Road to Revolution

It seems that whilst I'm stressing out over my essay/exams, everyone else seems to be on the happy bandwagon, knowing exactly what direction life is taking them in and anxiously waiting for their life to begin. I for one have no clue where I'm going or what I'm going to be doing in six months when this mad roller coster that is university suddenly comes grinding to a halt.

Ever since reading Revolutionary Road all that I know is that I am determined to lead an existence as far from that of the Wheeler's as possible. I don't care if that means living off next to nothing and that I am unable to grace Selfridges with my money-laden presence for a while. Before university, it was my dream to have a well paid job and a gorgeous home, preferably somewhere like Notting Hill or Primrose Hill; any hill seemed fine with me. But over these past three years I have changed so much an I've decided that I want to dedicate myself to doing some good, helping someone whilst I am in a position and frame of mind to do so.

It has now, suddenly and with breath taking vigour become apparent that I want to go somewhere, anywhere where somebody needs my help. I don't care if it's India, Argentina or Uganda; if someone needs my help then there I'll be.

When I left school, my English Literature teacher, Rachel Brindly, gave each of her students a card with a bespoke quote in it. For me, it was from Henry VI by William Shakespeare:

The trust I have is in mine innocence, and therefore am I bold and resolute.

At the time, I did not understand it at all. Only now, at 21, am I starting to not only understand it, but I'm beginning to want other people to understand it- understand that after war, poverty and hunger, innocence is completely stripped from a person, and when they have lost their innocence, they are no become human, but someone with a tarnished soul and no hope.

No, I won't have a house on a hill anytime soon, and maybe this passion will burn out when my innate Wheeler rears its perfectly coifed head to call me back to suburbia, but for now I'm going to keep a tight hold onto this innocence that I feel has enabled me to stand bold and resolute in a society whose antipathy for the innocent has resulted in the loss of hope.

So off I go on my own little crusade and for now, at least, this seems enough.

New Year, New Start?

Am I the only person who thinks that there is absolutely no difference between 31st December and 1st January to any other two consecutive day? I feign enthusiasm when my friends text or call me wishing me a happy new year but inside I am mentally rolling my eyes. 'But New Years are about new starts! You can be whatever you want to be now! Nothing's holding you back now!' Really?

2010 represents nothing more to me than the year I graduate and step forth into the world in the hope of avoiding a Revolutionary Road style life. I love it when people dress and act in a completely different way because they want to make a 'new start.' Note to self: that's not you! Stop convincing yourself that you can be anything else than you already are.

Take me for example. I spent New Years with the only man in my life that matters: Harry Potter. Best. New. Year. Ever. Harry Potter, pyjamas, popcorn and a blue moon. What more could you want?

The first week of January sees the optimistic among us enrolling at the gym whilst wearing clean lines and sharp tailoring. Don't make me laugh. Magazines are reflecting the fact that we don't know what the hell is going to be the trademark outfit of this new decade. Just look at the new spring trends: floral, military, underwear as outerwear, flats, corsetry, the 'new trench'- let's face it; nobody really knows what's going on for 2010.

So now we come to the moral arc where we learn something and feel ever so slightly smug about ourselves; be yourself. Want to wear heels? Do it. Want to go out in North London even though it's all about East? Stay at home because you are obviously too concerned with what everyone else is doing.

Me? I'm going to take each day as it comes and wear my floral tea dress with my All Saints boots not because Vogue or Elle has told me to, but because I look fierce when I do so.