Adele’s BACK. Thank Christ; that cackle is medicinal I’m sure of it. Also at the risk of sounding simultaneously needy AND stalkery (I’ll go with it, it’s not a new thing), can we have a night in the pub, please babes?
The first single from her third album was debuted a couple of weeks ago, prompting an Internet meltdown (of which I was a ‘gushing’ part of, according to The Independent. More points to me for playing it cool) as ‘Hello’ instantly disrupted the entire entertainment industry.
As I said in that… ‘enthusiastic’ tweet, she has the voice of a century. She is an incredible artist.
It prompted me to spend the morning replaying her back catalogue. This, in turn, led to a somewhat empowered ‘Hell YES it’s Friday, hell YES I AM ALIVE!’ *snaps fingers* style shower and I really was the perfectly blended embodiment of both Rolling in the Deep AND the paints nails emoji for those three glorious minutes in which, in my head at least, I did in fact run the world.
Aside from the early morning sass, replaying old Adele songs led me to something else from the past.
I dug out (read: googled) my very first blog. The title?
I remember being hugely affected by what Adele spoke of when she so innocently came along with her guitar and casually proceeded to blow the music industry apart. She poured through my ears straight into my heart, because her music is deep and personal and pondering and unapologetic and raw. I, and we, were and are, so hungry for such articulations of experience and emotion and that to me is why music, words and art can be so powerful, and are so necessary. It’s why she can so suddenly and quietly return after a three-year hiatus and cause the entire world to stop for a minute.
I’m in no way suggesting what I create is comparable to a multi-Grammy award-winning artist who regularly produces era-defining music, but her ability to articulate her experiences at least made me think about trying to articulate mine. I think they call that inspiration.
This blog is cringe loaded with mozzarella marinated in gorgonzola drowning in Parmesan and then some. It’s also patronising, snobby, and ignorant.
But at the same time, in our brave new world of likes, clickbait, Instagram constructs this first blog, with its lofty ideals, is reflective of me just being someone one who is thinking out loud. It’s me, at a time and a place in my life, expressing my personal truth at that moment – as shortsighted as that truth may be.
This blog was created in 2007 – before blogging was cool, before you could make crazy sums of money from it, before it was considered an actual career to aspire to. I apparently just wanted to write about my overly-profound thoughts and feelings, which I’m still doing seven years later, but thankfully for everyone involved I’ve got a bit more self-awareness now and all delusions of grandeur have been stamped out due to ACTUALLY LIVING IN THE REAL WORLD YOU IGNORANT 21-YEAR-OLD STUDENT.
Things we learned from my first ever blog: I didn’t know shit about shit. But, I could write a little.
This first blog is absolutely ridiculous, but at least I’m pondering my reality, my future, the world. We are now saturated with blogs that are full of words, and yet somehow tell us absolutely nothing at all. Merely relaying information other people have fed them, regurgitating press releases in exchange for cocktails and free samples, with (in some cases at least) no thought for the craft whatsoever – for what the ‘publish’ button actually means. Blogging is such a wonderful thing to do – I could push the plaudits of it forevermore. And being paid to write content is absolutely appropriate, but I strongly believe writers and creators should at least try to make you think, relate, learn, connect and above all FEEL something about something in doing so. I received a press release a little while ago that told me that blogging is now the top career choice for young Brits, because you get free stuff and earn loads of money without having to do much.
*heart audibly sinks*
Press trips aside (because who doesn’t love a free holiday) anyone who doesn’t want to ultimately create an impact with their craft shouldn’t be creating in the first place. That craft could lightly amuse one person (me, to my Mum) or cut through the heart of millions (Adele), but the intention needs to be in the joy of creating something, not the offers or validation that may or may not follow. The impact of Adele’s melodies, lyrics and that soulful tone that makes your heart ache is exactly why we need creativity, and need people like her who are unapologetic about sharing their thoughts and feelings with the world. Over and above everything else, she’s real.
I’m gushing again, aren’t I?
And so I actually really love that title for my first blog, even though I so unashamedly stole it. It perfectly encapsulates the feelings of the unknown that surround you as you get ready to graduate from university and start adult life. So thanks, Adele, you queen, for that.
We also need to have a chat about my blog bio. It reeks of SO many things, the most pertinent of which is conformity. Of who I thought I should be – the quirks and weirdo traits that are in my bloodlines and that I’m now so happy to own are never mentioned. I’m just another girl who likes shoes and shopping and pouting. I may write absolute disastrous waffle these days, but at least it’s authentic to who I really am: a ridiculous waffler with some deep thoughts, and other thoughts that don’t extend further than the joy of cheese and unicorn emojis.
Right. Now that we’ve got into the psyche of 21-year-old Jen, I present my first ever post ever… Pave The Way.
OH GOD. I’ll be in hiding for the foreseeable future.
Will we ever stop chasing pavements?
On and on we go, but do we ever actually get anywhere? Where is the destination? I’m in such a limbo state at the moment, everything is morphing, changing, moving. Am I really ready for all this? I think in the third year of uni, everything has really hit me. There I was humming happily in my Loughborough bubble…the bubble’s about to burst. Which is good because I’m not sure how many more fancy dress themes there are out there that we haven’t conquered. I was so stuck the other day that I just piled on a mix of past accessories; I looked like a fancy dress shop had thrown up on me – Fancy Dress Regurgitation. Nice.
I just don’t see where I’m going to fit in this big wide world. It kills me to think I’ll just end up as another anonymous cog in some divine scheme of laborious day in, day out humdrum.
Maybe now is not the time to be worrying about such profound issues. It’s the last week of term and town is a blinding array of lights, tinsel and Christmas trees, so I’m gonna head off and enjoy it. Going home at the weekend and it’s always a disappointment to realise that I’m back in a real town, where you can’t take a tenner with you on a night out and expect to come home with small change. Loughborough does have some perks you see.
Right, I’m armed with an interesting array of fancy dress fun: black gaffa tape, face paints, pipe cleaners, a black tutu (probably not quite the intended use) and, of course, a pair of tights. Tonight Matthew, I’m going to be…a bumble bee. Why do I do this?