They say this about a lot of things. And by ‘they’ I mean… Nobody that I know. Forget it, actually. I stepped onto campus getting lashed at by heat, the sun leering down on me like a Ford’s high beams, which made me the little Nissan at its mercy. Maybe this analogy only works if there’s a hole in the coolant tank, and its dripping everywhere. I was. I was sweating out the prior night’s worth of Cruisers. I wavered, a sweating ghost slowly drying out with each step, following behind Toby, Maia, and Nina. The parking lot opened around us, shuttle buses and ticket wardens filled my periphery, and I quickly realised how much I’d underestimated the size of campus. For so many cars, though, the buildings seemed dormant, no shapes moving behind the windows. Believe me, I’d have seen them.

“So… This the parking lot?” I said, down into the asphalt. Like white paint would have given me an answer.
“Um, yea. Yea. You park here,” Toby said, “just don’t park up over there.” He gestured vaguely to some corner of the campus. I knew from intuition (and Google Maps) he was talking about the staff parking lot.

“I thought it was all good when I came that one time, but I got my wheel clamped!” Nina said, shaking her head as if she’d been wronged, and then we crossed the road. We were all laughing at her story of getting clamped and ticketed, and in that laughter, accidentally took the long route to the Student Union Building.

Nexus’ offices are on the top floor of the S.U.B (direct all love notes, hate mail, anthrax attacks, fan art, or all the above, there) and after overcoming the staircase, I was greeted by the design team, who were rapidly moving to accommodate the soon to be five, plus a face on a phone call, of us with open arms. We took a handful of photos, and then all gathered around to get to work ticking off boxes. The office felt like it was opening as we bounced ideas off each other, and when I looked up from my phone screen, I realised that’s because it literally was. Cara and Kae’sharn were busy rearranging the space to fit our lofty ambitions, and the miles of trust extended to us, despite our wet ears and all. I worked until my phone got to 20%, and then I went home.

A series of questions I sent to V.C Quigley came back the next day, and I could feel my face failing to decide if I should’ve been in shock or amusement as my eyes scanned over the answers. I thought about what type of person might consider a ‘struggle meal’ to be Smashed Avocado with Feta Cheese and Balsamic Vinegar on Toast. I concluded that type of person would be Neil Quigley, V.C of Waikato Uni, whose name inspires visions of a particularly regal asshole. Toby messaged me about the answers a few hours later, with the ‘I told you so’ smugness of someone who had just won some bet. He had, two weeks earlier, said that Quigley’s struggle meal would be ‘caviar’. To give the V.C credit, I found myself nodding my head to answer 12. I thought it would demystify him a little bit. What I thought more of, though, and what James made apparent to me, was that I hadn’t even really started yet and I was already getting answers back from the VC. That meant something. Not just for me, though, but for the whole University really. I took a dramatic look out the window at the lake and campus and felt some sort of certainty well. I figured this must be what it feels like to be the first budding sprouts of spring. I figured this must be what it feels like to have your ex text you back ‘ily’ on valentines. I figured this must be what it feels like to be a university freshman. I figured I was about to be surrounded by over a thousand people feeling the same way. I figured there was something poignant in that. I’m not quite sure what, yet.

I am sure that I got at least a day’s head start on a sizable amount of you. So, eat my dust, shorts, etc.