Wednesday, 17 June 2015

Reasons Why I Can't Adult, Starring the Fabulous Jess Nolan.

Fond of writing, blogging and baking Jess is pretty much the weirdest human being you will ever meet. If you would like to experience her weirdness first hand, visit her blog, Mirth Box, and let her know you visited. She's sure to greet you in the creepiest manner possible. 

Hello there new friends. Or maybe old friends. You know, if you read my blog. Now…I’m going to be honest. I’ve never guest posted before (I KNOW RIGHT I’M SO WISE) and therefore I’m a little nervous. I’m away from home (the Mirth Box) and I’m visiting this new home (this gorgeous blog) and even though it’s pretty and it smells nice and there are cookies, I am still feeling a little edge.

But not on edge enough for spontaneous bowel evacuation. That’s weird…

Anyway, I’m probably not the best person to ask about being an adult. I mean, I’m nineteen so technically speaking I am an adult (by law at least…not in terms of my mental capacity or anything) and so here are some reasons for why I find myself unable to ‘adult’.

Yes. I used the word ‘adult’ as a verb.  I think.

I can pick when I go to bed…
…and this freaks me out. Like, it’s probably the smallest of responsibilities. One I was quite eager to take charge of when I was four.

Me at four years old: ‘I don’t wanna go to bed. I don’t wannnaaaa’
My parents: ‘Jess. You have to go to sleep. Die Hard isn’t appropriate for four year olds. I am taking you up to bed and you will go to sleep’
Me at four years old: ‘Hoe, don’t do it’
My parents: *Makes me go to bed*
Me at four years old: ‘Oh my god’.

Ok. So maybe it didn’t happen like that. But still. A bedtime routine is a little too much for me to handle at this point. I just can’t handle it. I JUST CAN’T EVEN.

I have a debit card, but I don’t use it to pay for stuff…
…I prefer to withdraw cash. I’m a total weirdo. Seriously. I mean, besides the fact that where I live, most cash machines don’t work and are in a constant state of hibernation. But still. You would think that when I go through the self-checkouts at work I would use my card. But nope. There’s me. Tongue out in total concentration. Poking around my purse for a ten pence piece to make sure I give the exact change.

I mean, I guess I’m good there.

I don’t have an alarm in the mornings
I am under the impression that most responsible people who are able to adult in a normal way have an alarm (and also eat sushi regularly and drink green tea and don’t shriek at the sight of spiders). But I don’t. I mean, I have about two set (that’s a lie, there are nine) all ranging from 5:30 AM to 8:00AM with the most stupid names. The best of which are:

Get up you dirty stinking leper. Sweet baby Jesus, Becky wants to get up!




Get up, lazy

See? WHOLE lotta weird.

I don’t fulfil wishes for the day
If I was a Sim, I wouldn’t be very happy. Because Sims get happiness from completing wishes.

Do you know NOTHING?

But still. I will wake up, maybe on a day off or maybe where I’m on a 2-10 shift and I’ll be like: Today I want to write some blog posts, maybe add to the chapter I’m working on, organise my wardrobe (again), make cookies, shower, maybe exercise for a while, read…

Um. No. Usually, what happens is none of that. I am a stinky, sedentary, talentless imbecile craving cookies and internetting for five hours straight. I feel very unfulfilled.   

But at least I got to look at pictures of cats.

I cycle everywhere
This is probably because I haven’t passed my driving test. But seriously. I really dislike walking. Not to the point where if I have to pee, I will wet myself before walking to the loo. But I just mean that I hate walking to work. I would rather cycle. So my hair gets all messy and I probably end up getting really stinky.

That’s not true though…well, not completely anyway.

I can say no to stuff I don’t want to do…
But I usually just say yes. Maybe I just have an uncontrollable urge to please people. Maybe I am a pushover (DON’T CALL ME A PUSHOVER!). Maybe there is just something wrong with that slither of gunky stuff that sits in my head (I like to call it my brain, if you’re interested).

But as an adult if I don’t want to do something, technically speaking I don’t have to. Don’t wanna clean my room?

Don’t got to.

Don’t wanna eat something healthy for dinner (as opposed to cake).

Nah, it’s a free country. Eat cake.

Don’t wanna wear pants?

You don’t have to…but it’s advisable.

But I end up doing all of these things in a normal way. Because I say yes. Because I am silly.

Ok. Dribble post over. I apologise for the rant-like nature of it. I can’t help it. I see lots of people on a daily basis being a normal adult and doing all of the things that make me feel weird. But I can’t do it myself. I am incapable.

Becoming an adult should come with a warning:

Warning: Adulthood is approaching. You will be granted permission to do anything you would like (pretty much). However, it’s very much like being hurled from a cannon at twelve thousand miles per hour till you begin burning up and then remember you have no parachute and you’re pretty much falling with no safety net and it’s scary. Therefore, it’s advisable that you:

#1 wear pants and socks
#2 eat food
#3 don’t cry too much

Ok I am definitely off now. It’s ok Mirth Box. I’M COMING HOME BABY.

Lots of love and leaves. Thanks for listening to me.