Kindness goes a long way.

It's 2014. It's the 21st century. The age of iPads and space shuttles and a potential treatment for Ebola. Everything is advancing. It's a good time to be alive. Well, correction, for some people it is. I've been brought up in a safe place, with a home, a strong family and a support system around me. I had a good childhood, a decent education and a healthy upbringing. I was told I could do anything I wanted and be anything I wanted, if I worked hard enough for it. I could achieve anything I put my mind to. I had the opportunity to go to a good school, achieve better than average qualifications and have a wide range of prospects at my disposal. I had a good group of friends. I was never bullied, broken down or left to feel like I had no one to talk to. I never went without. I never had to go through my parents' divorcing. I wasn't a child who had to wonder when the electric meter would cut out, or where my next meal would come from. In summary, I was lucky. 

Most people would read this and think, so what? We weren't a well-off family. We still aren't. My parents work full time at normal jobs to fund their family, and for that I'm eternally grateful. My mam and dad made sure I never went without if possible. I don't live in an area that is considered particularly wealthy, but nor have I ever been on the other spectrum entirely. 

While you're all planning Christmas surrounded by over-indulgent, extravagant presents, copious amounts of food and drink, spare a thought for those who won't wake up on December 25th like that. For those who won't wake up with a roof over their heads on Christmas Day. Those who won't receive a single present, because money isn't there. For those individuals who aren't in safe, cosy homes surrounded by family and friends. The harsh reality is, in an age of development, discovery and a recovery from the recession, there are thousands of people who slip under the radar every day. In 2014, in my opinion, nobody should still be homeless or living in poverty. I guiltily look down at my feet and stare at a pair of well recognised, branded, Australian fur boots that are worth more than some people will have in an entire year to live on. It upsets and angers me no end that this isn't more of a problem to people. I've seen people give someone homeless a wide birth, walk past and not even smile, instead grimace, and this is nothing short of disgusting. I know I'd hate to think if I was in the same position, someone would judge me solely on my appearance, not my character. Nobody is homeless or poor out of choice. This is why I've chosen to donate to charities who support those individuals who may be spending Christmas on the streets, and make sure they get a safe place to stay, and a hot meal surrounded by others during the Christmas period. Charities like Shelter, the Salvation Army and Crisis. Just a small sum of money could make someone's Christmas. A drop in the ocean for some people's finances. I proudly support homeless charities and will be comforted to know that their work over Christmas will help people less fortunate than myself have a chance at a good Christmas. 

If like me, you don't believe homelessness should be a problem in the UK, in 2014, please donate. Whether it's a one-off sum, or a year-round donation, every little bit of money helps. 

Shelter: 

Www.shelter.org.uk

 

Salvation Army: www.salvationarmyappeals.org.uk

Crisis: 

www.crisis.org.uk 

Once again.

This time last year, I was determined that 2014 would be the best year yet. In good old fashioned, clichéd style, my eyes were full of optimism and motivation. The blood pumping through my veins was buzzing with excitement. The new year countdown would be the best yet. Everyone would be smiling, merry and singing to auld lang syne with tequila slammers at hand. 

This was a world away from how I saw in 2014. In fact, I can't even remember half of it. I spent around two hours in the pub, after spending four getting ready, and countless more in prep and organisation. What started out as a casual, sociable night with friends soon turned into me doing a dissapearing act. I then ended up at a then friend's house, totally off my face on 60% proof white rum (wray & nephew shots will make you hate yourself the very second it passes your lips.) 

I had a numb face and barely any control of my legs, but luckily I had someone to make sure I was okay. Giggly, embarrassingly drunk and a total mess, I end up at my *friend's* house and end up meeting his family, in my drunk stupor. Luckily, everyone was numbed by alcohol which made the event a bit less awkward. More drinks, more laughter, and more celebrations. I woke up beside him with a banging headache, a raging hangover and the biggest smile on my face. 

The friend in question has now been my boyfriend for the last 11 months and I couldn't be happier or luckier. A new start doesn't always come hand in hand with a new year, but maybe instead of the completion of an old one. There's nothing to say you can't change something any day. New starts aren't just for January 1st, even if mine was.

July daze.

So, it's here. Today. The seventh month of 2014. That sounds strange. Gosh. (I never, ever say that, but it seems fitting today.) I'm speechless. Sitting on my bed, in sweats, (yeah, I do that now) and no make up and freshly painted nails of which I've been trying to establish the real colour for about a week now (we've settled on 'heather.') I have my iPod attempting to play a soundtrack that seems fitting for July, but I keep my forefinger stubbornly paused on the 'Shuffle' button. I'm restless today.

I feel like I haven't had enough sleep. I feel dissatisfied with July already in one respect, and in another, I'm totally, utterly and completely happy with everything. No sun = poor excuse for summer, well, in my eyes anyway. I have Coldplay strumming right now. Maybe it fits, there are clouds hanging heavily in the sky outside my window, after all. I feel like I should write something profound and substantial. Pinch-Punch and all that jazz. Here goes. Here's to trying.

#1: Today, I read Gracie's latest and probably, the most important blog post. A fabulous girl I write about frequently, and yet, I've never so much as clapped eyes on her in person. (This year, we'll share a coffee, in person. At some point, I've vowed.) I let my coffee go cold as my eyes adjusted to what was appearing rapidly on my iPhone screen. My mouth fell open. My eyelids gathered salty tears. My heart seemed to stop a moment. Not only is this a very beautiful piece of writing from a lovely girl with a huge personality, but I can only even try to comprehend how hard it must have been to write. For reasons, that if you give it a read, you'll know. Hell, of course you'll read it. She's wonderful. Gracie is someone I feel like I've known for years, and in reality, it is merely due to reading her blog intently in a pseudo-stalker-like fashion (oh, and a few avidly typed tweets: Come say hello!@eleanorward_) Anyway, she's been through an awful lot lately, and deserves acknowledgement, and a very strong Jack and Coke. That's my first 'July' thing. I'm sending her lots of love, because I have a lot to thank her for, and she's one of my favourite people.

#2: July sparks something for me I've never been able to say before. Exciting! As of a few days time, me and my boyfriend will have been together for six months. Half a year. To some, that's probably not a big deal. To me, well, it really is. I hope he won't mind me saying all this, well actually, I know he won't. It's pretty surreal to think it's been almost six whole months. It's a blur. A happy blur at that. We've known each other a lot longer than that though. It's a funny story. Well, maybe it is, but that's for my own memory. We were friends for a long time, and have known each other for around 15 months now. I won't throw all the soppy clichés your way, except maybe this one: not only is he my other half, but he's also my best friend. That's all I'm saying. He's incredibly important to me, and how anyone copes with me for a week, let alone six months is beyond my comprehension, but I'll not complain! Stop grinning Lukas, this isn't for your ego.

#3: July is the limbo for me, between holidays (Ibiza and Menorca) and just some of the space that makes up the journey between Year Two and Final Year in degree lingo. This year, my final desperate shot to prove to myself, and everyone around me that my degree has been anything but a waste of time and money. I need to prove myself. I need to "write something substantial." I need to do something that scares me but maybe will open up an array of opportunities for me, and ultimately, I need to decide on what I'd maybe like to do in that scary thing called Future.

July is full of indefinite possibilities, opportunities and events. It's getting warmer. It's getting closer to Decision Time with regards to my degree. It's closer to my 21st Birthday, which I'm really excited about, but also kind of apprehensive. 21 means responsibility; and not just being able to cross the road on your own, or standing on your own two feet. July features my mam's birthday, the anniversary of my Grandad's death, and the cram of planning and organising for a family holiday that has filled all eight of us with a sense of dread and excitement at the same time. Also, here's a random fact: July was named after Julius Caesar, as it was his birth month. I'm positive, I'm excited, and I'm ready to go. Metaphorically speaking, that is. In reality, I'm lazily perched on my bed, still, checking my phone compulsively and eagerly awaiting my latest purchases from my beloved ASOS. Russell is making his way to my house, to deliver what I hope will be the most beautiful handbag I've feasted my eyes on. Only time will tell.

"If anyone's worth letting your coffee go cold for, it's definitely you."

So indecisive, so adamant.

You don't mind me singing badly to Robbie William's greatest hits, or the fact I'm a tad neurotic and very, VERY high maintenance. The fact I can and do, on many occasions, quote Friends in real life situations. My caffeine addiction you seem to accept thoroughly. The way I can't walk past a mirror without checking my hair or touching up my make-up. Your willingness to let me get drunk and show you up, and yet you still pick me up when I fall flat on my face giggling. stop smiling Lukas. The days I don't want to speak, or get out of bed, or smile, and you let me do that if that's what I want. My stupid irrational shopping habits, my ambitious dreams, and my OCD tendencies. Knowing when to leave me alone, and fully understanding that sometimes, I just need to cry and have a massive hug. Knowing I gorge on stupid telly and will end up having an emotional breakdown every time something remotely sad happens in any programme whatsoever. [not that I ever do this, obviously.] You accept me drunk dialing you at 2am, and 3, and five. The fact it takes me about six hours to get ready for a night out. With a face full of make up, or totally bare. Knowing that I will go out every weekend, and moan about my hangover over and over until I can't take it any more. Staying up stupidly late with me because I just can't sleep. Coping with my sarcastic, bitter slurs at times, and banishing all doubts from my mind when I'm feeling really low. Telling me I look amazing, when I feel shit, holding my hand when I'm scared and encouraging me when I'm unsure of something. You are the reason my smile hasn't vanished in 78 days solid. The reason that 2014 is turning out to be one of the best, ever. The reason I wake up smiling and go to bed feeling content.

Lucky bitch.

It's Thursday, it's January, and the sun is shining. My dad is sat at the table in my peripheral vision, watching Pulp Fiction. I'm only half-listening, although I've never seen it. My phone is buzzing happily every time I receive a message. A smile sits so effortlessly across my face. It's sixteen days into 2014 and there's a feeling I just can't shift. I honestly can't believe how lucky I am. Okay, side note: I'm getting more absorbed into Pulp Fiction every second, so I'll keep this short yet eloquent. I'm surrounded by the best people ever. I can sit here confidently and swear that the people in my life are some of the best I've ever met. The funniest, kindest, most incredible individuals I could ever know. The people who make me tick. Know me inside out, my good traits and bad habits and stand by me when I need them most. There's certain people I'd honestly do anything for. Recently, I've come to know Amy, a girl who, although we've never met face to face, I consider a very good friend. Amy and I got to know each other basically through blogger and twitter, shared writing, creativity, drunk snapchats and vodka memories. We're hopefully arranging to actually meet in person this year. She's amazing, funny and such a talented writer. I fully believe she's going to be some big-shot writer one day with her latest novel bound in expensive leather backing, and hopefully she'll sign my copy personally. Anyway, that aside, Amy is one of not many people I trust with a hell of a lot. She's one of the strongest people I've ever known, she's been through a lot and yet always comes out of the other side, stronger and more determined than ever. A risk taker. She knows that despite writing being shrugged off by many as a less than conventional career prospect, she's doing it anyway. I can honestly say, I know she will get something published, because if you have enough guts, and enough sheer determination as she has, there's no other outcome, and I find that blindingly wonderful. I'm smiling stupidly, as if I've just been told I've hit the jackpot. You'd think I was lying on a bed, surrounded by a mass of £50 notes, money heaven. Pound signs in my eyes. The cha-Ching of winning something incredible. I'm gushing so much, but I don't care. I know how lucky I am. Surrounded by an amazing family, friends and boyfriend. I can't even begin to describe how strange it is writing that. Lukas is probably grinning reading this. Stop it. I won't be smiling unless you bring me tequila.

:) 

From now on.

Seven days into 2014, and I've just sort of realised, where are my resolutions?! As a slightly neurotic, occasionally OCD person, I love to make lists. Shopping lists, to do lists, reminder lists, anything. So this is it. The one list that should count, right? My New Years resolutions. Here goes nothing, (or may be everything.)

1. Be happy. I mean it. Really, genuinely happy. This year has got off to a great start, so here's to hoping to just gets better. This year, I put my happiness first. I do what's good for me. 

2. Work harder. Uni wise. Also, I need a job. I constantly live outside of my means, and I need to get a grip and start living in the real world, even if I don't like it much. Everyone keeps telling me I'm so capable, so maybe it's about time I proved them right. 

3. Take risks. Lots of them. I'm tired of being scared of doing something, because of the chances of failure, messing things up or just not working out how I'd like. The bottom line is, if I'm not willing to take a risk every once in a while, I probably won't get to where I want to be. 

So, there's three. Seems a bit OTT to do many more, and it'll just fall into my obsessive list-making habit anyway if I continue. Today has been tiring, in the best possible sense. Even if I didn't do an awful lot. I'm drained. The festive season is well and truly over. New year is just some nostalgic memory fading on the horizon. The banners have gone, the decorations ripped miserably down as the clocks changed over and the ball dropped. There was no messing about. No hesitation. Once it's over, it's over. We don't dwell on it. There's dibs on who gets to sit on Boxing Day and say "well that's that over for another year" in such a nonchalant way that you'd think we didn't kick up such a fuss in the first place. 

To me, the eight days between Christmas Eve and new year are the only good things about winter. The hustle and bustle of eveything seasonal. The panic-buying, the happy crowds getting all tense and impatient, the food and not forgetting, the eight or so day binge we all have on alcohol. (Okay, most of us.) So it's all over. The presents packed away, no tinsel in sight, back to work, school and uni we go. Real life spells January blues, snow on it's way and the usual post-Christmas fads that usually die out by the second week of the year. I'm tired. Okay, scratch that, I'm absolutely exhausted. Everything is just so. Every smile, every breath, every movement, it all seems..well, right. I keep gushing about how happy I am, but I honestly can't emphasise it enough. (Lukas, you can take credit for this! You got a shoutout, even if you didn't want one, but I'm pretty sure you're grinning right now.) It's a hell of a big deal for me, and I'm still getting used to it. 

Happy nonsense.

Right now, I'm even struggling to write clearly. And no, I'm not drunk. I'm actually stone cold sober, and yet I couldn't make sense right now to save my life. I feel lost. Drugged up to the eyeballs. Totally, irrevocably wrapped up in my own life to even come up for air. Selfish as it may be, I really don't care. I'm stupidly happy. It's ridiculous. I've found someone who has the amazing ability to make me grin uncontrollably. Someone, who I won't name, because sometimes, secrets are nice. I don't know, would he like to be named? If so, I might spill. Then again, it is just a blog. I don't think I've ever met anyone that makes me this happy. Someone I'm so comfortable around. Who knows me, even the stupid things. My ability to quote the entire boxset of Friends, knows how neurotic I can be, my coffee habit and love for sambuca. My quips and traits, flaws and failings, passions and dreams. I have absolutely no clue why he isn't running a mile, but I'm unspeakably grateful that he isn't. I'm grinning from ear to ear, totally, utterly high on life. 

2014, we meet at last.

This time 24 hours ago, I was just walking through the front door. Safe to say I definitely wasn't the first foot in. Greeted with mixed expressions of amusement, disappointment and embarrassment, me and my stinking hangover just wanted bed. I well and truly celebrated new year in style. Okay, no. I didn't. I got blind drunk, showed myself up and then had to play down my drunkenness in company. I never slept, didn't get home, and carried on drinking. I made friends, then enemies with crowds of people, took hundreds of spaced-out photos that you can't even make out, and spent too much money on hard liquor. Instead of arriving home yesterday and seeking bed, food and a shower, I made arrangements to go back out. Officially round two. New Year's Day, it's impossible to stay in for. Even my parents were getting ready to go out, while I struggled to eat anything. I powered through, showered, changed and slapped some make up on, in a desperate attempt to disguise the fact I was in that weird limbo between hungover and drunk. 

Today I'm pale and still shaking. The room is spinning, and every time I get up, it feels like I'm moving far too fast. Needless to say, I don't even want to think about any more alcohol for at least another week. Every part of my body hurts. I've greeted 2014 with a horrible hangover and unsure smiles, sambuca and sleep-deprivation. The radio is shouting and acting as some sort of motivational voice, and yet, I'm just lying in bed feeling overly sorry for myself. My feet are sore, I'm severely dehydrated and I can't shift this feeling of queasiness hanging around so unwelcome. I'm happy though. Very happy. Even if I am in so much pain. I think I need a brisk walk in the January sun and shift these blues. Apparently January blues are alcohol-inflicted. Or at least they are in my case. I saw the new year in very messily, and yet, I'm happier than ever. I've not stopped smiling in about two days straight. My liver is crying out for sobriety, my head wants painkillers and my muscles just want to shrivel up and die. Rough times. Curled up with puppy in bed, today is officially a write-off. HAPPY NEW YEAR.