Uni, Day 1

Sitting on the grass outside my future tute room, disappointment at the cancellation of Lecture The First, but a little excitement at having already made the acquaintance of a fellow student.

 

Steph was studying genetics before changing to creative writing, to follow a bent that saw her penning children’s stories for her four year old’s entertainment. A tall, saxonesque lovely, she told me how her brothers are also scientists who’ve embraced the Arts, with one at NIDA and the other …I can’t remember.

 

A nice start, even though I’ve already discovered that I need to be regularly checking the Humanities website for changes and alterations, which if I had would’ve told me that we’re now in one big lecture from 1 to 2 and then a tute group from 2 till 4. Oh well, I hope this oversight won’t cost me! I feel secure that I’ll be in that tute group and not shunted to the 4 to 6 one…although even if so, I wouldn’t be too unhappy at the prospect of having to wait around as it would give me a time buffer in which to prep more fully for my tutes. Positive spin rocks!

 

God, I want to make you not that which occurs to me sometime around lunchtime, when the tide of thoughts and feelings recedes to expose your crystalline sands to the golden light of consciousness, but a very extension of my sleeping mind and the first thought to coalesce, even before my eyes open to greet the day. A worthy ambition!

 

I’ve been proofing Ruma’s affidavit over the weekend and finished about a third of its 73 pages. I feel sympathy for what they’ve been thru, and not a little amazed at how often he had to suppress his own internal warning alarms in order to get himself into the financially ruinous situation they find themselves now in. Should he walk away and hand victory to an obviously ruthless and brazen cheater with whom they’re even now joined at the hip, or should he pursue what will no doubt be at best a pyrrhic victory in the pursuit of fractional restitution?

 

Although I feel sympathy for his plight, I can’t help thinking that no court in the land would grant him satisfaction just because he was too greedy to understand that ignorance is every reason not to sign oneself into an agreement with such horrific ramifications. But who was to know? Yes, if something seems to good to be true it usually is, but if they had pulled it off then the world would now be singing his praises, instead of hounding him into the hottest potential war zone since Normandy, 1944. C’est la fucking vie, hey?

 

I can’t envisage Cips feeling remorse over what happened, in that they knew exactly what they were doing and this is probably exactly the outcome they deceived my friend into from the beginning.

 

I sadly applaud Ruma's honesty in confessing his own naiveté but even so that isn’t enough to tilt the legal balance in his favour – unless he admits his own complicity to Cip’s crooked schemes and tries to drag them both down together in what will only result in vengeful, mutual suicide. Cip has probably accumulated enough incriminating ammo to make Ruma the patsy for everything that went down and the result could even be Cip’s head yet above water, standing on my friend’s shoulders as he gasps out his last, deep in the muddy depths.

 

To class!