Here’s to Actual Life



One of my most used phrases is ‘what is life?’ Usually this would be in reference to a ridiculous occurrence or revelation brought on by deep chats. Yet I now find myself using it in the sense of pondering over when I can call myself an actual real grown up type person. Up until this point in my life I’ve gone from education to frolicking around the world to random jobs and volunteer work. And now I’ve finally started my career in the charity sector and I have a real long term job with like responsibilities and stuff. So is this actual life?

If I looked at a week of my life on high speed mode I would probably see lots of standing on tubes (where I am now), sitting at desks crunching numbers and making phone calls, going for drinks and dinners and consuming all the foods and wines and cocktails, and lying on the sofa watching friends and Harry potter at the end of it all. And as exhausting as that sounds (and is), that basically is life working in London. Breaking life into segments makes every aspect of it appear imperative and exciting even if the overall picture is manic.

I’m not complaining, I absolutely love that I’m now doing something I enjoy rather than something that just serves the purpose of getting me out of bed and paying the bills. I get to use my brain, I get to apply my geography degree to a career that isn’t teaching or colouring in, and I’m allowed to put my passion for charity and travel into an actual job that I actually get paid for. I’ve also surprised myself in that I like working with young people when it was never something I aspired to. But they can be pretty cool and inspiring with all their keen zest for life and excitableness. I definitely sound like a grandma right now when I’m actually younger than some of them, but hey I’m allowed. I am a working woman hi.

My start on the career ladder may be an indicator of actual life, but my living situation definitely is not. There has been some progress, soon I get to move into my own room (yes ladies and gentleman, I am 24 years old and I still share a room), but said room is still in the parents house. All I can say is, saving money to move out in London is pretty damn hard when girl gotta buy all the holidays and festivals and cocktails and pretty summer clothes. And now I get to start pinteresting many many bohemian bedroom styles and buying hippie materials and everything with elephants.

I think we all get to the point where we realise that we have to stop waiting for life to start. This is life. These are the best years of our life, in fact. And if my life is defined by having a great job in Central London, drinking all the wines, and taking over my parents living room for dominos Sundays, then that’s a-okay.


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