I’ve recently taken up journaling again, so I thought I would try something new after remembering the phrase ‘honest to blog’ from the movie, Juno. I don’t know if this will be a regular segment, but I thought I would give it a go anyway.
I write mostly in a stream of consciousness when it comes to journaling, so keep that in mind if I go slightly off track.
I’ve got Spotify playing in the background, – because I can’t write without music – and I realized that I’ve never even heard of eighty percent of the UK Top 20. I’ve noticed recently that I’ve left a lot of that behind; keeping up to date with music and TV trends. Like, sure, I watch Game of Thrones – but I haven’t even started Season 7. And I don’t know about all this rivalry between pop stars, or who all these seemingly young pop-hipster-wannabes are in the charts. They all look the same.
Actually, everyone looks the same these days! I was walking through town the other day, and saw several (individual girls – not in a weird group where they basically clone each other and call themselves a ‘squad’); and they were all wearing ripped denim jeans, a white t-shirt of some kind, and an oversized denim jacket. If it hadn’t been for the different hair colours and styles, I wouldn’t have noticed they weren’t the same girl. Strange, how I still call anyone under the age of thirty, a girl. I’m not a girl, I’m a woman, and yet I still don’t feel old enough to be a woman, or a grown up, or anything really. I feel like my first year was five minutes ago, and five years (like it actually was), all at once.
Strange, how I still call anyone under the age of thirty, a girl. I’m not a girl, I’m a woman, and yet I still don’t feel old enough to be a woman, or a grown up, or anything really. I feel like my first year was five minutes ago, and five years (like it actually was), all at once.
I’m getting nervous about going back to do my Master’s, Two years out of education has taken its toll on me. I never read or write anymore. I just work, eat, sleep, and watch YouTube and Netflix. My book-buying habit has swapped for junk food, makeup, and clothes.
I was going through some clothes the other day and found loads of old jumpers from my uni days, and I was smacked with nostalgia for autumn, and cold nights huddled up in my room studying. Or curling up with a good book so late into the night until I couldn’t even keep my eyes open. Back in the days when I had a desktop, not a laptop. I couldn’t afford anything, and yet I felt rich. Now, I’ve landed a decent job with the best money I’ve ever made, and yet I’m always broke. Always spending on things I don’t need to. Yet, back in the day, (oh, as if uni was decades ago!) deciding whether I wanted to treat myself to MacDonalds or a new book; a book would always win. When Amazon delivered a new book every other day. When my student loans were exclusively spent in Wetherspoons, ASDA, and charity shops.
Strange, how this is the most I have written in weeks, on a day where I’m feeling a little lost, a little selfish and a little-too-ready to question everything about my life. Waiting for the boy I like to make his mind up. Waiting for my Master’s degree to start. Waiting for the better, brighter version of me to come back. Waiting for the passion to return to my life. Missing my friends, my care-free-study-hard lifestyle to return, if only for a brief moment. I guess I’m waiting for the monotony to end.
Over and out,