Behind.

             

Gosh, I'm a rubbish writer when I'm happy. I always say that. I can't write when I'm caught up in my own lovely life with a grin on my face and a spring in my step. But instead, it's when I'm at my lowest that I manage to do some of my most heartfelt writing. Weird, and kind of awkward too. 

Hence my dilemma. I've just noticed my blog count for 2014. At the minute it's 105 posts short of 2013's. Fair enough, last year was my first year of blogging, but still. This year's is a poor effort, and for funny, happy reasons. 

I've found myself too preoccupied with the good things in my life to stop for breath and time to type something up. Okay. It's 23:56 on Wednesday 29th October. As part of my CWP for uni, I intend to smash last year's blog count. 105 to go to level it. Ish. Some more to out-do it. In under two months.

Let's do this. I'll write everything. This is my blog. And it's what I'm supposed to do. Especially if I'm going to be a writer someday.

forever the party animal, never the absentee.

                

I don't want to miss a single second of it. A breath, a smile, a grin or grimace. A tear resentfully shed. A punch-up, a drunken night, a brawl, a conversation, an inside joke. I have the ultimate bad habit. I have the Fear Of Missing Out. Symptoms of which include; not being able to say the word "no" forcefully or meaningfully, declining any social arrangements that will cost you money you simply don't have, or turning down an invitation just because you can't bare to miss out on the excitement. 

I hate it. I HATE staying in when all my friends are at the pub drinking vodka. I HATE having to decline invitations to things I really want to go to. I HATE the feeling of regret when everyone you know goes out/makes plans/does something without you, and spends a considerable, somewhat obscene, and not to mention, insensitive amounts of time talking and reminiscing about it. 

This is why I have no self control. I would rather I didn't get invited somewhere than knowing I'd have to decline the invite altogether. I need to work on that. I keep choosing tequila over essays and sambuca over studying. Uh-oh.