The mindless rambling of yet another Sophie

For years I was the girl with long hair. It was long and somewhat curly and wavy and downright unruly. I had a crown of curls at the front of my head that my mum affectionately called my lion's mane. Let's flashback briefly to 2008 ish. I cut my hair off. I didn't realise donation was a thing so that didn't happen and I effectively went for Victoria Beckham's haircut of the time. It was a long bob that was a little bit shorter at the back than the front. If I didn't straighten it I didn't like it. So for quite a few mornings I would half heartedly straighten the back (far too much effort) and that was it. From there I let it grow out again and like in my childhood sometimes went YEARS without getting it cut. Now we are in 2013 and I am heading off to university and it's all very exciting. I learn about The Little Princess Trust which is a place you can donate your hair to that make wigs for girls and boys. For sometime I had been toying with the...

I've often read and been told that journaling is good for the brain and the soul. Writing down your thoughts each day is 'something successful people do'. It's also something done by mental health conscious people and those who want to appear intelligent and those who just really enjoy keeping a diary and those who are young and those who are old. Yet despite all this I find it hard. I find it scary. It's never quite fit with me. Unlike young girls in the media I never really kept a diary for a life ruining moment of television tragedy. No secret crushes were sneaked between book pages nor hidden away with a padlock and key that was as generic as generic could be. I tried a little bit but it never stuck. It's funny to see the very few pages I did write as they are always laughable. Once I wrote about our friend keeping us in a dungeon with a drawing of the school playground chalk snail (yes, a snail) that we had used for boundaries. Another page looks fake bec...