I actually did it!

Well, I've been busy.

As of 15th July 2015, I became a fully fledged graduate. I now have a BA in English Literature and Creative Writing. I got the 2:1 I was dying for, and although I was my usual stress self, the day went incredibly well. Putting on my gown, I glowed with pride. I somehow managed to bag EIGHT guest tickets for my ceremony, allowing all of my special people to see me graduate, which meant the world to me. My parents, my grandparents, my sister, my auntie, and not forgetting my wonderful boyfriend Lukas, without whom all of this would be just a pipedream. I don't know if any of them cried that day, looking up at me on stage, as I shook the chancellor's hand, smiled into the camera and walked off stage again, this time, WITH A DEGREE! But I felt myself buzz as I sat back in my seat, alongside my friend Laura. We looked at each other, and laughed: 'WE DIDN'T FALL!'

I probably could've cried, I just felt so overwhelmed. Admittedly, I did have a *few* diva moments throughout the day, when my gown irritated me, when my stomach rumbled and my head cried out for coffee. But luckily, I was met with helping hands, 16 to be precise. I can't even put it into words how much it meant to me that all my family got to see me awarded the degree I've been moaning on about for the past three years.

I won't sit here and lie and say those three years were easy. In fact, at times, I could've thrown down my books and packed it all in. I am sitting cross-legged on my bed, drinking coffee and reminiscing, calmly and happily, but that wasn't always the way. I was never very sure about going to Uni in the first place. I was shy. I didn't jump at the chance of making new friends, and being thrown into new situations. I worked my arse off for my A-levels, because basically, everyone at my school was encouraged to go to Uni, if you could get in. So I did. I sort of came around to the idea by the time I was in Year 13, while crippled under resit forms, I just decided I had to grin and bare it.

I got in. I was accepted into Uni and it all unfolded from there. Second week in, I was terrified. Thrown into my first real seminar, made to voice my opinions on novels I hadn't quite managed to finish, never mind form said opinion, but I bluffed my way through. I made friends, I gained confidence, I wrote an essay, I referenced correctly, I met new tutors, I began to adapt. I chose a Creative Writing course as my double honours alongside Literature, as I really loved writing. Little did I know, that would be my strength. I struggled in my lit essays. I didn't get the marks I was expected. The workload got on top of me. When my CW tutor sat us down and said we had 60 minutes to write a poem, I actually had a meltdown. Sorry, I'm rambling.

Basically, what I'm saying is, I may have a degree. I'm surrounded by those congratulating me and telling me how proud they are of me. I feel the pride too, but I also know, I struggled. I didn't sail through Uni with a book in one hand and a pint of lager in the other. The past three years of my life have been eventful to say the least... I went on three holidays, lost my confidence, began writing a blog, read a hell of a lot, drank so much I was physically sick, cried so much my head hurt, lost friends and gained others, established a love/hate relationship with Sambuca, celebrated, grieved, partied, gained a boyfriend, joined the gym, put on weight, grown my hair and got my confidence back. And now it's done. I can take a breather.

I haven't got a clue what I'm going to do with my life. But I have a degree, so I'm not panicking too much.

I'm lost.

All the days seem to have merged into one huge mess and I honestly can't remember the last time I woke up happily, with a smile on my face and a lack of exhaustion sitting on my shoulders. I'm worn down, and to be honest, a little bit lost.

I've finished my degree, celebrated both my sister's and boyfriend's birthdays within a week of each other, ate my own body weight in food and then amidst all that, everything came crashing down. My family received news we were dreading. There were, and have since been, countless tears shed, flowers sent and hugs shared. We all dressed in black and sat in the church and tried to sing hymns without spluttering through them. And then, in expected style, celebrated the life of a man who touched so many lives, and so many people. On almost-empty stomachs, we glugged pints and necked vodkas, bought rounds of gin and then later on, the sambuca started. More tears. Talk of happier times. As is said, United we stand, divided we fall. 

And united we were that day. 

Hand-in-hand, side by side, arm in arm. To hold out a tissue, a drink, or even just a hug. We mourned together, sang together, cried together, smiled, laughed and got drunk together. We reminisced, we held out hope, made promises, made plans, and then, collapsed into a heap of hangovers and reality hit.

This, was now nearly two weeks ago. That in itself seems unbelievable. And since then, I can't even seem to work out anything useful I've achieved. I've broken 3 acrylic nails done, and had one repaired, went to the gym and lost my gym card, collected an assignment from uni and was disappointed with the marks, lazily and half-heartedly browsed the net for jobs, and then, just gave in. 

My head still feels like it could explode any time. I have no grand plan now I'm finished uni, no career in the pipeline, no employers fighting over me. I'm stuck, I'm bored, I'm in denial and mostly, I'm lost. For the first time in my life, I feel like I have no solid friendship group. I haven't got uni, work, school, sixth form or proximity linking up and uniting my friends and I. I'm alone when it comes to being an adult, and honestly, I've never been more terrified.

Memories stick.

Sat in my room when a song comes on and a tear pricks my eye. It's amazing what can make you react, and you don't even realise it. I always like to think I am in control of my emotions and actions, but really, that's a really bad attempt at a façade. A line of a song, a look, a smile, a Friends quote, an act of kindness, a bitchy comment, a noise, a face, a single word, a smell, a taste, a laugh, a voice. They can all change you. And they all have at one point in your life, regardless of your self-control. Don't sit and shake your head indignantly at me and tell me you aren't always changing, because you change every single day.

The line of a song would be from Sweet Caroline, because you never knew it was his favourite song until it was too late. You never had chance to sing with him and hold his hand and tell him it was yours too.

A look from someone who just sees things in you that you never thought possible will boost your confidence and make your doubts excel at the same time, because its all so new to you.

A face you haven't seen in a while crops up in a busy crowd, and maybe you don't talk now, maybe it's just been too many years to fix things between the pair of you.

The smile on the face of the person who loves you the most, or the person who has never been more proud of you in their entire life, it's priceless. It makes you get your arse into gear, step up, get a grip of your life and act like someone who deserves the acknowledgement.

A Friends quote you share with a certain person, reminding you of a time when you've really never laughed as hard. You'll cherish it, and do anything to maintain it.

The act of kindness you never saw coming and you chastise yourself for it, like it makes you cynical or something, when in fact it makes you human. You learn to see the best in people, rather than the worst.

The bitchy, nasty comment a friend makes to you crushes your insides and shatters the relationship you once had. It will never be the same after that day, and maybe that's the best. Cutting out damaging people is a step forward, not a step back.

A noise that will always make you smile; an applause, a congratulatory nod in your direction to let you know that the hard work, late nights and sacrifices do pay off.

A word that sends your brain into overdrive for so many different reasons, it makes your stomach churn and your head ache and your chest go tight and yet, it's all okay.

A smell that makes your eyes widen and your mouth water and your whole body ache to be somewhere else, with bright lights and good people and amazing wonderful things.

A taste you never forget, its bitter at first until you get used to it, and then you learn to love it. You drink it black now, and it makes even the worst days better.

A laugh that echoes further than you could even imagine. The most contagious thing you've ever come across and you can't actually remember a time when it wasn't in your life. She makes you laugh more than anyone, and she's basically your best friend, not just your sister. Nothing will ever be funnier than a joke shared with her.

A voice you adore. His voice. The way it dances in octaves when he's talking about something that excites him. The way he whispers something wonderful. The huskiness of breathing 'I love you.'

It's mad how things stick in your mind. For good or bad reason, memories stick. Some are hidden, granted, but most come out to play when that song comes on, or your hear someone's name uttered, and maybe that's just it, - your memories may fade but they don't disappear. And usually, I'm thankful they don't.

Both feet forward.

At the age of 21, I've come to realise that maybe I'm just one of those people who has to be pushed head-first into something. I hold back. It's my nature. I'm shy and self conscious until I have experience in something, or until I know someone well. My face glows red and my mouth dries up and my tongue ties itself into complicated knots. It's awkward and pathetic and I hope one day I'll grow out of it. 

I'm finally a bit more like the person I've always envisioned. I can buy an outfit and know if I look good in it without someone else's nod of approval. I can read aloud in class without stumbling too much or wanting to curl up into a ball and die. I can actually have a conversation with people I don't know well, and laugh, and joke and feel comfortable. I can make my own choices and look forward into my future and what it may or may not contain, and confidently voice what I hope to achieve without feeling like I need to hold back. 

However, I haven't always been like this. I used to be the shy girl. More than that, I used to be the girl who didn't speak. Until the age of about five or six, I don't recall even answering the register in school. Purely because I just used to hate to draw attention to myself. I hated the idea of thirty pairs of eyes staring at me while I let out a little, muffled "yes miss" to answer. By the time I left primary school, I could hold down basic conversations and friendships, but I didn't really come into myself until much later. 

My first major friend fall-out at 13; I thought my heart was broken. At fifteen when people were really horrible to me about a boy I didn't even know, I folded into myself. Silent. Concealed. Out of the way of conflict. I've always avoided things that scared me. I was nervous completing my GCSE's, but totally terrified when it came to A-levels. So much so, I made myself ill twice. It was then I told myself I had to just let go. I hD to just jump head first into whatever was thrown at me, and hope for the best. (Note: it payed off.) 

I went to uni, I almost have completed my degree, and in some respect I'm glad I pushed myself outside of my comfort zone. I wouldn't be who I am today if I hadn't. I wouldn't have the friends I have today, the experiences, or the relationship. Maybe I needed to be pushed to apply for uni, to pass my driving test, to abseil, to make friends, to gain experiences, to down another tequila, to take risks that would really enrich my life. 

Whether it was a kiss, a payment, an accepted invitation or a confirmed place on UCAS, I wouldn't be who I am without jumping into things, even if I do it with an ounce or two of reluctance. I always get there in the end. 

Mass of negatives.

Lately, I seem to have given up with regards to my degree. I don't know what I'm doing with it, and I'm struggling. The assignments get me stressed and get me down. I cry. I honestly am not ashamed to say it. My writing is dwindling, my skill isn't even really there, and I feel like I'm totally lost. Whatever I started out to do seems to have vanished from my view. My friends are making plans for after this (final) year and I don't know where to start. The passion once in my eyes seems to have fizzled out. I'm passive, apathetic and maybe, just maybe I want to want something simple. 

I sometimes sit and curse the fact I've aimed for something better in life. I look at my family and want to make them proud. But at the same time, I have a lot of respect for them. I see what hard work does, but in turn, what it does to people. I want to make something of myself, for my family, as well as for me. But what? Writing is a stupid aim, I curse myself saying. What can I write? A journalistic article? I don't know enough. I'm too opinionated on things nobody wants to read about. I don't have the concentration or the skill to write a novel, and even then, that's hardly a livelihood to sit on. I need to get my act together and my arse into gear. 

But lately, I have my home ties more than ever. I want to stay close, my family are everything to me, and things at the minute need praying for. My 'career' or whatever that is/may come to be, is on the  back bench. I'm sick of everyone telling me to plunge myself into a career. WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK I'D WANT TO BE A TEACHER?! 

Stressed, bored, apathetic, lost drive. No enthusiasm. Winter blues, we meet again. 

Forgotten raindrops.

 

This is the view from my bedroom window at present. It's raining. It has been for about four hours now. I might add, that in the small world that is Chester-Le-Street, it pretty much rains non-stop. The greying clouds have set in, however, spirits aren't dampened. Its Friday after all, and "we won't melt if it rains" is something my mam always says. I'm uninspired, lazy and apathetic today. Worrisome, stress and out of sorts. I don't feel ill, I just feel, well, not quite myself (or on-point, yes... go on, laugh you lot!) With a family holiday around the corner and Final Year on the horizon, I'm supposed to be all chip and cheerful and optimistic. This isn't me. I feel all empty and bored. I need to set my sights high and my act together. I need a reading list sorted, my iPod updated (which may be one of the most gruelling tasks ever pre-holiday) and a desperate plea for inspiration where my ECP is concerned. This is rubbish writing, basically. Side note: A massive, lovely happy birthday greeting to my favourite girl and wonderful writer, Gracie. Enjoy today. You bloody well deserve this.

So, with Little By Little playing on a loop, the rain falling like teardrops staining my double-glazed portal to the outside world, and the irritable feeling of being unsettled, I sign off. Have a lovely weekend, wherever you are. Monday, my strict healthy eating starts, my early morning awakenings and the feeling of constructive tasks commences. Oh well, good intentions are a start, aren't they?

Songs for every occasion.

That, is one of my grandmas favourite and frequented sayings. (The Moon to my Duffy, FYI.) 

After what has been a tough few days for some of my closest people, (Grey's reference, IKR) I got to thinking about songs, and how they remind you of a certain person or situation. These are important to me in some ways. 

Neil Diamond's Sweet Caroline will always remind me of my grandad. My dad's name is mentioned, and I hear a library of music play, from Bob Marley, to Madness to Kaiser Cheifs (the really, really old stuff.) My best friend, Betty, will always be seen as The Killers' Somebody Told Me, after all, who else can I air-guitar down the front street with on a Saturday night. My sister is seen in various colours; she's Pretender by Foo Fighters, Phil Collins' In The Air Tonight and Gabrielle Aplin's version of The Power of Love. She's also the likes of SHM and Armen Van Buuren, LMFAO and 1D's Little White Lies, Michael Jackson's Smooth Criminal, Katy Perry's Dark Horse and more recently, What Do You Want From Me? By Monaco. My mam will always be met with the classic and soundtrack to her favourite film; Goo Goo Dolls' Iris, while the song that always makes me think of my grandma is Don McLean's American Pie (a really rather tipsy karaoke singalong one Christmas.) Robbie Williams' Come Undone is the song that makes me think of my boyfriend, Lukas, as we just so happened to tweet the entire song lyrics to one another pre-us getting together. It's a long story, and I'm keeping it close to my chest. Steph's song is, and always will be David Guetta and Sia's Titanium, or perhaps Spectrum (Say My Name) by the one and only Florence and The Machine. Night's out will always be greeted with Katy Perry's TGIF or something like that. Nights spent in Brit are fuelled by The Beatles, Arctic Monkeys and of course, Club Tropicana. My auntie will always be I Gotta Feelin' courtesy of BEP. Now for the others. Flo Rida's Right around reminds me of an old friend, Sexy Bitch ironically reminds me of a distant friend, and Orson's Bright Idea will be a distant memory of someone I've grown apart from. Gives You Hell by All American Rejects signals heartbreak and tears, along with Taylor Swift's Fifteen. A massive shout out to Abi, someone I was friends with, and grew up with, throughout some pretty tough teenage years; the soundtrack of our youth looked a bit like this; Love Bites- You Broke My Heart, Alice Cooper- Poison (except I'm sure ours was the weird techno remake from Groove Coverage or someone), the total spoof of The Jam's Going Underground- London Underground, Special D- Come With Me, and of course, Scooter's Jumping All Over The World. (WHAT CAN I SAY, we were Chester kids!) While Jenny (Reece, yes that's you) will always make me think of Taylor Swift's old stuff. There are probably many, many more I'll think of by the time I publish this, but a little shout out to you lot in particular. I love you all, oh, and thanks for sticking by me until my music taste developed into something a lot more acceptable!!!!

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."

Departure.

In less than 48 hours, I'll be departing Newcastle airport and arriving in Ibiza. The pilot will announce over the receiver the local time and the temperature outside, and be greeted with a few hundred passengers all cheering happily. Excitement brews. Prospects are all over the place. A week, two weeks? Ten days? All of these people have something in common, a holiday destination. And yet, they'll all have very different holidays. 

A girly holiday is our chosen plan. Betty, Steph, Sarah and myself are ready to hit the white isle for a second battering after last year's drunken antics. This time, with a little bit more money, a year's worth of preparing our livers, and an even more desperate need for a tan. 

This time however, things are different. I'm excited to go away, but there are things pulling my back. Ties I've made. Things I don't want to leave, not even for seven days. Excitement in the air, a tear in my eye and euros in my purse, I'm ready. Well, okay, that's a lie. My suitcase isn't even packed. The flight is Monday afternoon. I literally finished shopping for stuff today. I'm very, very disorganised and it's totally not like me, at all. My camera isn't free of photos, my iPod isn't stocked up with new songs, my money isn't properly sorted. I'm out of sorts. It hasn't quite hit me properly that I'm actually going away. Part of me still thinks it should be January or something. Madness. Let it begin.

Bound and gagged.

Okay, okay. Calm down. It's not that kind of blog post. What kind of shit do you think I write? *blushes* Yeah, okay, I laughed at myself. Apparently that's a sign of madness. May as well be one I applaud and self-confess. So, what's with the title, you may be wondering... Well, it's how I feel right now. I've attempted this blog post four times now. Every time, I was unhappy with the words on the screen. I deleted them with enforced frustration. My words weren't conveying the tone I wanted. It was, it seemed, useless. 

So that's how I felt, bound and gagged. Stuck. As if I couldn't find the appropriate words to explain how I was feeling. I still don't think I can, not really. My head is whirlwinding, sort of. Ups and downs. Good news and bad news. Positives and negatives. My mind is torn between tears and grins, and the poles are further apart than ever. I have my lovely other half to thank for the constant grin sprawled so effortlessly on my face. Lukas, thank you. For being just so amazing. Being with him is like my happy place, as Phoebe says, and he is my person, to quote Cristina in Grey's. The reason for my insane happiness. Now for the other side of the spectrum. Someone I don't physically know, and yet, have come to know, may be going through more than I can ever imagine. She's incredible, and is strong enough to get through whatever life throws at her, I just know it. Gracie, you can do this shit, okay? Whatever you need, there are people around to throw it in your direction with amazing force. Eloquence seems to have left me amidst my subsequent confusion, but it will hopefully be sitting comfortably in my lap soon. Today ends with prayers, happy thoughts and the confidence that things get worse before they get better. 

Writing silence.

I can't believe it's been so long since I've posted on my blog. It's like my baby, and I've neglected it and just shoved food under a crack in the door rather than commit to any proper regime whatsoever. Stupid analogy but who cares, I am pretty stupid at times. So, why have I been gone? 

Well, I could rhyme off a long, convoluted list of excuses, or instead, explain where I've actually been for two weeks or so. I'm not sure which of those I intend to fulfill but here goes. Between finishing uni for the summer (minus a deadline and an exam, niether of which have even been considered, never mind completed) and sleeping, basically all I've done is drink and laze about and channel blind avoidance with regards to my uni work. I have a 3,000 word creative piece to write that is due soon (I honestly can't even remember the date, it's sometime before May!) and I'm so desperately uninspired. Stuck in fact. An idea is blossoming in my tiny little mind and yet I'm unable to really run with it. Preoccupied with alcoholic outings and socialising with my friends, as they gradually creep their way back home to not-so-sunny Chester-le-Street (it's Newcastle way-FYI.) from various locations for uni. Tonight will be my third night out in five days. I haven't done this in ages, so the air is filled with hairspray and excitement. 

Let's go get drunk. Basically. Drink too much and laugh so much our stomachs ache. Oh, and of course, prepare ourselves for Sunday. Yes it's Easter, and for some people who are religious this has another significance. But, it's also Bank holiday, which for me and my ever-expanding group of friends, means lots of laughs, and even more alcohol. The celebrations start at 8. I'm counting down the hours. 

Happy days: #1

Okay so I've well and truly jumped on the #hashtagging happy days bandwagon and for that, I'm smiley yet also partly sorry for giving into it. It's kind of just too irresistible. I'm going to write happy posts every so often, in a list-like form, of things that make/ are making me, happy. Plus, as people know, I have a tendency to be cynical, negative and terribly pessimistic. Indeed. So, maybe, I think, this may help lift my mood, and focus on positives rather than negatives. Always a good idea, right? So here goes nothing. 

A kind of given, but Alex Turner's voice is just the soundtrack to my life at the minute. I'm unhealthily obsessed with Arctic Monkeys, and AM is, in my view, the best album yet. My favourite song, well, I have too many. I'm too indecisive for that. 

My "reading week" at uni: yes! It's finally here, shh, we're taking advantage of any time off possie. As of Monday coming, I'm off for the week (according to my own schedule anyway) so that means no uni, no stressy mornings and no boring as hell lectures at 9am. Happy days, I've needed time off for ages. Sleep time yes.

My latest read: as some of you may or may not know, Nathan Filer's debut novel The Shock of the Fall won Costa's book prize this year. Immediately, I almost sprinted to Waterstones to get my hands on a copy. As soon as my eyes feasted on the first few pass of this brand spanking new novel, I just knew I was going to love it. I'm about a third of the way through at the moment, and it's really addictive. The crisp pages are just engorged between my fingertips. It's one of the best pieces of writing I've read in ages. Read it. It's making me happy.

My old new-found obsession with My Family. We bought the boxset around Christmas time. If you haven't seen it already, I urge you to google it, or find one of the many sky channels that count on repeats to fund their viewings, because this programme will be lurking around I promise you. Originally a BBC sitcom, My Family follows the lives of the Harper family, their ups and downs, loves and losses, through chaos and celebration, turmoil and despair. I have seen every single episode multiple times, and now we've invested in the boxset (yes..boxsets are the way forward for a quick fix) I just need to watch them over and over again. Also, Miranda, yes, she's wonderful, and the sitcom is just painfully hilarious. Get watching.

Oh, and I can't forget this one. A spin off from the very well known Grey's Anatomy, Private Practise was discovered by me about a year ago, maybe less. I started watching just one or two episodes a week, and now it's five and a half seasons later and things are unwinding like never before. It's already finished, I might add. This programme doesn't run any more. It ended 13 episodes into six seasons, over nearly as many years. I have around 15 hours of it left to watch, ever, and I'm torn between savouring it and completely devouring it in one intense, bizarre, emotional sitting. The latter will probably occur very shortly. 

So, yes. Happy moments. Also, a tiny little shout out to Lukas. I'm not one for soppy exchanges and waaaaay OTT PDA's, but I don't care, this suffices, because, he makes me happy. So there you go. That's really all there is to it. 

Bear with me.

I'm exhausted, stressed and close to tears. It's finally happened, my belated January blues, the winter depression everyone talks about. That's what I feel like now. The bags under my eyes get darker every day, I'm irritable and getting lazier as the mornings get darker and colder. Uni is just causing me a lot of unnecessary stress, and I hate that. Assignments are flooding in, deadlines are looming and decisions have to be made, fast. I feel like I'm losing my friends, to uni, to other people, to everything. I can count on one hand how many times anyone has attempted to contact me in the last couple of weeks, and it scares me. It seems like everyone knows what they want, what their end goal is, what they're aiming for. While I sit, twirling a pen between my thumb and forefinger, absent-mindedly daydreaming about one day writing some fabulous bestselling novel or something. I want to scream (into a void, perhaps) or just disappear for a few days, hibernate and pull myself together. Sort out my work, and my immune system, and boost my mood. I'm a nightmare lately, I'm moody and stressy and I'm intolerable when it comes to anyone else. I feel like I might just eat everyone alive that comes into close proximity with me. I'm constantly checking my watch, counting down the days, until my week off. I need some down-time. Some rest. Some peace. It's hard, I feel like I push people away sometimes, I know I do, but that's only because it's for their own good. I'm just saying, if I want to be on my own, it's because I need to be. I really need to stop stressing and start smiling again.

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.

:) 

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. 

So long 2013, it's been nice knowing you.

So, people, this is it. It's 50 minutes into New Year's Eve. This time in 24 hours, it will be a new year. Celebrations will be underway. Auld lang syne will have been sung by thousands in unison. Champagne bought in crates. Balloons, fireworks and any other celebratory stuff people buy in the run up to a new year. Excitement is building! I'm making plans, painting my nails and generally just anticipating what will undoubtedly be a really fab send-off. 

It's funny, celebrating the end of one year and at the same time, the arrival of another. Only a minute separates the two, and yet in those sixty seconds, we all expect big changes. In that small amount of time, we enforce goals, resolutions and cement changes that we naively, or optimisticly expect to carry out and fulfil said targets in only 365 days. Silly really. Yet we all buy into it, the facade, the illusion, the concept that with a new year comes new possibilities. In one respect, it does. In another, it kind of frustrates me. I'm all for new years resolutions that people are actually capable of fulfilling, but those irritating people who take to social media outlets and drone on about "new year new me". Well frankly, they can do one, because you can change any time, or more likely, change gradually. It doesn't happen overnight, nor does it happen in the space of the countdown timer. 

I love new year, no matter how I spend it. Then again, it's no secret that now I go out for new year, it's even better. Throwing silly amounts of money at the barman in exchange for something lethal that will make you hate yourself in the morning. Hysterical laughing, singing and generally just being surrounded by faces you know and love. Being outrageous and nostalgic and happy and drunk all in once place, and it's just sort of brilliant. Every year, I big it up, and every year, it falls short, at my feet. This year, I'm absolutely positive, will surpass expectations. The end of this year, I think, is something worth celebrating like hell about. It's been rough, for some, very rough for others. There seems to be a cloud of negativity shrouding 2013 and it's complete existence, but by the looks of it, we'll rise from the ash in 2014. The verdict is good, everyone seems optimistic, plus, thank god, it's not snowing yet. *touch wood* 

Whatever 2014 brings, I'm ready. I'm hoping it's one of the best yet. I haven't got many concrete plans, but that's okay, it's not even January 1st yet, so you could say, I've got a bit of time left. There are things I want to do, see and achieve. Places I want to visit. Things I want to experience and people I want to share it with. Let the countdown begin. I'll be ending the year in the way I started it, surrounded by friends, shotting tequila, totally and utterly intoxicated, and absolutely in love with my life. HERE GOES. For the people I lost this year, I'll never forget you, and the ones I gained, hold on tight, 'cause you aren't going anywhere. So long 2013, I guess it's been nice knowing you. x

<3

"I'm...happy."

Yes, there you go. I said it. There are nervous butterflies nestling in the pit of my stomach as I type it. It's like as soon as I've said that, it's just tempting fate. It seems like every time I say that, catch myself thinking it or anything, something always comes along and turns the tables. For every glimpse I get into that place called happiness, I spend what seems like hours in the dark depths of despair, so saying it, and not being (as) afraid of doing so, is a big step for me. Hell, it's a huge step for me. I think I've genuinely smiled recently so much that my relatives are starting to realise how miserable I had been. 

The last few days, 72 hours or so, have been just wonderful. I now laugh every time I hear that word, because when my mam and dad got married some twenty years ago, my dad got tongue-tied in his speech, and just said everything was "wonderful." So, now I smile l every time. It's nice. Christmas Eve, this year, broke any previous tradition I had become accustomed to. The usual night spent in front of the fire and the telly, watching Christmas films, wearing new Christmas pyjamas, that all fizzled out-ish. That's okay, though. My twenty year old self made plans to go out for the first time ever. Christmas Eve, little did we know, would be one of the most heaving nights of the year in our home town. For a rather small place, Chester has it's fair share of pubs, and the nights out are fab. While you can't walk twenty steps without seeing someone you know, whether that's a blessing or a curse still remains to be seen. I, however, have always kinda liked that. The friendliness. The familiarity. Knowing that there's always someone you can talk to, over a coffee, a glass of wine, or a tequila or two. (Okay, side-tracked. Sorry, I've been drinking.) 

So yes, Christmas Eve was busy. That's a huge understatement but it doesn't matter. A good night was had by all. I spent Christmas Day, just like I do every year, at my grandma Juney's, where she cooks an amazing dinner, and the whole family spend the day laughing, drinking and reminiscing. Today saw round two happen. Boxing Day for some means early morning sales, going back to work or simply just going out to carry on drinking. For my family, it's like a second Christmas Day, except with tonnes more food and we swap the cava for anything and everything. By the time the evening wound down, and everyone began to leave, I caught myself smiling. Not a grin, a smirk or a laugh, just a half, happy smile. It had all gone well. No glitches, nothing. Just surrounding ourselves with loved ones and appreciating every minute of it. 

Tired, a bit tipsy, and totally run-down, I'm wrapped up in bed and just feeling a tad elated. Things are just how they should be. My chest is tight, as if I'm struggling to catch my breath, my stomach feels like it's in my throat, and my face hurts because I simply cannot stop smiling. I lie here now fully aware of how lucky I am, and how I must always cherish what I have. Soppy but I honestly mean every word. I'm all mixed up, but it's a kind of good confusion. When everything is going right. Every single thing in my life seems to be fitting right into place (touch wood.) Finally. I won't lie, I even said it out loud today, uni lately has made me miserable. A lot of things made me miserable. I burst into tears this morning when my mam spoke to me because I felt down about something. I've just been so unnecessarily stressed. I can't help it. It's not even that I hate uni, or my life or anything, the serious truth is, I just can't handle pressure. Stress of any kind causes me so much heartache. I mean, it's actually dangerous. It actually got to the point a few weeks back where my parents were going to take me to see a doctor. Yes. I just wrote that. I don't know why anyone needs to know that. Maybe I don't want people to. But hey, it seems I'm carrying on writing..so. I can't handle stress. I get irate and teary and just kind of break down. Needless to say, I should probably work on that. But it's all to one side. It's out of the picture. 

Happy days are in full swing. I passed my uni assignments I stressed so much about. My family are closer than before and I feel like I'm making the effort to be a nicer person, oh and..nah. I won't mention the third, although I kind of want to. I suppose there's something of a private life I should keep private, for now, at least. I'm ready for the new year and whatever it brings. I know I'll be seeing it in the only way I know how, bad renditions of auld lang syne and lots of alcohol, with my favourite people. Nothing can beat genuine happiness. That's all anyone should ever wish for. 

Meeting deadlines.

Its as one of my best Friends would say, (yes. Phoebe Buffay does count) "merry Christmas Eve eve!" Tomorrow is the day that every child waits eagerly for, stockings out, a drink for Santa and lots of presents wrapped cosily under the tree. Songs constantly playing, traditions in full-swing. Excitement is brewing. It's only a matter of hours until December 25th, and everyone is getting frantic. Whether you're one of these overly organised people, with all of their gifts bought, wrapped and hidden, or, instead, you're burying your head in the sand and trying not to think about how many presents you still need to panic-buy. I'm somewhere in the middle of this. I have one or two things I still could potentially need, or could buy. My bank account is gasping in shock every time I charge another item it's way, after months of attempting and failing to pace myself with regards to my lovely student loan. (What can I say..) 

So as I started thinking of the limited time until Christmas, and then caught sight of my blog view count. There's around 8300 views since March this year, when I started blogging for real. I'm shocked and chuffed that I've got anywhere near a figure like that. It baffles me that anyone would like to read the stuff I write, I mean, it's not like it's overly literary or profound. It's just truth. Mostly anyway. None of what I write is dishonest, it's just I don't tell full truths in certain situations. So, this is my dreamed up target. I hope to, and I am determined to, keep my blogging up next year, and hopefully get somewhere with my personal writing. I'd perhaps, quite naively like to reach a huge, 10,000 blog views to see the new year in. I know that's ambitious, but I am. Let's give it a go. Get reading. Pass my link on if you're feeling nice. Let me know if there's something you particularly enjoyed reading. I want to know! Gimme some help if you can :) 

Let's get seasonal.

Somehow, while I've been blinking, staring vainly into a mirror or tweeting something, Christmas has arrived (well, almost!) Less than four days until everyone goes all super-festive and splashes out on turkey crowns and lots of stuffing, Christmas crackers with bad jokes in and of course, stupid hats. Whether you're a fan of this time of year or you're more negatively known as a total Scrooge, there is something kind of magical about it. 

I love Christmas (even though I hate winter.) The happy smiling faces, the tinsel everywhere and the endless reel of festive music played everywhere you go. It seems I can't even go to the shop without hearing someone attempt a BandAid tribute act sporting tatty, bad-fitting Santa hats. It's lovely though, right? Maybe that's just me. All the silly, stupid, eccentric kind of things are all acceptable at this time of year. Spending an unnatural amount of time in close proximity with family, some of which you will probably only see twice in the coming year. The extortionate shopping sprees leaving hundreds of people in debt to enter the new year, because treating anyone and everyone you know is an absolute must on December 25th. The only time anyone dares to wake me up early and doesn't have to fear the wrath of my sharp tongue. From Jack Frost to The Santa Clause, the festive films just seem to be shown on a loop. Fireworks, food and family. Exchanging gifts, spending time with the most special people in my life and just having some time to really reflect on the year gone by, whether it be good, bad or downright ugly. 

So, I'm currently wrapped up in bed watching QI and Mock The Week repeats and humming along to a Christmas song I can't even place now. A smile is resting ever so slightly on my lips. Four days to go. A matter of hours. The shops are going mad. Everyone is frantic. Wrapping paper, cellotape and batteries have never been in higher demand. There's so many fairy lights donned around some streets that it's only a matter of time until they fuse the national grid or the leccy company shut them off as a sign of bad will. 

I'm making Christmas Eve plans to go out, for the first time ever. The first year I'm celebrating Christmas no longer a teenager. Heidi's first Christmas. The first time I've been really unprepared, and I have to be honest, I'm nowhere near as excited as I should be. Fair enough, I'm the big 2-0 now, but still. It's still a special time of year, and I'm thinking of changing my name to Ebenezer unless I start slapping a smile on my face and feeling the spirit. (And no, that's not alcoholic spirit, to my dismay.) The counting has truly begun, everyone is having the will-it/won't-it snow debate and waiting for 25th with bated breath, butterflies and the occasional beer. 

I'm getting there. There's nothing better than spending three days straight with your family talking and reminiscing and exchanging gifts and drinking and eating your own body weight in gorgeous food. 2013 has had it's ups and downs, highs and lows, and I don't know whether I should be nostalgic or relieved to see the back of it. I lost someone special this year, made a hell of a lot of bad choices, and a few good ones. I've made friends and the occasional enemy. I've had a lot of firsts, and hopefully not any lasts. I love and cherish everyone in my life, and I never want to lose them. So, here's to you all. If you're even half as happy as me come Christmas Day, you'll have a wonderful time I'm sure. Whatever you're doing, whether it's a wild party, or a quiet affair, a family reunion or just a peaceful close-knit Christmas, enjoy it. Appreciate everything, especially this time of year. So pens down people, it's officially on it's way. Turn the music on, the heating up and crack open the alcohol. Now that's an entirely different meaning to a merry Christmas. 

x

Duffy Moon did it!

Okay it's 5 to five, I've been up about twelve hours already. Exhausted, stressed to death, totally and utterly worn out. My heels are trailing, my eyelids are dropping and all I want is a massive Chinese and a strong drink, and a spooning partner. Sounds blissful to me. Today was one of the most stressful days of my life so far. My first real degree-level (if you actually call it that) exam that counts towards my final grade, and the last day of my first semester as a second-year student at Northumbria uni. Don't get me wrong, I can't fault it, it's just I'm so stressy that it's got me really down lately, but that's more of a personal problem than something to do with my degree itself. 

So today is, as many, if not all of you know, Friday 13th and as of yet, *touch wood* I haven't experienced anything other than extremely good luck. My exam went well, to my utmost relief, I calmed myself down and did what I believed was my best. I collected my two assignments and got 2:1s in both, which I'm so happy about. I'm finally, it seems, able to breathe again. I've felt so suffocated as of late, and it had got to the point of total utter misery. With some wonderful people to cheer me up, encourage me, and hand me the occasional drink (or revision notes) I got through it. I made it. I did what I was stressing so much about. Panic stations weren't necessary. My phone has been inundated with "good luck" followed by "well done" and "I knew you could do it!" And of course, the special one off my grandma Juney, which reads "hope the exam went ok. You CAN do it Duffy Moon!" so, I guess she's right, I can and hopefully, I have. 

Eventually home, after exams, assignment collection and a few too many intense hours of Christmas shopping, I'm now lying sprawled lazily on my bed, staring at the ceiling feeling happy and dazed.  I have no plans for tonight even though I've spent all week striving to make some involving a disgusting amount of alcohol, but I'm kinda okay with that. I'm tired and hungry, and chilling may seem like the perfect way to end a very stressful, important day for me. Tomorrow, that means, I'm getting drunk and stupid, with some lush people, so if you are reading this and not planning to be out getting messy with me tomorrow, I'd really like you to. Certain people definitely are who I have in mind. So, lazy time today and celebrations tomorrow. I can't wait to just sit back and enjoy Christmas festivities surrounded by people I know and love (my dad says I'm soppy, he's so right isn't he?) I'm so happy right now, I feel like I'm spaced out, but in a good way. I haven't really come to terms with the fact that I have the next seven weeks off, to do what I like, socialise and just see the new year in in style. Plus, there's someone who could really potentially make me very happy (soppy alert again) so I'm feeling overly optimistic, and yes, I promise I'm not under the influence narcotics of any kind, I just am genuinely happy.