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