I'm not a bad person, I just make bad decisions

Before we get off on the wrong foot, I'd like to point out that when I say bad decisions, I'm not talking about cheating on anyone or stabbing random civilians, or you know, throwing up on a police man or anything. My life is not quite as eventful as Grand Theft Auto, sadly.

Statistically speaking (because you know how I like to ensure I have my facts straight before yelling my views across the internet), a good 98.7 per cent of my life choices are abysmal. I mean, it's shocking. Only, I never realise until it's a little too late. Take that time in year ten when I allowed my hairdresser to cut my hair shorter than shoulder length and I ended up refusing to go back to school the next day because I was unable to stop my hysterical tears over how awful it looked. My friends told me it looked "really nice", but everyone knows that it's written into the friendship bible that they tell me it looks good; but truthfully, I'm unsure whether their words were sincere even now. Or that time in December 2011 when I decided to mix up my skincare routine and tried out some new Neutrogena face wipes and then woke up the next day with a melted face. Nope, I'm not even exaggerating. My face was literally melting. And huge. And kind of weird and warpy. Allergic reactions are surprisingly unenjoyable, but it provided my sister with hours of entertainment so at least someone had fun.

They say that the greatest mistake you'll ever make is being too afraid to make one. Which frankly, I find to be total crap. I'm terrified of making mistakes, yet I still seem to make them anyway. Don't even get me started on the summer evening I was in the shower completely unaware that a) the tune I was blissfully belting out was a Will Young classic or b) that the bathroom window was wide open and all the neighbourhood kids heard every single (off-key) word. I haven't mustered the courage to look any of them in the eye since.

I mean, we all know about my candle debacle, and I constantly grimace about how rarely I shave my legs (who has the energy to be sexy all the time?), but mostly, it's my mouth that gets me into the worst trouble. Shocker! I kind of, how can I put this, 'speak first, think way way later'. And in-keeping with this theme, it has come to my attention that my mum has been following my blog for a fair while. Gulp. There's no explaining my way out of my extensive profanity usage or admitting to sharing a bed with boys. Ooops. Does this mean that when I next return home I should anticipate finding my clothes with red 'A's sewn onto them? I'm sure we can all agree that I'm really terrible at making good choices. Or, really good at making terrible choices, if you will - let's try and put a positive spin on this...

Lately though, my bad decisions have revolved around: hanging out with people I shouldn't, expressing my upset towards people I dislike via Facebook, and opening Snapchats from my friends showing me they've just joined the gym, whilst I'm in bed scoffing Cadbury's Chocolate Fingers. It's just one big vicious circle, isn't it?

~ Eleanor xo

Fourty long overdue apologies

At nineteen years old (yes, really, I'm that many years old - I know you had no idea because I never talk about it...), I have racked up a worryingly large amount of regrets. From buying flared jeans in the peak of my childhood, to becoming addicted to the Sims 2 and butchering my family's laptop in the process, my repertoire is overflowing with "oh good God" moments. But let's be honest, what life is complete without a healthy dose of regret with a side order of self-hatred? We all need things that keep us up at night, that we can over-think while staring out of a car window with one of Adele's songs blaring through our headphones, and that really do warrant a dramatic re-enactment of our favourite rom-com break-up scene.

So I've been thinking, what am I sorry for? After much careful consideration and general "why the hell did I even do that? Eleanor you are a total twat", I have compiled a list of fourty incidents I feel I need to apologise to the world for (because face-to-face apologies are so two-thousand-and-late). And if you're reading the list and think a certain point is about you, well, it probably isn't - don't be so cocky. Ha, no I'm joking, it most likely is.

So without further ado: a bucket full of soz for (being the worst human being ever) and...

1. I am sorry that I can't pay my rent by myself
2. I am sorry that I have no self control when I'm in Zara
3. I am sorry for the times you haven't been able to check your email because I've been streaming crappy American television shows
4. I am sorry for fantasizing about pushing you down the stairs after I learnt that you'd eaten my Nutella without asking. *twitches*
5. I am sorry for accidentally setting that oven glove on fire
6. I am sorry for not texting you my whereabouts and causing you to think I had crashed my car and was in a ditch
7. I am sorry for telling you to "fuck off" on the one night of the year I should've done the exact opposite
8. I am sorry for all the times I've broken the shower. I've lost count of how many times it is now...
9. I am sorry that I use 'swag' as an adjective
10. I am sorry I let you pass out on the floor... whilst I fell asleep in your bed
11. I am sorry I laughed at your misfortune. But hey, karma's a bitch and so am I.
12. I am sorry for constantly borrowing your DVDs without asking
13. I am sorry I always fish for compliments. And I'm even more sorry that you've figured out that I do that.
14. I am sorry that I turn into Miley Cyrus when I'm drunk. And that my tongue has a mind of its own in pictures.
15. I am sorry for spilling the liquid soap in your bathroom. And for only now telling you.
16. I am sorry for smashing one of your plant pots with my car
17. I am sorry for crying for fucking hours and covering you (and everything you own) in mascara. That was so not cool and I deeply regret it.
18. I am sorry I enjoyed your sexting scandal. You did kind of deserve it though. Soz.
19. I am sorry for starting that fight about your ex. And that it lasted three days. I understand your side now.
20. I am sorry I tripped on my pajamas and ended up breaking your textiles coursework
21. I am sorry for breaking your heart after you spent £40 on sending me a bouquet of flowers on Valentines Day. And that you stopped talking to me a year later. Prick.
22. I am sorry for always being late
23. I am sorry for being "a tiny bit over-dramatic"
24. I am sorry that you're all so jealous of me. But I can't help it that I'm popular. Wait, no, that's a line from 'Mean Girls'.
25. I am sorry for getting a nose bleed while we were making out
26. I am sorry for getting rib pain while we were making out. Multiple times.
27. I am sorry that both of those things happened on the same weekend
28. I am sorry that my handwriting is worse than that of a 5 year old child
29. I am sorry for almost running a red light on my way to see you... I'm just generally sorry that I am such an abysmal driver.
30. I am sorry for swearing so fucking much... Ah, man.
31. I am sorry for not always texting back (or replying to snapchats) and being unable to control my use of emojis
32. I am sorry that my appalling taste in music affected you so much
33. I am sorry for always stealing the duvet
34. I am sorry for asking if you would "like me for dessert" whilst we were in a crowded restaurant... and for being unable to keep a straight face as I did so
35. I am sorry that near enough all my clothing has a chocolate stain on it
36. I am sorry I played bejeweled while we were in bed. And that you fell asleep because of it. (I got a high score though, so all was not lost!)
37. I am sorry for always shooting down all the nice things you say to me. I get nervous, ok!
38. I am sorry I still fantasize about one day getting my own break-up scene like the one in 'A Cinderella Story'. But it is so freaking dramatic.
39. I am sorry that I am so pessimistic about everything. "The glass is always completely full of tears".
40. And most importantly, I am sorry that I took a break whilst writing this post to stand on my bed and mime along to 'Let it Go' by Demi Lovato. And that I consequently almost fell off and broke my neck with the force of my air grabs.

So, can you forgive me?

~ Eleanor xo

The realisation that I shouldn't be left alone

I came up with this post idea whilst mustering all the strength in my five foot seven inch body in an attempt to reach the pack of Cadbury's chocolate fingers perched precariously on the edge of my desk - whilst still lying face down on my bed. I had an epiphany of sorts, a kind of "Eleanor, look at yourself. Look at your life, what on earth are you doing? And more importantly, why are you wearing Christmas socks in January!?" experience. I did manage to retrieve the box, but I'm really not flexible enough for all this stretching - I definitely think I just sprained some kind of ligament in my rib-area. You can tell I was a truly gifted biology student.

Ok, so now that I've consumed at least fifty per cent of the just opened box of chocolates, we can begin. Currently, you're all up to speed on how, at nineteen, I'm already certain that my career is failing. But today, my majestic chums, I am unsure whether I'll be able to survive long enough to even see my twentieth birthday. Why exactly? Because, to put it mildly, I am a tiny defenseless naive kitten with very little knowledge about anything.

To put this truly surprising revelation into perspective, earlier this week I found myself in an unforeseen predicament. Long story short, I spent a good ten minutes with my arm hanging out of a window, grasping a smoldering candle. Why, you ask? Because, earlier that day I'd taken a leap of faith and decided that I was responsible enough to buy and look after a Yankee Candle (here is an instagram image posted only hours before the harrowing event). Whilst burning, the candle fills the air with the scent of 'fluffy towels', which is most satisfying, only, when you blow it out, it emits more smoke than that of a nightclub smoke machine. Naturally, this threw me into a complete panic because my bedroom has its own smoke detector and I knew I had only a matter of minutes to get this situation under control... so I swept everything off my windowsill, threw open the window and with wet wax sloshing all over the place, thrust the jar into the night air. So smooth.  

Once I finally realised how incredibly ridiculous this entire situation was (I was still holding the candle outside at this point), I whispered down the phone to my boyfriend, "please don't ever let me live alone". As I described my predicament, and how utterly laughable it was, he replied with, "Oh god, who gave a candle to the pyromaniac?" And he's right, of course. I am a true fire risk. And then some.

Other evidence I shouldn't live alone:
1. I almost set my Halls kitchen on fire whilst cooking sausages last year
2. When the batteries in my toothbrush ran out, I had to brush my teeth without them for several weeks because I kept forgetting to buy more. (The same happened with my TV remote).
3. Generally, I can't cook. I just can't. And I don't think it's a good idea to live on a student diet for the rest of my life...
4. Not that good with a washing machine. I know that if you put a red sock in with your white clothes, bad things happen - I learnt that from a Simpsons episode.
5. I constantly lose my keys. Which are pretty important... And nobody wants to have a locksmith on their speed-dial, do they?
6. I'm not very good with money. Currently, my dad helps me keep track of my (dwindling) finances, but when I have a mortgage to pay, I have a feeling I'll need someone around to cut up my credit card if necessary
7. I AM ALWAYS LATE. It's not my fault, I swear! If I'm going somewhere with someone else, I am punctual, but without them, your guess is as good as mine (once, I turned up 50 minutes late...ooops)
8. When the light bulb in my university bedroom blew, I had to illuminate my life with fairy lights for weeks before my dad gave me new light bulbs and carefully instructed me on how to change them myself. He made sure to remind me to check the light switch was off before touching anything. Thank god.
9. I have absolutely no idea how to make tea. My mum keeps trying to teach me but it's yet to stick...

Sadly (and worryingly), there are so many more reasons as to why it's borderline dangerous for me to be alone. You never know what you'll find if you leave me unsupervised; I could paint a mural on the wall in your living room, or I could burn it to the ground whilst trying to make pancakes. But as I've often pointed out, that's half my charm...

~ Eleanor xo

{This post is dedicated to a dear member of my family who sadly passed away on Monday; you are forever in my heart, and I will miss you greatly}

Why I'm fairly sure my career will never take off

Now, I know you all believe that I am practically the human embodiment of perfection, but today I found myself wondering if this really is the case. When an uber-hipster with a loud shirt gives a presentation on his experience of the world of work and how he got to where he is (one sexually provocative banned Panasonic advert and, i'm presuming, an entire wardrobe stocked with geometrically colourful clothes), you can't help but question everything about yourself. He kindly informed us all that when employers are looking at you, they don't care for degrees or skillsets, they care about who you are as a person and, wait for it, your hobbies and interests. Ummm.

Hobbies and interests. HOBBIES AND INTERESTS?! I have no hobbies or interests. Actually, that's not true, some 'interests' that come to mind include: tweeting my embarrassing moments, eating my own body weight in Cadbury's Chocolate Fingers, wearing socks with holes in them, playing bejeweled, live-streaming Pretty Little Liars at 1am, being charmingly modest and providing ongoing comic relief for my friends, instagramming every restaurant meal before I consume it, impersonating Taylor Swift, wasting my student loan at Starbucks, getting snapchats labelled 'spawn of satan' from my sister after staying out all night without telling anyone, tripping over things, swearing (I really need to stop that), having nervous breakdowns about my future, getting blisters from new shoes, waking up with yesterdays make-up smeared across my face, avoiding physical exercise, and (perhaps most crucially), procrastinating.

So you see, that's all I have to offer the world! I don't cook, I can't ski, I'm not a photographer (like most people claim to be), I've never attempted to fight a great white shark, and disappointingly, I've never had the opportunity to save someones life. I can't even keep a Sim family alive without using cheats anymore! I'm nineteen, this really is not going well. I mean seriously, there are kids out there infiltrating the FBI website and starring in Hollywood movies, yet my greatest achievement of the last few months is managing not to kill my pet cactus. Instead of being out there saving white tigers or freeing slaves, I am sat here, wearing pajamas with owls printed on them and a hooded Hollister sweatshirt that frankly makes me look like a yob (my sister has pointed this out more than once), having what can only be described as a severe existential crisis.

You see, this is why I'll end up curled up in a hole all alone, with one outfit and three pence to my name. Because I am a truly horrendously pathetically boring excuse for a human being and if we're being honest: peeps do not dig that.

Now pretend you and I are out in a rainstorm, picture it as if we're part of a fantastic Hollywood rom-com starring Julia Roberts, it's dark and cold, there are only streetlights and the faint purr of someones Porsche in the distance, and I look up at the sky and begin to yell "tell me, advertising industry people, WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME, WHO AM I SUPPOSED TO BE?!"

What's the answer? What do you think I am? (besides totally crazy for yelling at the sky, obviously)

~ Eleanor xo

My New Years Resolutions: 2014

It's that time of year again where everyone begins to consider their most annoying traits, habits and unwanted body weight, and attempts to convince themselves that this can be rectified by the chime of a clock. I however, am not very gifted with a) making good resolutions or b) remembering that I made them. It's usually around March time that I suddenly realise I'm supposed to be, in the case of 2010, spending less time online, or like 2007, not talking about people behind their backs (ok, don't judge. We've all been there...)

It's been 52 weeks since fireworks illuminated the London skyline and Big Ben proudly announced it was 2013, and I'm struggling to recall if I actually made any resolutions. If I did, they were probably along the lines of "don't be so over-dramatic" or "stop being so bitchy", which, to put it mildly, didn't quite happen. Still, my main aim was to make 2013 an amazing year, and in hindsight, it really was. I settled into university life, made some amazing new friends, got brilliant grades and found myself in the relationship pool once or twice - muchos exciting.

Cliche as it sounds, and as much as I hate to admit it, I have truly found myself this year. Sure, it's been hella difficult (a technical term) at times, but isn't that half the fun of life? How can you appreciate true happiness if you do not experience sadness? - pretty deep, I know. If you ever find yourself writing an essay on the subject, feel free to quote me if you so wish. 

So what about 2014? Well, this year I'll find myself turning 20 (oh god, how is that possible) and provided I work my arse off, beginning my final year of university. Me, a girl who still laughs at immature sexual jokes and watches High School Musical on a regular basis, an adult? This can only go well...

Eleanor's 2014 Resolutions:
1) Take fewer things for granted 
Like my youthful complexion and tight ass. Ha, no I'm totally kidding. I'm referring to meaningful stuff like people and possessions and feelings and gross stuff like that.
2) Worry less
Never going to happen.
3) Don't focus on your weight or size, just eat well 
So basically, eat fewer biscuits. Again, never going to happen.
4) Mend broken bridges 
Obviously I am not referring to manual labour, I'm being all moving and metaphorically poetic.
5) Save money! 
How impossible!
6) Become more decisive 
Afriend suggested this to me and I think he has a point. Well, he might. I can't decide.

At least with written proof solidified on the internet (and with you, dear reader, as my witness), there is a chance that I may succeed. 'May' being the operative word, obviously. But, here's to the new me!.. Who will hopefully be less annoying than the last one. 

And so to you, my best pal (I'm gonna call you that because I feel like you are), I hope you entered 2014 thoroughly drunk (only if you're over 18, of course; I do not condone underage drinking at all...) and kissed someone at midnight who thinks you're wonderful; or you know, who had a great rack, whichever. 

Good luck in 2014, and as you more than likely pointed out in a Facebook status, this is definitely gonna be your year.

Happy new year!
~ Eleanor xo