You're never too old for a new start.

Well I've done it. I've finally come reluctantly into the 21st Century, the modern age, the blogging phenomena. I'm actually (yes) blogging from my brand-spanking-new iPhone! It feels weird to be doing it, after all I've kind of come to associate blogging with my lovely little laptop. It's funny to think I'm now able to write on-the-go and post a thought immediately. It's kind of cute anyway in my eyes.

So, summer is drawing sadly to a close, and as every second ticks on, I realise that I'm one reluctant step closer to turning the horrendously big 2-0. However, there are upsides to this. As autumn approaches, so does the new uni semester, meaning that I get to see my three fave girls again, which I'm super excited about. (Hiya girls!) The workload, well, you can practically hear my brain sighing lazily as I even just mull over the idea. But then I guess the good things in life usually (we hope) outweigh the bad. Meaning this; when winter draws bitterly in, we'll appreciate the summer more when it arrives again next year as promised. When it rains, we know the heavy downpours are only temporary and its only a matter of time until it lets up. Sadness makes us realise how happy we usually are, loneliness makes us appreciate company and loss makes us grab love between our fists like an iron vice. 

So come at me winter. I'm ready, with my Hunter wellies and my parka, for anything you can throw at me. I'm ready to kiss goodbye to sunny nights and embrace cosiness and thick duvets for a few cold months. There's no reason for me to be unhappy any longer.

Kisses

x

(I had to add a cheeky little PLL reference in there, I mean OMG!)

Mine's a coffee.

As I stand waiting, less than patiently in the queue in Starbucks, on a rainy Monday morning, there's only one thing that is keeping me from a violent outburst. The sweet aroma of my favourite thing ever. Coffee. As the smell of freshly ground coffee beans drifts past me, I feel me lips curl up into a sort-of smile. My fuel for the day. My drug of choice. My poison. The pick-me-up I am forever craving. The addiction I am somewhat proud of, and of course, the thing that quickly, effortlessly transforms me from murderous bitch to normal, civil human being. A quick shot of caffeine flowing intravenously through my veins and I'm capable of anything. It's like I'm Jekyll and Hyde and with caffeine, rather than some weird concoction of narcotics and potions. I'm transformed into the better person, my better self. I feel myself itching for a fix, like an addict displaying first stage withdrawal symptoms. A pounding headache, a dry mouth and an overwhelming sense of need. I'm really no good without it.

Bank Holiday banter.

No matter what you're drinking, raise your glass.

It's well known, I consider drinking one of my hobbies. Yes. Seriously. My little 5"2 self always fancies having a couple of drinks. Translation: getting absolutely, painfully, stupidly, hysterically, blind drunk. It's not advisable, but hey, I've got a reason this time. If you haven't guessed, or known already, it is officially BHW or in English, Bank Holiday Weekend. One of my favourite times of year. There's been far too many bank holidays for my liver to handle or my body to cope with this year, but I have to give credit where it's due. Silly as it sounds, but my local watering holes have actually served other purposes, minus exchanging my crumpled notes for poisonous, amazing liquids.


Yes, I spend a great deal of my time between one or two pubs in particular. Anyone who knows me is now thinking of the names in their heads. I'm a local. A regular. The bouncers know my name. It's serious. But for me, it's a lot more than that. Since turning the legal age of 18, but especially the big 1-9, these places have been significant for me. If those walls could talk, the stories they'd whisper would probably ruin my life, but that's another story. These places have witnessed friendships broken and made, relationships starting and ferociously ending and drunken antics in full-swing. They've seen me at my best, looking sober, happy, and other times, in tears, in pieces. They've heard some home truths and some of the biggest lies I've ever told. They've glimpsed at stolen kisses, raging fights and full-blown arguments, and not judged. There's been tequila and sambuca and jagerbombs and lots and lots of vodka flowing. The discovery of Desperados, "two for £5, thank you very much." Pints of absolutely anything, pitchers of whatever we could lay our hands on, absolutely anything that provides for partying fuel. Our poisons, our refreshments, our liquid energy. The good times, the bad times, and the downright unspeakable times. I've had some brilliant laughs there, occasional heartache and made far too many legal mistakes.

Despite this, I truly think there probably isn't a time that I'm happier than when I'm all glammed up, heels in tow, crisp £20 notes stowed-away in my purse, fresh from the cashpoint just ten minutes previously. A drink in my hand, meeting my friends at the bar. A catch-up, a social gathering, a few laughs, or a total binge. Whatever the occasion, we're there. This weekend, will be bank holiday. I've never missed going out on a bank hol since I turned eighteen, and I'm not about to now, even if I have to be up early on Monday morning. (reason: I'm going to Leeds.) I'm excited, and happy, and actually starting to think my life is surrounded by positivity.

I'm not saying I only have a good time when I'm drunk, because that's really daft. I'm just saying, alcohol may be the foundation of some of my greatest friendships ever. For example, as I'm writing this, my friend Sarah and I are contemplating sobriety until Sunday. We wonder, via text, whether we can stay teetotal for necessity, rather than preference. So I'm ready to go crazy, have the time of my life and languish in knowing that this Sunday will be the last of the year. I'm slightly saddened by this. Bank Holidays bring everyone at home together. We usually all flock back from uni, everyone urgently attempts to get time off work, and all other non-alcohol-fuelled plans are abandoned. This is a time to celebrate everything that's good in our lives, and forget, even just for one night, what isn't going so well. In my book it is, anyway.

So, cheers everyone! I hope you all have an amazing weekend. I hope you're all happy and drunk and smiling on Sunday. I know I will be. Surrounded by some of my favourite people, there's nothing better. I'll know then, with a drink in my grasp, that at least for then, V-O-D-K-A really does spell happiness.  Not for what it is, but for what it represents.

Call me Duffy Moon.

"you can do it, duffy moon." -JJ.

The girl with the wry smile that creeps slowly across her face when no one is looking. The one who just disappears for hours with no explanation and returns later, expressing too many emotions to put your finger on. She spends her time reading and writing. It's not only her passion, but it's her escape. When life in the real world gets too much, that's what she does, and it's kind of perfect. Shut the doors, shut everyone out, and indulge in a passion that will continue long after she's gone. It's hopeful and endearing and dangerous all at once. Those pages hide so many secrets, so many lies, so many passions. Those words aren't just dreamed up, they are her dreams. What she writes, is what she envisages in her own future. That's her way of putting her dreams into reality. Making it physical. Putting it down on paper. Maybe it's not everyone's idea of dreaming, but it's hers. It's all she's wanted for as long as she can remember, and if she doesn't get it, she doesn't know what she'll do. She never stops writing. There's always something to write about. It doesn't matter that every piece she writes isn't up to publishing scratch. It's not for them, she writes because she needs to. Approval isn't necessary, from them, from you, from anyone. But if you do, even better. That girl will always be a dreamer. She's destined for big things. Huge things. That notebook by her bedside harbours her deepest desires and her biggest secrets, and some of the greatest 3am ideas anyone has ever had. All you need to do is remember this name, you'll see it in flashing lights one day. Duffy Moon.

My wish list.

Yes, another list. What a surprise. This time, I'm writing a wish list. Things I want right now. Things that, at this precise moment, would make me happy, turn that straight face into a smiling, refreshed one. So, the moment of truth, what are they?

1. an iPhone. Yes. I feel totally out of the loop with my BlackBerry perched less than lovingly on my knee right now. I loved it once, but the love affair ended when all of my friends, family and even mere acquaintances started to get updates. The iPhone. And now, like every other typical, naive, gullible consumer, I want one too. I feel left out, I feel boring. I feel like this is exactly what I need in my life now to step my positivity up a notch. I want the works, the whole shebang. The apps, the snap-chatting and the Instagram. All of the things that non-iPhone users get bombarded with daily all across the internet. Call me materialistic, I probably am. I'd really like one though.

2. Coffee. This will always be one. There isn't enough coffee in my life ever. Even as I sit with a coffee by my bedside right now, I'm thinking of my next opportunity to venture downstairs, into the kitchen and boil the kettle for what will be the fifth time today.

3. Nail varnish that doesn't chip. And dries as quickly as it claims. A girly want, obviously. It's my pet-hate. Quick dry nail varnish that doesn't actually do what it says, then you end up with it everywhere. Or, I do anyway. Maybe that's just a sign that I'm far too impatient, I dunno.

4. A plane ticket to New York. This one is probably a given too. My cousin Sophie and I spend far too many hours each week contemplating when we will actually, finally, hopefully get ourselves to NYC. The latest verdict is that we'll go in 5 years when Sophie is 21, so we can actually fully enjoy The Big Apple. It will happen, I assure you. Soon though, probably not.

5. A decent night's sleep. I'm not feeling too good, and haven't been for almost a week now. Although I'm in recovery, I still feel like I haven't had what I'd class as a decent night's sleep in forever. It's well overdue, and in high demand.

6. A pair of Levi jeans. I've harped on about this forever. To my family, my friends, and all of my Twitter followers. I have a craving for some, although I can't really finance my shopaholic tendencies just yet.

7. A lottery win. Again, this one is a dead giveaway. Most people want this, and the people who don't, well, it must be fine and dandy to think you've got more than enough money to be able to decline a lottery win. Btw, I'm talking about a proper lottery win, like the kind you sell your house for, the kind that changes your life and enables you to buy a holiday home somewhere exotic. I fantasize about this moment. A lot.

8. To be happy. Oh good god, shoot me already! Is that a cliché I've just spat out? Oh dear, Eleanor, Eleanor, Eleanor. Now that was stupid, wasn't it? I might as well get a teardrop tattooed right now. I mean, it's like an unspoken rule. Everyone wants happiness, but actually voicing it out loud, maybe that's the biggest taboo of all. It's like, everyone feels the same towards that little thing we call happiness. But if it's so simple, why does it seem so, I dunno, unattainable, so out of our grasp? Maybe that's just me, with my negative attitude and my ability to mess up things so easily.

9. Fame. Okay. Scratch the previous entry, this one here may be the real taboo. I've admitted something here I never thought I would. See: previous post. I've blogged about, talked about it, wrote about it. The fact that, in my eyes, wanting to be famous is like choosing to get into a car you know is going to crash. It's risky, it's ill-advised, and in most events, really stupid. It's not even ambitious, it's just naive. It's like hoping it doesn't happen, hoping for the best even though you truly know it's against all odds. So, yes. I've decided, after a long, hard think, this is what I want. I want fame, fortune and everything that I so bitterly despised a few months back. I want my name in flashing, gaudy, florescent lights, I want the money, the success, the infamy. You're now wondering, how, yeah? Well, I want to write. I want to be a writer. Whether that means in novels, newspapers or any other sort of journalism, that's what I want. I haven't gone all specific yet, I'm keeping my options open, but that's what I really want. I know it is. It's just an instinct. I want fame, and going into my second year of University, I'm more ready than I'll ever be, to grab it with both hands, and never let go. I'm ready for you fame, I'll take everything you throw at me. As long as you keep your part of the bargain.

Pendulum.

(Btw, this post has been posted like 20 hours later than it was written.)

It's nearing midnight and I've already been in bed, trying, somewhat hopelessly to make myself feel better. I'm experiencing such an awful cold. My chest feels like it will cave in at any moment, and my smoker-like cough isn't helping, despite the fact I've never ever touched a cigarette. It's exhausting. I keep temporarily losing my voice and become able to do that husky/whispery/creepy voice like Voldemort. Humorous at times, but the funny side begins to run thin when you're in as much pain as I am. I guess I have myself to blame, partly, and partly my stupidly, newly-weakened immune system, but I guess I can't always go around blaming biology when I mistreat my body as much as I have been. I'm armed with my iPod, 861 songs, god knows how many hours of music at my fingertips and strumming into my ears. Willing to try anything to make myself sleep now. I've had texting marathons, scoured Twitter for hours, watched the Friends two-hour finale and snippets from Peter Kay's Tour That Didn't Tour Tour (which I also can quote word-for-word!) I've doped up on painkillers, cough sweets and caffeine, and they haven't worked either.

So...Why is it partly down to me? What have I been up to to get myself in such a mess? My untimely, hideously rough state...Well. Little old me who vowed (stupidly, naively, hopelessly) to stay in on Friday night for a (miraculous) change, ended up out. Obviously. Anyone who knows me, knows I do not stay in on a Friday night, like, ever. Yes, I can sense your surprise already. Major shock. You best take a sear, we don't want you fainting on me now do we? There's a certain irony around the fact that I'm an English student and yet I don't seem to grasp the meaning of "just a few drinks." I'm a very much all-or-nothing kinda girl. Not just with alcohol, with everything. I'm either hysterically upset and depressed and moody and sad and hateful, or I'm happy and high and smiley and loving and totally giddy. I either am (only occasionally) really careful with my money, or I manage to splurge every penny I have in my purse in ten minutes flat. I'm either quiet or really very loud. I either go bitchy or seriously nice. I went from being a shy girl to an overly-friendly drunk. How? I was introduced to a lovely little thing the Russians named Vodka. Cue my shy self to sometimes disperse completely, and my overly-friendly self to put in a sometimes unwelcome appearance.

I know what you're thinking; "okay, everyone's more confident when they've had a drink" or ten. Yes, that's why they call it dutch courage. Well, I'm certainly a shining example of what the effects of alcohol really are. If you're reading this and judging me, and ready to brand me an alcohol abuser, go ahead. You're wasting your breath, and energy. :) Anyway, yes, I have a tendency to drink too much, but I'm a student, it's part of the deal you sign when you apply with UCAS. (okay, it's an unspoken rule.) Anyhow, I tend to be what the Oxford Dictionary know as a "lightweight." I go from sober to drunk in the blink of an eye. I don't know why, but it's very rare I build up to a "drunk" state. I just somehow happen to arrive there, slightly clumsily, and without very little dignity in sight. I mean, suddenly you find yourself on your own, separated from friends, and it hits you. Everything goes blurry and seems to speed up then slow down and it's as if everything's out of sync or something. A very good, or a very bad feeling, depending on who you are and what your opinion actually is.

So, how does this relate to the post's title? Well, I got to thinking of a metaphor for my latest life events. Yes, it all sounds very geeky and deep and profound. I assure you that it doesn't tally. At first, I played around with the whole train-wreck/car crash image, but those were too miserable, too negative for what I was trying to convey. I mean, at times, yes, I suppose that applies, but my life isn't a constant train-wreck. I'm not always left picking up the pieces, hurt or distraught. And that's when it hit me. Literally. A pendulum. A pendulum, for anyone who actually doesn't know, swings backwards and forwards, according to the earth's gravitational pull. It is a constant. It carries on going. It is continuous, until it draws to a close, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. Surely that's like life, yeah? Also, it's kind of funny in my eyes that the word 'pendulum', derived from the New Latin 'pendulus' to mean 'hanging.' Yes. I'm not totally stupid, I know it means a literal form of hanging, as in, to be suspended from a height or a cord or something, but there's another meaning I'm probably more familiar with. 'Hanging' the slang use, to mean the verb of hungover.  Therefore, in my little, messed-up, slightly mad head, my life is like a pendulum. It rocks backwards and forwards. Sometimes the movements are easy and the action takes no effort at all, and other times, it's hard, difficult. The forces are imbalanced, everything seems a struggle. It's just like Monday mornings in physical action form, ey?

Anyway, that's my thing. That's my theory. I'm a pendulum. We all keep swinging. Swaying. Continuing. Life is just like the movement of a pendulum. The glitches are very evident sometimes, and other times you barely notice the faltering. If you hit something, it hits back. The domino effect. But always, the pendulum continues, despite what happens. Despite what obstacles it encounters. We carry on in life, no matter what troubles and problems we encounter. The bad days are balanced by the good days, the tears are comforted by the smiles and the laughter. And always, we carry on moving. Until, we don't.

I don't like today much.

It's Saturday, and I've done it again. Spent the night before pouring alcohol down my neck like I was getting paid to, and yet coming home with 25p. Yes. And managed to upset someone I really didn't want to. Arguments, tears and tantrums. Last night's themes. I've got a post-Friday night hangover and such an awful cough I sound like I'm a 40-a-day smoker, and I've never touched a cigarette. I'm feeling so guilty, so bitchy, so...nasty. I don't feel like me today. I feel like someone else. Sitting in my room, blasting party-ish music as some sort of motivational attempt to convince myself, and my liver, that I can actually hack hitting Sunderland tonight for Betty's birthday celebrations. I drink too much. I feel hideous. I don't look much better. This is all stupid and disjointed, because I'm half-hungover, half genuinely ill, although no one in my house seems to fathom the 'genuine' part. I wonder why.
 
I'm drowning out the bad stuff. Or attempting it anyway. Life, I guess, goes on, whether you're happy or unhappy, upset or angry. I guess the bad times make the good times even better. I wish I was an optimist. I wish I was a glass-half-full kind of person, but I'm really not. I don't even get the concept. I love everyone in my life right now. Why is it that the nice people get screwed over and I end up trusting the ones I shouldn't?

My head is well-and-truly battered. I smell like a brewery and I feel like I'm still slurring my words. I've only had like three and a half hours sleep and I don't know how much longer I can last before I drift into a deep, deep sleep mid-sentence. I'm feeling the 'horrible person' vibe today. I don't know what to do with it. Advice is being thrown at me left, right and centre, but I guess I have to, and do make my own decisions. Whether they're good or bad, will remain to be seen. I'm forgetting everything for now. I'm going to slap some make up on, to make myself look less like an extra from a zombie film and more like a human being, albeit a very unwell one. Things get better in time. Apologies wear thin, but they don't lose their sentiment. Well, mine don't anyway. I'm just saying.

I'm going for a Nando's. I need comfort food.
#bingeeaterandbingedrinker