Here’s a problem:
As this is my first post, I am obliged to add some momentous vim and splendour to what I am about to write. An appropriate kick-off, in other words; worthy of the reluctantly rising expectations I harbour for my little project, brought on by my collaboration with eleven lovely fellow Kingston University students: to create what has recently been christened Synced.
But now things are already sounding rather muddled.
In short, this blog has been constructed in order both to serve me as what, I believe, the appropriate wording for is ‘a lifestyle blog’, and as a link to Synced Magazine, to which I shall contribute with features, news, and whatever else is deemed acceptable for further publication.
There will be plenty of difficulties. My first arrives with the stinging sensation of having to tolerate the red lines already forming beneath ‘splendour’ and ‘harbour’, as I type away on my stubbornly Americanized MacBook. Do I add it to Dictionary? Am I reckless enough to risk getting my fingers duly slapped for accidentally sending in some dreadfully vowelless vocables? After a bout of fruitless galumphing through system preferences, I have declared my defeat against Apple.
My second shortcoming is a rather shameful and outdated, subtly concealed dislike for any form of viral hoo-ha. This may bring a staggering amount of discomfort to anyone with a keener interest in life hack vlogs, Kardashians, vine, and the excessive photography of sustenance. That is certainly not my intention (though if you do have a keen interest in the Kardashians, I don’t believe we could ever be friends. Not sorry). The maladroit truth is that I remain virally crippled and perpetually disinterested in plenty of things out there. And that is terribly, terribly embarrassing. It isn’t much help that the cold I landed in the beginning of October refuses to leave, forcing me to consume the grand total of seven oranges in one day. Seven. It appears to be a personal record, which is all well and good, except for the fact that I don’t even like oranges. It’s a consistency thing. It’s also a rather glum November evening, and a Sunday; just in case I forgot to convey a general message of depression there!
Now all that glorious general pleasantry is covered, I would like to add that most days I am not a sour misanthropist, or at least I momentarily forget to be one whenever I find myself in civilized company. ‘Civilised’ company? Oh God, how will I ever muster the prowess to cross this terrifying lingual barrier. Like crossing the Atlantic itself, equipped with partial paralysis and a pool noodle.
I like horses, and decent music, and tons of creative and wonderful things I hardly ever let myself have time for (singing, drawing, tennis… stuff). I recently grabbed a BA in English Lit, during which I indulged a little too much in the creative writing part and lagged a little on the academia side of things. Quite naturally. I have my doubts about the fact that this blog could sustain being a source of joy and fluff and not a dark abyss of analytical whinging, but I might very well surprise us both.
And so, I bid you all a warm welcome and profoundly hope I haven’t frightened you away.