Getting Way Too Philosophical in a Filler Post (Francesca is Tired: A Novel)

I AM STILL ON HOLIDAY. But I have posted this, snowflakes, because I want to. And given that a year ago I wasn’t sure if I wanted to blog any more, it’s enough for me just to write that sentence. Until last Tuesday, I hadn’t taken more than a day off at a time in over a year. I nearly published an entire a blog a few months ago complaining about that, but reading a post about how hard my comfortable life is would be even more excruciating than writing one, so I shelved it. But I am very, very happy to have some time off.

Turn off your phone, encourage self help articles. It’s good for you. 

Nah man, a mindless scroll through Insta at 11pm works just as well, I snort.

I am an idiot. Working and socialising through the same five apps and having a day job that used to be a hobby takes way more discipline than I ever realised, and I’m either as organised as Emily Blunt in The Devil Wears Prada or a total slob. When you work from home, what do you come home to? I’ve been at it for two years and I haven’t worked it out at all. I am not a suave marketing guru with a beautiful handbag and neat hair, but I’m not quite a starving artist either. I’m not sure whether I want to be a suave marketing guru or a starving artist. I think it would be nice to be a well fed artist. I would also like to go to backpacking, spend more time blogging and finish a novel. I have no idea how to prioritise one over another – and should I have to? I’m a Millennial. We grew up being told we could have the world, god damn it, and I know the world I want.

But right now I’m happy to have a week off, and that’s enough.

I never actually want neat hair.

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