People always ask me, ‘Where did you come from?’

I usually begin to explain with, ‘Well…’ as I search my brain for some humourous, somewhat clever response to yet another demeaning question. Of course they don’t want to know my cultural background or ethnicity; I’m not at all exotic and my accent screams Australian sheila. What they want to know is how exactly did my parents create someone with a sense of humour three times stranger than theirs, and an absurd confidence that reveals itself when The Spice Girls or Bohemian Rhapsody comes on.

It’s not that I’m a complete lunatic, in fact most of the time I sleep, eat, social media, repeat like the rest of you. I’m just more inclined to be a little strange because I think God forgot to give me the part that causes someone to actually feel humiliation.

I don’t mind making a fool of myself in public, and think that it shouldn’t matter what strangers think (after all, they’re called the strangers, not me!).

I also don’t mind my daily diet consisting of only chocolate and carbohydrates. I do not enjoy long walks on the beach, just short ones, and would rather enjoy pizza on a park bench, than endure a creepy candle lit dinner. I can talk your ear off, and destroy my own with the loud music I drown myself in and, without meaning to gloat, I can take you around the world in just 80 words with the gazillion-and-three accents that I’ve mastered, including Russian, Irish, American and Swiss (just to name a few).

So that’s me, Lydia Crates. A 19 year old university student with a lot to say about a whole lot of nothing.

Thanks for swinging by, and happy reading!


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