What doesn't kill you.

We all have bad days. Days where we want to just scream, and spend every waking moment just wishing and longing for the time when we can finally crawl lovingly back into bed and hide under the covers, away from the world. Yesterday was one of those days. I wanted to scream into a pillow, throw a tantrum, jump up and down like a raving lunatic, and when all of that failed, I wanted to cry. Not a sly, private few tears, but something messy. Needed. I felt like I was on the edge of a breakdown all day long. I had to bite back tears or bitter words during my 90-min poetry seminar for the good of my degree, and my mental health. I can't even explain it. It was just a day I wasn't ready for, wasn't prepared for, wasn't happy to take part in at all. Reason: I have absolutely no idea. I tried eating healthily, and when that failed, I turned to comfort food. Coffee, and lots of it. Chocolate, no. Didn't work. A calming, steaming shower. No. My family, friends, everyone trying to make me feel better, and to no avail. Unfortunately. Like I knew, the only thing j needed/wanted/craved was my bed. The only time I felt relaxed at all yesterday was when I crawled into my bed and burried myself under a winter-weight duvet. A sigh of relief escaped me. A weight felt like it had been lifted off my shoulders. I was me again. The ticking time bomb of Monday daytime was gone, in seconds. I can't explain it. Sometimes, you just need a break, from life. Those days, are most definitely meant to be spent in bed. 

Today has been better. Actually, today has been relatively good. Sunny, carefree, lucky almost, except one glitch. I'm having (or was having) a fat day. An ugly day. As a girl who has never really been aware of her own "prettiness" or whatever you want to call it, I find it hard to think that anyone could ever look at me and see, I dunno, someone attractive. Even when I have my best dress on, and skyscraper heels and a tonne of make up (although this is when I do feel at my most confident) I don't picture myself in that way. And it's all because of days like this. Bad skin days, hair days, general feeling fat and ugly and bleugh days. Of course they make me question what other people see when they look at me. I don't think I fit the bill or whatever. Funny thing is, there's someone who thinks I do. And then eveything; the doubts, the fat days, the hiding under duvets, well, that all fades away when I hear his name. Having good people in your life makes bad days tolerable and good days wonderful. 

All Hallows' Eve.

It's here, finally. Well, in just over an hour anyway. One of the most widely celebrated, yet not-totally-religious festivals in the northern hemisphere. Hallowe'en, as it is originally punctuated, is a festival to, supposedly, celebrate those who are no longer living, as well as those who died in vain; the martyrs of our time. Some people say it has Christian or Pagan roots, although this is open to intepretation. All Hallows' Eve/Halloween/the day of the dead, whatever you call it or have come to know it as, in this day and age, here, in England, in 2013, we have a modern tradition of our own. Usually, children dress up in "spooky" costumes and head to parties to take part in apple bobbing, carving pumpkins and general ghost-hunting pursuits. However, I don't know when this came about, but now, it's kind of fashionable for adults to do it too. Except, the parties with creepy fruit punches and spiders webs are replaced with vodka and other hard liquor. The trick-or-treating aspect replaced by partying in bars and clubs. The funny, cute and softly-scary outfits made for the youngsters take a dramatic turn when you hit the big 1-8 destination of adulthood. Halloween is a whole other kettle of fish (or cauldron of apples) when you reach a certain age. The masks/outfits go from scary to macabre, funny to ironic, cute to slutty, faster than you can say "Trick-or-treat." The cleverer your outfit is, the shorter your skirt is, or the more dead you look, the higher your Halloween credentials are. Everyone who's anyone wants to go out for Halloween, I've found. 

As a rookie to this, I'm a bit unprepared. I've never, as an adult and moreover, as a uni student, been out in town in full-on Halloween fancy dress. I've always wanted to, but for some unexplainable reason, I never have. I've been out in fancy dress before, sure, but not with the same hype surrounding it. So at 20 years old, I'm ready (and very excited) to be doing it tomorrow for Halloween for the very first time since I went to discos and parties when I was about nine or ten. It will certainly be an experience, surrounded by hundreds, if not thousands of uni students all sporting their best Halloween face paints, SCREAM masks and costumes maxed out with wasted, misunderstood irony. This is what I love and yet hate about going to uni locally, in Newcastle. It's party central. Every single night. But, especially on occasions. Tomorrow night, there will be queues everywhere for miles. Hundreds of girls freezing their arses off in too-short tutus and lots of eyeliner, while zombie-clad lads stare on in a mixture of amazement and disbelief. Then again, wouldn't change it for the world. And in good spirits, and fishnet tights, I'm ready to embrace a new tradition! So, best get my pirate outfit at the ready, rip my fishnets and white-out my face. Get ribbons for my buckaneer jacket, sort my garter and make sure the black lippy is always at hand for a touch-up as and when. Just stayin' I've got a feeling tomorrow will be kind of amazing, and also, as it should be, pretty fucking scary. 

Masks, face paints, stockings, leotards, wigs, eye patches, onesies, whatever.. At the ready. ALL HALLOWS EVE IS READY AND WAITING GUYS. Hope you don't scare too easily. 

Kisses. 

-A 

 

(I couldn't resist. If you get this ref. let me know!!!) 

NaNoWriMo: Challenge accepted.

I've done it. I've signed myself up to NaNoWriMo (or in normal, English-speaking sense National Novel Writing Month.) The task, for those of you who are unfamiliar with it, challenges participants to write 50,000 words over the course of 30-days, in particular, the month of November. Users can write anything they desire; there are no thematic constraints or subjects that appear taboo. You are 'a winner' if you succeed in reaching their 50,000 word goal in the thirty day time frame. It is a challenge aimed at creative individuals, aspiring writers, or people who just want to be able to say "yeah well, I wrote a novel last month." I can't decide which one of these categories I fall into. I must note straight away, I'm a novice. An amateur. I've never even been on the NaNoWriMo website until about 8 minutes ago, so I'm pretty psyched, but also pretty effing scared. It was a bit of an impulsive decision to say the least. I want to be able to have something to show for my degree course skills I'm currently pursuing, as well as test myself to see if I in fact do have the discipline to write a novel in just a month. I've never attempted anything so ambitious as this, and I'm kinda worried I'll a) descent into misery and procrastination and failure b) end up writing drunk into the early hours and make no sense or c) get so stressed I'll end up quitting. I really hope none of these things happen. I'm kind of determined. I don't give up when I put my mind to something, so that's sort of promising I suppose.

I have James Blunt's new album playing via Spotify right now. Maybe I'll get inspired. PS. I don't even have a plot outline, oh my god. I've got 34 hours and 16 minutes to dream up an idea, characters, and prep everything before the clock strikes (00:00 GMT) on November 1st. Ready or not, my novel is coming.

Smiles all round.

I wonder if you know I'm lying in bed grinning from ear-to-ear. Smiling so profusely down at the white glow coming from my phone. It's been a long time since I've smiled like this. That sickly-sweet butterflies feeling. Waking up in the morning and knowing my day will get better as soon as I hear from you. When did I get all soppy? God knows, probably amidst turning into an adult and downing sambuca as if I was putting out a fire. Happy times, happy things, happy little me. 

Against all odds.

I'm smiling. It's almost Monday. I've got too much work to do. I've got an incessant cough that just won't let up. There's a hurricane approaching, and yet, I'm still smiling. Only some people will understand the Phil Collins reference, but that really doesn't matter really. I'm smiling so much my face hurts. It's amazing what happens when you let go. More often than not, the risk is worth taking. More often than you ever think, there's someone pretty amazing waiting to catch you.

Common ground.

So what if you aren't both athletic, musical, arty? Common ground, well, maybe it's more than just something to be seen with the naked eye. You don't have to share the same taste in music, have your priorities (and your clocks) lined up in perfect parallels like Monica and Richard. There's nothing to say that two people can't get along swimmingly, even if they are totally different. Newsflash: no two people are the same. You may share physical similarities, emotional echoes of one another, or even a shared love of Mozart or Fitzgerald, but what does it really matter? Some of the little things are what bring people together, not the big things. The fact you secretly both like the same Disney film, or that you have a mutual understanding of what you really want out of life. The similar love for comedy, or appreciating that you are one anothers' crutch, as and when. People go hand-in-hand, who are, in fact, poles apart in terms of personality. The further you are away from one another with regards to your "self", maybe the more compatible you are? Friendships and relationships aren't always founded on familiar territory, and maybe it doesn't benefit after all. Maybe your polar opposite could be your best friend or the love of your life. Perhaps we are too concerned with our similarities that we forget to celebrate what makes us us, our differences. 

I don't have the words.

I'm feeling really down about my blog lately. I can't explain it. I just feel like I'm wasting my time. I feel like I'm screaming into a void. A dark, lonely vacuum, so someone tell me, what's the point? I don't blog for anyone, it's my baby, no one else's, so why am I feeling like this? A very intense feeling of writer's block can't be shifted and I'm ready to hit my head off a brick wall until the imprint is left on my forehead and I'm in pain. I can write. I write all of the time. I'm doing a bloody writing degree, so why when I've got so much I want and need to do, can I not find the words? I've lost any sense of intellect, inspiration or eloquence I had in the past. I'm just not able to piece together my thoughts lately, and I'm not happy about it. How do I break out of writer's block? I need to. Desperate pleas.