Nostalgia and Tangents

I've always been brought up with literature, so every night, either my mum or dad would perch on the edge of my bed, crushing my leg as they did so, and read me a story. It's funny how I can still remember the names of each book like; 'Pass the Jam, Jim', 'Charlie's Bucketful of Dinosaurs' and 'Guess How Much I Love You'. And recently, whilst in the process of moving out of my family home and rummaging through our murky loft in search for suitcases, I came across a box. This box was full to the brim with old nursery rhyme collections and mouldy bedtime stories. So instead of packing, I reclined into a habitual state of procrastination and instead began skimming through the faded pages of my childhood.

As I read, the response might be as expected - an overwhelming sadness and not-yet-decided-on resignation to the fact that I'm now an adult, an adult who's moving away from her parents who used to crush her leg and read her bedtime stories. The act of me re-reading these books seemed to change the atmosphere in the room, and not by the asbestos particles that were probably seeping into my lungs every time I turned a page, but by pure nostalgia that was bleeding through every line, every obvious rhyme, every cracked spine. (I didn't intend for that to rhyme itself but hey, I'm a natural, what can I say? #sarcasm)

Obviously, by osmosis, when my mum saw me weeping over the books she began to weep over me weeping over the books and then the dog saw us and started to cry too and it was just a horrible, horrible mess of 'please ring me's and 'please don't forget to eat properly's and 'please don't forget about me's. Like, you're my mother, you gave birth to me, I still panic if I lose you in ASDA, I'm not going to wake up one morning and be like 'who's this strange woman who I've got thirty-three missed calls and twenty-seven un-opened texts from?'

Well, this went off on a weird tangent. One paragraph of me actually talking about what I should've been talking about and the rest of it utter rubbish. This will soon turn into a pattern of becoming everything I write about.At least I can add this to my list of three goals I've been asked to write about by my tutor at uni, which brings it up to grand total of two out of three.

#goals
1.) To get used to the change in essay structure and freedom within my writing, and also within my course and university as a whole.
2.) Don't ramble and go off on weird tangents within my writing - it doesn't help with the already-weird vibes you give off.
3.) IOU a third goal.

The Bags Under my Eyes are Counterfit

So Last Saturday I moved out. It's been six days. I hate it already. I mean, the parties are good when I go to them, the people are really nice (most of them) and the room isn't falling apart around me, so I guess I'm alright. Not a fan of the lack of sleep or the actual effort it takes to feed myself now, but it's all about that uni experience right? *cries through Nutella-covered fingers* And freshers doesn't even officially start until next week, we're technically in 'pre-freshers' right now, so it's practically freshers just a lot less organised and a lot more shitty music blaring from the flats above me. Listen, right, I'm fine with the music, but why is it SO shit? Where is the Smash Mouth??

I don't officially start my course until the 28th, so that's twelve more days until I have an excuse to show my true colours and de-evolve back into my sociopathic introvert cocoon. There are so many things stressing me out at the moment, and these two weeks are supposed be the most chill time of my life but I don't see that happening. So here's a list of twelve shitty things that're happening in my
newly-found independent life right now.

1.) I'm tired as fuck

2.) My maintenance loan doesn't come through for another week or so
3.) Yesterday I spent £84 on a bus pass
4.) Yesterday I spent two and a half hours on a bus, needing to pee the whole way there
5.) I just had to spend over £200 on books that only equate to half of this years' studies
6.) I don't have enough personal inspiration to actually get up before midday
7.) I don't have enough personal inspiration to actually make myself something to eat that doesn't come out of a packet
8.) I've gained at least 3lbps in the last six days
9.) I'm running out of toilet roll
10.) My Spotify account cancelled itself today because there's not enough money in the bank
11.) I brought 40 DVDs to uni to play on my laptop, and my laptop doesn't have a DVD player in it
12.) Sometimes I really need to pee first thing in the morning but I'm always too lazy to get up, so by the time I'm 65 I'm probably gonna be pissing myself on the daily

Short and bitter but I legitimately nearly fell asleep while typing this.

R.

Don't Look Back in Anger

I just spent a good hour scrolling back through all my old blog post and internally screaming as I scan over all the horrible puns and awkward writing. I mean, I still use horrible puns and write awkwardly, but slightly less so now. And all of these cringe-worthy posts were only written a year ago, so I guess I just have to thank A-Level English for digging me out of the cesspit that was 17-year-old Rebecca's writing style.

But I'm not deleting any of these old posts, because they are all something I remember putting a considerable amount of effort into at the time. Although you wouldn't think it, looking at all the horrendously obvious grammar and spelling mistakes that I completely overlooked and/or couldn't be bothered changing. So I'm not deleting them, because I always think you should embrace the shitty and embarrassing moments and, mostly for me, phases of your life because that's what made you who you are today. (Exhibits a, b, c, d and e:)

Honestly look at me, wasn't I precious? I now find beaches, bowling alleys, Oompa Loompas (if you couldn't tell, that's what I was meant to be), bow ties and Quavers mentally harrowing. I mean, the fashion choices. If anyone, I should thank my parents for being so supportive of me and letting their child actually leave the house looking like that. Look at those highlights, I look like a fucking Werthers Original. And yeah, ok, I actually suited the ginger hair because I am seriously lacking some melanin, but somebody should've sat me down, and taught me how to master the messy bun. Because whatever the look was what I was trying to go for, that definitely wasn't it.

I didn't mean for this to turn into a roast yourself challenge - I don't know whether I feel better or worse for it. Anyway, the moral is, I've forgotten what the moral is. Embrace your shit? No, don't actually embrace your shit, that could lead to some considerable health problems. See, back at it again with the bad puns. I honestly can't stop, I'm making myself cringe. Ok, I'll just crawl back into my metaphorical hole.

I'm probably going to live to regret putting these pictures on the internet. Now would be the right time to say 'yolo' but I don't hate myself that much.

R.