It's absolutely maaad to me that January is almost over already. It's not been the best of months but far from the worst. February will be a pretty enjoyable month. Girls, feel free to get me this young specimen or the like for my birthday.
It's all about eating the mash potato off the masher. One of those weird childhood habits of mine and yesterday was no exception. Mum gets all agitated that I'm more interested in eating the mash potato off the masher than the mash potato on my plate. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one.
Now it’d be bad of me not to have a moan on a Monday morning wouldn’t it? I have nothing against smokers – it’s their choice. But when you’re feeling really tired and a little unwell on a Monday morning, to have someone standing next to you who has probably been up an hour and smoked 10 cigarettes already is rather nauseating. I don’t mind the smell of cigarettes at all but it’s that smell on someone who evidently doesn’t stop smoking, that stale kind of smell that really makes me feel quite ill. To top it off, there was a picture of a clown in my Metro newspaper this morning. I fucking hate clowns.
'You are someone who sympathizes with others to such a degree that you actually feel their pain. You are compassionate and empathic. Those are wonderful, noble qualities. However, sometimes your great affinity for the suffering for others actually blocks your power to help yourself. Deep down, when you want something for yourself, you subconsciously think about all the people in the world who don't have as much as you and are grateful for the smallest things. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't aspire to more. You deserve something wonderful, Pisces, and you are about to get it. Know that you are worthy.'
Why do I do it to myself? I say this every Thursday morning after a Wednesday night out and yet I still put myself through the pain. Sure, the nights are probably worthy of a little tiredness, but a full day at work on four and a half hours sleep is just plain torture. Unnecessary torture. The only thing keeping me going is that there’s only one more early morning until the weekend and before I can spend a Friday night in my pyjamas, watching tv, ordering a takeaway, knowing I havent got to be up at 6am. During the week I don’t get to see Chelmsford in the light. Not once. I leave in the dark and come home in the dark, it’s kinda strange. And to be perfectly honest, I don’t see it much in the light on a weekend due to sleeping off my lack of sleep from during the week and messy nights out on a Friday and Saturday. I know they say, ‘Oh youre young, your body can handle it’ – mine really can’t.
I’m getting too old for this.
What makes me laugh the most is when people who literally don't even know you, dislike you/slate you/look at you as if you've just slept with their husband of 25 years right in front of them. Ever since I can remember I've been disliked for being loud and confident. People seem to frown upon it and immediately assume I'm some kind of bitch. Don't get me wrong, I can be the biggest bitch, as we all can, but I always give people a chance because I know what it's like to be instantly dismissed. If people actually took the time to get to know me, they'd see that I'm actually a really nice person (until given reason to be otherwise).
Sometimes I feel like a bit of a freak because going to bed is honestly my favorite time. I get to escape all the crap I dealt with during the day. I get to be alone in this private, warm bed of mine and drift off so I can dream whatever the hell it is that I dream. I don’t even care if it’s a nightmare because it’s not real, so nothing in it could possibly be as bad as the crazy fucker called reality.
Summer is my season. I really can't wait to bust out my summer attire, go for picnics over Hylands Park, wash my own car instead of having it washed, rock some messy beach hair and drink mojito's while my dad cooks up a mean barbeque.
I thought the weather was gradually getting warmer but apparently not. Everyone looks crappy in the winter months. I personally think everyone looks better with sunkissed skin and a few freckles and can't wait until mine show themselves. The picture reminds me of my brown Ray Ban's that I lost at Brownstock Festival last summer. Gutted, absolutely gutted. However, I guess it was well worth it considering I had a pretty awesome weekend but they will definitely be my first purchase of this summer. I've always said how I'm all about the little things and I find myself smiling thinking about waking up late on a Saturday morning, window wide open and the hot sun beaming through the gap in my curtains. It's also so much easier to get up for work in the summer months and I find myself actually wanting to go to work some days just so I can spend my lunch hour in the pretty little church garden round the back of my office with a starbucks.
So I know I've been fairly crap with posting lately but I've been pretty busy. Normally I come on here to moan about things and lately, I don't have much to moan about which is obviously a good thing. I go through these random phases where I have a complete blank of things to talk about so for that, I apologise. I'm sure it won't be long before my ramblings return. P.s. you make me feel beautiful.
I was sick of the thought of love. Sick of everyone going on about how badly they wanted it and how badly they were in it. I'm never entirely convinced of true love until I see it first hand, in a relaxed, un-staged setting. I'm currently reading Dear John by Nicholas Sparks and no I've never seen the movie. I'm falling back in love with the idea of love.
Yuck. Another Monday, here we go again. Literally felt like I died around 3 times this morning. Getting out of bed, killed me. Getting out of the shower into the cold, killed me further. Having to wake up and get off the train at Liverpool St topped me off and thus, I am the walking dead. I’ve had some rather peculiar dreams lately. Yesterday I dreamt that my friends Taylor and Max were dancing round a super market to a 70’s themed routine wearing bright orange shirts – I genuinely woke up laughing. And then last night, from what I can remember, I dreamt I had a little baby brother. Was absolutely gutted to wake up and realise my mother’s ovaries hadn’t been at it. He was a right chubby little thing and always wanted cuddles. Not much I enjoy more than a good cuddle. Convinced my nights out of heavy drinking influence my brain’s productivity and cause me to have such random dreams. I really need to stop drinking, not that I drink on a totally regular basis anyway. Nine times out of ten, if I’m going out I tend to drive but it’s that one out of ten that kills me and causes me to act like a total idiot. It’s always a little worrying when the night before is a little hazy. I’m normally pretty good at remembering what was said, what happened etc. but I can safely say that it’s no longer one of my strong points. I’m the kind of drunk that really does let out my true thoughts and emotions and it’s proven to be a bad thing. If it doesn’t land me in a bit of trouble, it leaves me feeling embarrassed for sharing my opinions on things. Believe it or not, I have trouble telling people how I feel. You’d never think it from reading my blog but in the flesh, to put my thoughts into words is something I struggle with. So yeah, if ever I ramble on when I’m drunk, please just ignore what’s being said because chances are, it’s something I shouldn’t be telling you.
My thoughts tend to sound better in books I didn't write, and in the songs I didn't sing. Even then, sometimes, there is no piece of literature, no song, no work of art, that can really explain the way you feel. There is a double-edge comfort in knowing that no one really knows.
She wanted to return to her dream. Perhaps it was still somewhere there behind her closed eyelids. Perhaps a little of it's happiness still clung like gold dust to her lashes. Don't dreams in fairytales sometimes leave a token behind?
A crazy sense of optimism has overcome me today. Ever get bored of your appearance? I've been wanting to change the way I look for quite some time just didn't really know a way of going about it but I've come up with a plan. Now, I'm not going to tell you what it is incase it doesn't happen, but, if it does, I'm going to be one happy girl. It's going to require a hell of a lot of hard work and determination on my end so keep your fingers crossed for me.
The first day back at work after Christmas was never going to be easy but this morning's little venture couldn't have made it any worse had it tried to. My normal train, cancelled. The next train, rammed. I told myself that there was no way I was going to cram myself onto a train and be standing when I'm feeling this ill. Luckily the next one wasn't too bad so I managed to scramble for a seat - even if it was between two men. One of which luckily, was my dad. I'm always grateful of a shoulder to lean on when I fall asleep. Not that I'd be getting any sleep however. I slept a grand total of I'd say around two and a half hours last night and the rest was spent either trying to cool down due to temperature, trying to get warm due to shakes or coughing a ridiculous amount. I'm never appreciative of my mum waking me up at 6am but its safe to say she received my satanic side this morning. Now you all know my hatred of trains but they're quite possibly the worst place to be when you're unwell. You feel rude for coughing too much and so put yourself through the ultimate discomfort of trying to hold them in when you feel that tickle in your throat. My eyes are heavy and watery and I certainly consider myself at death's door. Normally I'd be grateful of a slow moving train after all it produces me with more time to nap, but today, I wish it'd hurry the fuck up so I can get out of this hot sardine can and breath some fresh air.
I used to love the 'London commute'. It had its own special buzz and although millions do it along with me every day, I felt special to be able to be one of them. I was warned that the novelty would soon wear off and sure enough, it did. Quicker than I thought actually. I remember having trates of tomboy in me as a kid and loving trains almost as much as I loved Barbie. Not often would I get to go on one and if I did, it was normally up to, sure enough, London to either go shopping, go to a museum or an exhibit of some kind. Oh the excitement I used to get. How times change.
I am nearly mad about you, as much as one can be mad: I cannot bring together two ideas that you do not interpose yourself between them.
I can no longer think of anything but you. In spite of myself, my imagination carries me to you. I grasp you, I kiss you, I caress you. A thousand of the most amorous caresses take possession of me.
As for my heart, there you will always be - very much so. I have a delicious sense of you there. But my God, what is to become of me if you have deprived me of my reason? This is monomania - which, this morning, terrifies me.
I rise up every moment saying to myself, "Come, I am going there!" Then I sit down again, moved by the sense of my obligations. There is a frightful conflict. This is not life. I have never been like that. You have devoured everything.
I feel foolish and happy as soon as I think of you. I whirl round in a delicious dream in which one instant I live a thousand years. What a horrible situation!
Overcome with love, feeling love in every pore, living only for love, and seeing oneself consumed by griefs and caught in a thousand spiders' threads.
O, my darling Eva, you did not know it. I picked up your card. It is there before me, and I talk to you as if you were there. I see you as I did yesterday: beautiful, astonishingly beautiful.
Yesterday, during the whole evening I said to myself, "she is mine!" Ah! The angels are not as happy in Paradise as I was yesterday!
Well he we are, first post of the new year and I'm sorry to say it won't be one of much interest as I'm bed ridden and have been for the past 2 days. I'm miserable. I want to be out making the most of my time off but instead I'm in bed (best bed in the world I have to admit), coughing up a lung with Ray Mear's Extreme Survival being the only highlight. It is times like this though that make me realise how much I appreciate my Mum. She's been checking on me constantly and giving me a silly amount of cuddles. Never going to be anything wrong with a lot of cuddles.