Sometimes, I make terrible life choices.
Sometimes I’m sitting in my room, well aware of the ticking clock dragging me inexorably towards the deadline for this essay, which has been weighing on me for several days, and I think, “You know what I need? Business cards.” And then I go to Vistaprint, design a load of business cards (without even bothering to check if I’ve recently had any vouchers through — probably a mistake), and order them.
Because sometimes, you know, you just have to make life choices like that.
There was actually a decent reason why I suddenly decided I needed business cards, which was that a friend read a couple of my poems at a poetry event (with my permission), and when discussing with him the likelihood of anybody buying the collection afterwards, I figured people are a lot more likely to follow up on something if they’ve got a physical reminder. A little piece of card with a snazzy typewriter and my website URL is a nice little memory-jog for anyone who might otherwise forget that they were planning to give me money in exchange for words.
And given that I am a poor student with a broken harp string that needs replacing, every person who is reminded of that and follows through on it is funding my existence, so…
Actually, I think I’m being kind of unfair to myself here. Buying business cards as a snap decision may not be the most sensible thing I’ve done in the last few days, but I’ve achieved some fairly significant milestones. I have been Adulting. And fairly successfully, I reckon.
File under: Miriam is a successful adult
I had an issue with my bank account, which I resolved myself, by contacting customer services and talking to them on the phone. I even managed to get the bank to pay for the call so that the extortionate 0845 number didn’t get applied to my mobile bill, and now my account works fine and has a little less money in it because hey, business cards.
I had a moment of pride on realising I had, in fact, eaten five portions of vegetables today. I rarely get my five-a-day (being allergic to fruit makes it tricky), but today I did. And I am very proud of that fact.
I wrote an essay. I think I’ve finished it now — at least, I wrote a conclusion, which isn’t the same thing at all. I need to write the bibliography, and proof-read it, and generally make sure it makes sense. Then re-format it, because it doesn’t currently comply with the stylesheet, and submit it. But. I wrote an essay.
I went food shopping and bought unfamiliar things like ready meals! Okay, that’s not a very Adult thing to do. That’s very much a Student Who Cannot Cook thing, or in my case, a Student Who Would Cook But Does Not Have An Oven thing. Nevertheless, I went to Sainsbury’s and I bought the food that was on offer and I bought some cling film. My mother would be proud of me.
I vacuumed my room. And here’s where Adulting abruptly falls off the scales. Because, you see, while I’m fine with vacuuming my floor, I’m not fine with vacuuming up the Massive Spider City under my table. I am terrified of spiders. So, I bribed a friend with cookies to come and vacuum the spiders for me, and that was totally a legit Adult thing to do. Except when you’re Adulting, they call it delegation.
Look, I can use your fancy words too. Ner ner ner.
File under: Miriam is definitely not an adult please come and feed her
Intending to write my essay yesterday and planning my day accordingly was all very well, except that I had a bit of a breakdown and fell asleep for almost the entire afternoon, then spent much of the evening crying and Skyping my mum. I’m pretty sure every Fresher has one of those “I want my mummy” breakdowns, though. At least, I’m hoping they do, and it’s not just me… Yet, no matter how commonplace, I’m pretty sure that doesn’t count as Adulting.
Freaking out when Hamlet! The Musical was taken off Spotify was also not very Adult, and nor was my panicked email to the producers of the show. I’m pretty sure my reaction when the CD I bought from them arrived in the post could be safely described as “childlike glee”, too.
And finally, sitting here trying to eat caramel chocolate without getting caramel all over my fingers is both a fruitless and delicious task which many would say was not Adult behaviour because of course, Adults are too restrained to randomly eat chocolate whenever they feel like it even though they’ve already had Jaffa cakes this evening. But the evidence from the internet and my siblings and every real Adult ever suggests that isn’t the case. Maybe that’s the most Adult thing of all: knowing that I have chocolate, and I can eat it, and there’s nobody at all who can stop me.
MUAH HA HA HA HA.
Friendly reminder that by buying my poetry, you fund my continued Adulting and general happiness!
Please somebody stop me eating chocolate as I have eaten too much and now I feel unwell.
Maybe chocolate is not adulting. Maybe I need help.
A last, quick announcement to say that I had a remark through for one of my A2 Classics papers and it went up by five marks, placing me firmly in the A* territory where my teachers had expected/hoped I’d be in the first place! That gives me a total of A*A*AB in my A-Levels, which is delightful.