Goodbye Facebook, sort of.

A series of things all happened at once (or rather, over a period of 4 months). 

  • In August just past, I decided after a mind-altering summer, that when I grow up I want to be a proofreader. 
  • To be taken seriously as a professional in any field, you usually need a degree. So I wrote an essay and got into HU on an English undergraduate course. 
  • I realised that all of my post-pubescent life has been spent trying to woo certain people into loving me. I am, for the first time, free of lust for another being (besides Kate Mckinnon, because that woman fucking hypnotizes me). The quest for love has come crashing down from the peak of the priority pedestal and is now somewhere beween the likes of ‘Buy a new hair brush’ and ‘Try getting that weird stain out of the carpet’.
  • I turned 24 and realised that my best friend is Facebook. I pledged that I was abandoning said best friend in an attempt to free up more time for real life.
  • I moved out of my mother’s house for the second time in 5 years. I now live in an affectionate and creative Swedish household, and regularly find myself being headbutted by nice cats. Here I am called Jam because there’s already a Sam and I was late to the party.
  • Saying goodbye to Facebook has been tough. I posted nonsense on almost a daily basis for 8 years; this re-flying of the nest would have been spread all over my wall like a rash. We were told about how keeping a blog can aid reflective learning in study skills the other day, and so to allow me to rant and waffle when I need it, and even to perhaps help me remember the things I learn at uni (memory span of a goldfish with Alzheimer’s), I am starting a blog.

And here it is, in all its mundane glory. Soak it in, Sam of the future, and anybody else who is bored or lost enough to be reading. 


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