About time...

So after much deliberation of titles, format and subject I have decided it is about time to start a so called web log. The cliche of actions speaking louder than words comes to mind after years of talking of my ambition of becoming a writer, suddenly stopping the moment I handed in my dissertation with the relief that the last three years, although the best of my life had come to an end. University now over and into the the reality of shitty jobs to get by and not quite wanting to give up on the lifestyle that comes with spending thousands on a degree I am currently finding difficult to use.

Now the real world. Grown up, as my friends and I joke, as I have left the bubble that was Chester and up and moved to Manchester. On my own. The last six weeks have been adventurous to say the least, moving to a city that I had been to around five times in my whole life some may say is stupid. Me on the otherhand, likes the risk, the fear almost pushing me into being more responsible than my friends who have moved back home.

First on the list. Job. The first one lasted all of three weeks due to the unwelcoming staff whose ambitions seemed achieved the moment they walked into the call centre. Four years of calling the same people, day in, day out, is not only boring but lacks the fulfilment we are all promised by furthering our education. I can pretend to like anyone. The fake smile was mastered before I could walk, but never in my life have I been made to feel bad about myself for wanting better. See ya.
I am now two weeks into another call centre job, boring as one expects but it will pay the bills for now and my colleagues seem decent. Helpful not only with getting me familiar with the new systems, but actually starting conversations that are worthy of my time. The manager Chris, has ridiculously tiny hands and what I call Ken hair. I'm not sure whether it is his own but until I have been there a while I feel it is inappropriate to ask him this question. I've asked around and the results are inconclusive. Regardless of my opinion of his hands and hair, he has welcomed me and the other new starters into his team, more than the first job even tried to do.

Flat. After bumming around my friend Becky's for 2 weeks and numerous flat viewings, which included a 1 bed that although decent inside I was sure to get attacked in the day in this area. Nevermind stumbling back drunk after a night out. I have finally found somewhere I can call home. For now. Never in my life did I think shopping in Ikea would be a highlight, but choosing what colour the kitchen bin, drainer and washing up bowl would be, amongst other things, gave me a proud feeling. This was something I was actually doing on my own. No Rachel (my twin sister) and Rochelle who had to decide together what colour we wanted our room to be, or what channels we wanted to watch. Strictly me. Three weeks in and its not scary like I assumed. Yes, I look out the window sometimes to check that my cars still there, after all its Salford I'm in, but so far so good.

Ambition. Now it's time to get settled, make more than the two friends I already have here and continue to chase that dream. To write and get paid for it. This blog is the start of that. My opinions on.... well we'll see.