Being an Adult; Big Change Edition

So, I think there’s a chance I might actually be becoming a proper adult. I know, I’m just as scared and surprised as you are. It’s just that recently, I’ve made a few changes that seem like very grown up decisions to the perpetual child in me. And perhaps it’s not an altogether bad thing.

The first change I made was taking out the piercing in my tongue. I’ve had my tongue pierced since I was about nineteen, and at the time I thought I was so cool…despite the fact that it took me two weeks to rid myself of the tongue swollen lisp; that was very much the opposite of cool. Anyway, I’d had that piercing in for the better part of five years and finally decided that the damage it could do to my teeth wasn’t worth the supposed ‘cool’ factor. It felt like a very adult choice, and I feel better for it. So does the dentist.

The second thing is that I’ve been branching out with my somewhat meagre cooking abilities. With my housemate in India for three weeks, I have carte blanche to make whatever I want, at whatever time I choose. Now admittedly, last night I did eat four hash browns for dinner because I’m a little broke after impulsively purchasing an electric guitar (ok, so maybe not a completely responsible adult just yet), but that doesn’t change the fact that some of my recent creations have been inspired. Zucchini slice, chicken soup, chilli…I’m no masterchef, but I’m certainly improving.

And the last and most significant change is the fact that I have once again started to apply for jobs. Now, Christmas is either the best or the absolute worst time to be hunting for alternative employment. But it is utterly essential for my mental health, and outlook on life. As I mentioned in my last post, they moved me into a new shop, and despite the fact that I tried to be positive about it, I was in tears three times in three days. That’s a pretty crap track record, and it has made me realise that no amount of money is worth my complete and endless misery. And anyway, the only reason I’m on such good money is because I’m working 51 hours a week, including all weekend. You’ve all heard me complain about it before, so I won’t go into it again, except to say that I need to make a change before I have a mental and emotional breakdown. And trust me, the way things have been going lately, I am well on my way.

So there you have it. Little old ‘adulthood is for losers’ Amy is finally on her way to becoming one. Gods help us all.

Amy and The 40c Gas Bill

I’ve always made a bit of a joke about not cooking. My dad and my brother, and my best friends all make that same joke. But it wasn’t until I received a gas bill for 40c that I realised exactly how slack I am in the kitchen.

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It’s not that I can’t cook. I can. I just prefer not to. This is partly to do with the fact that, despite my creativity with a pen or a sewing machine, I am completely lacking in the ability to decide on something to cook. The other part of the reason is that I am, to my detriment, ridiculously lazy. I know, it’s a terrible trait. But I get home, after spending my entire day in a noisy shopping centre, surrounded by screaming children and dealing with jerk customers, and the last thing I want to do is stress myself out in the kitchen.

My best friend loves to cook. He often tells me how he finds it calming. I’m the exact opposite. The minute I set foot in my kitchen, I get overwhelmed and stressed out and then nothing goes the way I planned. And, without word of a lie, I’ve cooked a whole bunch of times in the new house and not once have I managed to do so without setting off the smoke alarm. I guarantee my neighbours are always fully aware of every time I cook.

Still, my unwillingness to cook, and lack of any great ability in the kitchen does have a few merits. Firstly, I go around to my dad’s house most nights a week for dinner and that means I still get to chill and watch movies with him. Secondly, don’t make a lot of dishes! And then there’s that 40c gas bill. (honestly, how the hell does one get a gas bill that small?!)

I would make a terrible housewife. Sure, I can clean like a boss and I bake pretty well but when it comes to cooking? Sorry, future partner (pffft!), but you’re shit out of luck!