadn’t indeed gotten lost.

In the erstwhile weeks I had managed not only to find all of my lecture halls and tutorial rooms, but even all my assignments boxes. And throughout my wanderings I had even discovered the offices of a unit coordinator or two. I had traipsed newly familiar paths and sought out multiple other ways to get where I needed to be.

I felt a disproportionate amount of pleasure at my discovery, more suited to say, the discovery of gravity, or a cure for cancer. But although I didn’t conceive a grand solution to any of the greater problems of the human race, I had achieved what seemed impossible merely a few weeks earlier. To be able to stroll the campus, stop and chat with friends, enjoy the sunshine, all the while knowing exactly where I was headed.