Once upon a time I did an English degree.
And all was lost.
I’m so proud to finally be able to announce…
MY BLOG. Welcome. You may bring Lego. And croissants.
Firstly, to be proper…
My name is Emma.
Some things about me.
I’m 24 years old. I live in London. I was born in Scotland. I constantly wish I was Spanish. I’m going to Australia soon.
I know how to market myself. I published this blog when Broadchurch was on.
I am a daydreamer. I really love Urban Outfitters but it scares me to go inside because everyone wears Doc Martens and fringe-y things and has cool hair and my hair is like Aslan and I dress like the member of S Club 7 that never made the band.
None of my shoes fit. I love animals. I once told a doctor I work in theatre and she mistook me for a visiting surgeon.
I decided to write this blog about an hour and a half ago. I nearly accidentally bought a $125 espresso-themed layout. So it’s a miracle it even exists.
I don’t even like coffee.
This is my brand new blog!
Welcome, welcome to my brand new superbly creative way of procrastinating myself into my mid-twenties so that come September 2015 I will turn 25 and look back at my quarter of a century aaaaaaand… be able to examine chronologically where it all went so wrong.
By that point I will be mature enough to like the taste of wine, and I shall accompany my sorrow with a glass of Merlot.
Followed by WKD and Wotsits.
One of my earliest memories is faking wetting myself to get out of my ballet class.
This is slowly becoming a metaphor for my existence.
I am a day’s work away from squatting in a January puddle, and displaying myself to my boss in the hope I can go home early, hide and play with my Sylvanian families until I’m put in a care home.
I’m about as good at real life as I was at ballet. I don’t have a tutu anymore. I’m flexible enough to get in the shower but not always flexible enough to get out.
I am turning 25 this year. 2015. The big one. So far it’s been quite productive. I’ve watched all three Back to the Future films for the first time. I’ve filled in my tax return. I watched some beauty blogs and tried to blowdry my hair properly.
I looked like Mufasa’s burnt sister.
I wrote three songs about winter for the 3 year olds I teach and they sang along partially.
But I WANT MORE.
So this is it. The plan. If I write this blog, I will have to achieve more because I will be achieving in public.
I was going to write some more things but I need to watch the Broadchurch repeat now or my week is out of sync. So I shall leave you with something a wiser-than-me 3 year old said to me last week:
“You are invited to my birthday party. I’m not having one. But you are invited.”
This is my starting point. This blog, and thus, my life, is exactly that from now on: an invisible, non-existent, hypothetical, metaphorical, (Frozen-themed obvs), party.
And you are all invited.
Until next time.
Also, there might not be a next time – it depends if I suddenly get shy.
Also, if I know you and you’ve read this, just forget I ever said anything.
Also, you can delete these if it gets too much, right? xxxxxx