Allow me to introduce myself...

...as The 22-Year-Old Crazy Cat Lady. Who has no cats. And chooses suede boots over slippers in public.
Why would I call myself the Crazy Cat Lady? Why am I proud of my nickname?
And what on earth is the point of this blog?

 Let me tell you. Sit closer. It's okay, you won't get covered in hair from the tabby, mainly because I don't have one. I started this blog because I wanted somewhere to post my random thoughts/rants/celebrations/hilarious/humiliating experiences from my everyday life. Keeping a diary  gets far too deep and serious and I find that sometimes it can make life seem more problematic than it actually is.

It's important I think to not take yourself or your life too seriously. Laugh as much as you can (excluding events such as funerals, witnessing serious injury or if you work in a GUM clinic; don't laugh then, as it is not appropriate). Go with the flow. (I've been reading books on Eastern philosophy and Taoism. Very refreshing and relaxing outlook on life if you can keep it in mind at all times). So rather than brood in my journal over men with nice arses and bad manners, personal worries and what a bitch so-and-so is because she stole my pencil, I'm going to keep a record of my thoughts publicly so that I have to sit back and take everything lightly because I want to entertain you and because I can't get caught up on specific people or anything too personal because people will be reading this. It will make me start looking for the fun things in my life, the positive things. And if something pisses me off, well I can just rant about it here.
 I want you to laugh with me (and at me) and the tangled ball of wool that make up my thoughts and my life. I want to kick about this ball of wool like a kitten, who does not care when exams are or whether I will get married one day or how many grams of sugar are in an Alpro Soya yogurt. The kitten does not give a shit for anything except wool, cat food and peeing on the rug.
As for the "Crazy Cat Lady" name, it's partly because people my age take relationships far too seriously. Too many times do we cry over bad endings and mean texts and cheating. Too many pages of diaries are filled with love woes. You know what? Sod it. If I just believe I will die alone in my nightie with 50 cats in an asbestos-filled flat then who cares whether I'll get a second date or whether he's the love of my life and will sing to me beneath a balcony (wait, I'm in Sandfields) or a fumble in the Oceana alleyway. (I have never had a fumble in the Oceana alleyway, just to clarify. I do have some standards).
Cat ladies care about nothing but cats. Whilst I do not have cats, I like the cat lady mentality. "Bailiffs are coming? Sod it, have the TV, I'll keep the cats. I can't afford food this week? Fine, I'll eat a kitten."
So yeah, this is my life, as it is, not taken too seriously.
Meow.

(...if I ever get asked on a date by an actual human after starting this blog, do shake my hand and congratulate me)