So you’re 23… unemployed… and completely clueless as to what to do with your life… or at least I am.
I recently moved home to Co. Donegal, Ireland. After a year in London and five years in Dublin, somehow sleeping in my childhood bed feels strange. When I first decided to move home, in hopes of saving some money while I look for a “big-girl” job, I had envisioned catching up with friends from my school days, going to the beach or up to the mountains as often as I could, running everyday and eating my mothers cooking… I had not imagined that after 11 days living at home I would be so restless already… cooking all the time, and doing more cleaning that humanly possible! Not to mention I have not met a single one of my school pals, or been to the beach or the mountains. I have been for a run… full 10 km… and despite being a little out of shape managed a new personal best.
What I really wasn’t expecting after this week and a half is the amount of arguments (disagreements, really) that I’ve had with mum… over money (or lack there of), a real job (again, no sign of that either) and what my mother calls my lack of direction… and this is how we have come to be here today! This blog has been a long time in coming, really. I was planing on writing one when I moved to London, but between training and my final year in Uni the thought never caught on. But now that I have more time than I know what to do with, I thought I would enlighten the lovely folks here on the Internets with my shockingly bad grammar, language that would make a drunken sailor feel right at home and my constant whinging about not knowing what to do with my life.
And even though I am just itching to get my own place and a job (shocking, I know but I actually love working), I am glad of the fresh (if a little damp) Irish air and the beautiful scenery that I am surrounded with… even if it is in the arse end of nowhere!