Name in Lights

So how does it feel to be a hot-of-the-press journalist? Amazing.
Ok so perhaps hot-of-the-press isn't the best way to describe a half a page spread, page 10, in the South Wales Echo, but as Armstrong said 'it's one small step for man, one giant leap for...' well me actually. And so what I rang/text as many people I knew to go out and buy it? I wanted to share my excitement with everyone, even the mustache-man at the newspaper stand who I'd met for about 5 mins. I appreciated his congratulations, even if he repulses me slightly.

There is something about the sun shining that makes everything seem brighter. You can stroll along, head held high...strutting, slightly. It's been one of those days where you're wearing an enormous grin on your face and you don't care if you look a tiny bit insane. I'm always a little conscious when I'm walking along that I look like I have the world on my shoulders. The main reason for this was when I was wondering along, feeling slightly sorry for myself because it was raining and my shoes were disintegrating, and a Big Issue seller shouted to me 'Cheer up love, it can't be all bad'. What do you say? I mean actually? Apart from putting things in perspective, in that moment I felt completely exposed. The question which hung over me the whole way home was, "Do I look like a miserable sod when I go solo?". A friendly smile is definitely the way forward, unless you're getting approached by the Phones4U man, then it's best to look at the floor.

I keep being faced with the question "So what do you want to go onto do after uni?". It's normally asked by people already stuck in job titles they hate who ask me this, oh and obviously my parents. Exempt my parents, I think people ask me because they somehow want to stamp on my student life. The lie ins, the endless partying, the no interest over draft, they feel the need to put a stop to the secret student world I live in by asking me the one question I dread the most. I stutter, I ummm, I ahhh and then finally "well, I'm not quite sure yet". My response? A raised eyebrow, a slight snarl and if everything was silent I think I'd hear a 'tut'. This isn't because they care what I'm going to do after uni, I doubt they'd loose sleep over the mountain of debt, or my lack of career direction. No. They want to justify to themselves that their life is somewhat better. It does, however, start a cold sweat for me. I begin panicking, and then instead of my usual time of the month chocolate ice-cream binge, I begin my 'work-experience binge'. This involves frantically applying to anything and everything which is out there in a hope to kick some direction into my life.

A product of my 'work-experience binge'? My name in lights (well print, but who's being picky?). Now thats better than adding 2 inches to the waist, which would have been a result of a Ben & Jerrys binge. So perhaps the anxiety of what I'll do with my life produces good results? It kick starts me into action as well as getting me smiling stupidly all day.

Until my next thought...

Hannah xx