A wise man once said I wasn't good at anything.

The wise man in question was my father - and he was wrong.

I am utterly fantastic at being good for nothing. If being unskilled in all things were a skill I'd be a Master. Infact, my ability to waste entire days in bed or aimlessly browsing Youtube and playing Bejeweled is unmeasured. I believe it's a rarity to lack any sort of skill in today's environment, please correct me if I'm wrong.

Most people I know have that one thing they can do superbly well, be it a technical skill such as programming or mechanics, a creative air around them where they can make a toilet tube into a fashionable accessory or write a song about My Little Pony, turning it into a humorous, catchy hit. Even such things as driving, cleaning or waiting on tables. I seem to lack in all of these. Don't get me wrong, I've tried my best (Ok, my 'best' is what most call a half attempted stab in the dark) at doing new things. I borrowed my Uncles' guitar in the vain attempt of proving my musical ability to the world. It went well, I learned all the chords, I could even play them....just not while strumming coherently, and certainly not while singing in tune. I bought myself a drawing pad and some pencils in an array of HB's, B's and other meaningless letters, I mean surely anyone can draw? Turns out not. Unless turning flowers into vague resemblances of animals is anything to go by,

"I like your Giraffe, it's very artistic."


"It's a tulip."


You get the picture (ironically most didn't.)

The strange and peculiar thing is, I've come to accept it. Perhaps I've become accustomed to simply being useless. I'm the friend people come to when they want someone to listen (my advice is never that good either and my friends have long since learned that) or when they want to talk about the latest Doctor Who episode. I have an odd assortment of friends, they seem to split pretty cleanly into two groups - 'The Intelligents' and 'The Mainstreams.' I'll refer to them as the I's and M's for short. The I's are scholars, theologians, poets and published author's, the sort who you like to name drop but can't really keep up with (but it's fun to pretend you know what you're talking about when Marxism pops up over coffee.) The M's are the opposite, they're addicted to celebrity gossip, reality TV and base their entire days mood on how their hair is sitting. If it's a bad hair day you know to say you're busy. I fall somewhere in the middle.

I guess this takes me to why I created a blog. I don't want to accept being useless any more, I want to actively change. I want to be able to say I'm good at something, anything. I decided that I'd like to document my little adventure. A chronicle of change, you could say. A mixture of new things I want to try and my hopefully successful reports on such endeavours (and no doubt numerous tales of woe at my failings). Along the way I'll be throwing in random musings on life and growing up because that's what I'm about to do. One week left living with my father until I'm out there in the big, bad world.

This 23 year old Scottish girl is probably going to be having one rude awakening on life (and about damn time too.)

M.