Songbirds don't do singing on pavements.

This whole blog thing is rather new to me. I don't know why I thought it would be a good idea.
It may just become one of those things I do with vigour for about a month, then abandon. Usually not intentionally, mind.
So, I'm not entirely sure where to begin.

My eighteenth birthday came and went without anything great happening. Not that I didn't have a good time! New York was lovely, I really enjoyed spending time with my dad. I could have walked round that city for hours, even despite the biting February wind. It just seemed so 'alive' and vibrant. Clichéd, I know.
People bought me lots of nice presents, and Amy made me the best cakes. Mmm, they were yummy.
Amy & I had a good night out in Nottingham too, even if people thought we were lesbians, ha.

I'm at this really strange point in my life. Waiting patiently on the cusp of adulthood, and I have never felt more like a child in my whole life. It's unfamiliar ground I walk on now. I often think that I might be using university as a means to an end: that I think it will make me happy. I hope it will. I'm just afraid that I'll go and be no different.
Sometimes I wish that I could start my life all over again with a blank slate - tabula rasa. Simply so I could mould myself into the person I want to be.

However anyway, I need to get ready for work. :|
How rubbish.