UnWisdomness

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Why are wisdom teeth called wisdom teeth?

Wisdom teeth are called wisdom teeth because they erupt (emerge) into the mouth when people are in their late teens or early twenties, affectionately termed the "Age of Wisdom"

Well, I have three of the bastards making me reach for the Nurofen/Ibuprofen/Brick Wall; and I have never felt less wise in my life.
I knew finishing University would be tough. I knew it was going to be a scary transition into the next stage of life. I just didn't anticipate it would be this tough. I thought although it would be tough I would just kind of, glide gracefully (not that I do anything gracefully) into the next chapter. Breaking news: I haven't...
Its the weirdest feeling and I can't really explain it. Although I'm sad to have finished University, I'm happy to be leaving the stress of it all. Although I'm sad to have left our lovely flat, I'm happy to have less financial strain for the time being. Although I miss my housemates, I know one is still in Chichester, a 17 minute train ride for me and one is in Hastings. They are hardly the other end of the country - Yet something just doesn't feel right...I just feel...a little bit empty. I'm still perfectly happy...It's just something that I can't put my finger on. 

Perhaps it's the fear of being lost. I've gone from School, to Sixth form, to University. I've always known what's coming next. And now I'm stumbling slightly. However sometimes the unknown is good, it's the chance for a fresh start and new and exciting opportunities, I just need to figure out what I want those to be. But I'll get there. It's just a case of seeing it as something positive and not something scary!

So I'm all moved back home now. Back with Mum and Rob, back with the small sibling types, back with Doris (who has seemed to take over the role of hormonal teenager the last two years I've been gone), back with Wilbur and Dairylea the Rabbits and Ryevita and Dip the Guineapigs (I think that's what they are called, so many come and go I lose track) and the fish aquarium with Liz and Phil and Terence and Mr Snicket and whatever the hell they've all been named. 
It is nice to be home. It's a massive shock to the system. I've gone from having dinner at nine whilst watching Big Brother to having dinner at six, followed by half an hour of Tracey Beaker, followed by a read of 'The Magic faraway tree' (Or something similar) if I am on small sibling type bed time story duty.

But it's okay, I'm slowly getting back into a routine and feeling settled. (This included Panto auditions yesterday with the lovely Bench Theatre, who I did a show with three years ago and then haven't been able to do another one since due to University chaos - I'm so excited to do another show and get some more silliness back into my life!!)
When I left the flat, I cried the whole way home and on and off for about three days after that. My first night home I explained to my mum through my hiccup-y tears as she hugged me, that I wasn't crying because I was sad to be home, but because I was sad to be leaving. Contradicting I know, But it was tough saying goodbye to the last two years of my life living independently. Its the most cheesiest expression, but all I could think of was that it was the end of an era...and that nothing was going to be the same again...

What a frickin' drama queen eh?!

Still, the end of an era means the start of the new one. 
SO, I'm going to work through the Un-wiseness:

I'm going to do panto - (OHHH YES I AM!)
I'm going to find a new job, where I can actually use my degree (And earn more money!)
I'm going to (try) and lose the Stone and a half that living independently for 2 years resulted in (UH!)
And I'm going to get my driving done (OH GAAAAAD)

ONWARDS!