Hannah. It's a palindrome and so Hannindrome bursts forth, relatively quietly and inconspicuously into the unthinkably large land of the internet.
I keep being told that nothing literary is new anymore, that there is no originality. Everything is constantly being repeated, spewed, regurgitated. I definitely agree but it is a rather bleak outlook to take. Especially for all those writers just starting out. No longer do we embrace pen and paper with the wondrous optimism held by those who took all the good ideas centuries ago. We know London's streets are not paved with gold. Instead we just start something off one day and hope that it will be noticed somehow by someone who was also noticed once.
I graduated in September 2009 and even though we cringed when Take That's Greatest Day cried out over our parents applauding hands, we did feel that secret excitement, that quiet hope that the mortarboard perched on our heads would mean the one thing we all dreamed of, success. Yet here I am, nearly a year after completing my English degree, working in a kitchen of a garden centre restaurant. I like to throw around the term sous chef but, in all honesty, I'm making food that I was qualified to make while still at playgroup. It's a degrading and demeaning life to lead and I try not to feel too sorry for myself because I know I am far from being the only one. Even so, I was overcome with sadness when, on completing a crossword puzzle, I realised it was the first time I'd used my brain since my dissertation.
It can be hard to feel proud of oneself when in such a predicament, however, since finishing university I have had two (horrible) jobs, saved for and bought my own car, learnt to drive and have recently moved out again. So if that doesn't qualify for an Oprah style applause, I don't know what does.
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