Friday, 2 March 2012

When did it all get so complicated?!

Hello stranger. It's been a while. How've you been?

I've had writer's block, that's my excuse. It's hideous. Especially when you're trying to write a book. I've had to force myself to try, and sitting in front of a laptop with a flashing cursur and nothing flowing is just ... eurgh. I'm surprised I've got any hair left, and don't get me started on the state of my lip with all the chewing. Thank god for Carmex is all I can say. Because of this I've been eating my body weight in chocolate and it seems my body in turn has decided it wasn't heavy enough to start with, so it figured it ought to make a bit more room. Joy. Yeah, the diet starts tomorrow.

I've also had my first rejection since I decided to start this writing thing seriously. It got to me for a bit actually, I don't like criticism - who does? I take it too personally, I'm a sensitive little flower - apparently it's something to do with the cancerian in me. But then I read something about writing and rejection going hand in hand, and I figured that hey, that must make me a writer, and isn't that what I wanted all along? So I am a rejected writer, officially. Raise your glasses. 

So what's been going on whilst my brain has lost it's ability to make me write? Erm, not a lot really.

Actually, that's a lie, I've had progress. Good, positive progress, and it's about bloody time too.

I think all those years reading Cosmo may finally have paid off, because yes, finally I am a strong, independent woman! Or something like that anyway.

I think it's something to do with age, which isn't a good realisation to have when you're five months off being 30. But anyway, remember the boy? My gorgeous, exotic but totally clueless when it comes to women, boy? Remember how he managed to almost snap me in two emotionally? Well, y'know what, it's true what they say about time being a healer. I think I'm okay. Sort of. Well, I'm getting there anyway. It still hurts, I still care, but it's fine. The true test will come in summer when I will have to be restrained by my friends and anyone else I come into contact with, and also avoid wine because if you know me at all, you'll know that wine makes me do bad, bad things. The last time I drank wine, I ended up belly dancing in front of a room full of strangers, wearing someone else's bra. Not one of my finest moments.

Being hurt and a tad bit heartbroken has made me realise what I do and don't deserve, and the way I should be treated. I guess I should thank him really, sort of anyway, because he's taught me my value. It's also taught me that next time, and let's face it, I'll get hurt again at some stage in my future, I will do it a little more quietly and not moan and groan, cry and snot on anyone that cares to listen. I got sick of hearing me, so I guess everyone else did. I apologise. Blame him, I do, for most things actually. I find it quite therapeutic.

Carrying on with the positive theme - I have a new obsession. Paying off debts. Yeah, I know, yawn. It's hideous but oh so fulfilling. This is because with every little thing I pay off, I take one step closer to where I want to be. And if that's not progress, then I don't know what is. I've got a few more steps to go, but I'm closer than I was a year ago. Aren't you proud?!

Despite all this debt paying, I've managed to have a little break in it and I've booked my first summer holiday of the year. How many are there going to be? Lord knows. There was only meant to be one last year, and look what happened there. But anyway, I have to wait a few months - boo. I figure I'll have earnt it by then though, what with all this being sensible lark - I intend to be anything but sensible when I jet off to the sun. Bring on the Efes. Let's not bring on a stamped all over heart though, eh?

But y'know what - tears, wailing, upset aside, I don't regret a second, it made me smile at the time. I'd do it all again ..... oh good lord, that doesn't bode well. You know what I mean though, right?

So anyway, mind away from a few thousand miles east (which it's not very often away from if I'm honest), I've come to the conclusion that when you hit 25 and move upwards (eeek), having a social life gets suddenly very complicated. This is something I've learnt lately.

I'm sure a few of you can appreciate what I'm saying here, that suddenly you reach a stage where most of your friends, if not all, are married, coupled up, sprogged up, about to be sprogged up, trying to be sprogged up, or somewhere other than where you are. I am at the stage where my friends are all of the above. This makes meeting up incredibly complicated. "Fancy a catch up" suddenly becomes a minefield of clashing commitments, childcare arrangements and checking with the fella. Before you know it, you're planning a drink four weeks in advance. What happened to spontaneity? A few years ago, "fancy a catch up" would usually end with meeting up about four hours later and working our way through the cocktail menu at Yates, whilst discussing the pros and cons of Rimmel's new nail varnish collection and what to do about that cute guy at the bar.

I miss spontaneity and I miss my girly nights out.

Damn you upcoming 30th, you're making me think about what has gone and passed, and making it incredibly hard to look at what is to come without thinking "oh my god, I should be (insert here) married/attached/travelling/living somewhere exotic/doing something exciting by now", and "oh my god, it's only 10 years til I'm 40!"

Oh good lord, someone pass me the wine ......


  1. As soon as I'm back in England we're having a cocktail night!!! There, planned!

  2. Miss Lilly, I'm holding you to that! ..... Although that's even longer than four weeks in advance!


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