Long Time No Write

Long Time No Write

Aww man, I’m rusty – I’m RUSTY! Beginning a blog has never taken me this long before. I usually love the beginnings. They come so easy, so naturally, but today it’s like finding invisible pearls in a mammoth bucket of oysters.

God, my analogies have got pretty bad as well.

It’s not that I haven’t been writing. I’ve actually been attempting to write a novel. I don’t know if it’s any good. Well, it’s probably shit, but it’s been a mixture of highs and lows, if I’m honest. Like sometimes, I just can’t stop writing. I’m writing and writing and writing and I’m getting all flustered and excited and I think that I’m a genius, but then I read over it and I want to jump on my computer and kill myself.

Writer’s block’s a bitch as well. I find tea always helps, and if tea fails to spark some inspiration then wine is the next logical step.

But other than writing and drinking tea and then sometimes wine, I’ve been attempting to be a proper grown-up. There was actually a spell where I didn’t write at all. You see, in August I started a real, full-time job and I’ve never been good with change. I’m a creature of habit who dreams of change, but when it inevitably comes, I end up having to hide behind books and locking myself in cubicles at lunchtime. I never learn, either. Whenever I reach the end of some sort of phase of life, I find myself dreaming of the next stage, all excited and counting down the seconds, and then the next stage arrives and, like I said, it’s books and cubicles for a while.

Beginning work was like that. It was a bit embarrassing, really. I couldn’t sleep; if I tried to have something to eat before going to work, I would throw it all back up; I would get drunk and cry (and I’m always such a happy drunk); I couldn’t put down Harry Potter (my ultimate comfort read), and I had a million kazillion meltdowns. My boyfriend was like, Who are you and what have you done with my cool, hip girlfriend?!?!?! Ok, I’d probably never been cool and hip, but I definitely managed to hide the majority of my crazy from him up until that point. But good news, he’s still with me!!!!! I must be awesome at blowjobs.

(Ha, I’m actually really bad at them – my gag reflex is way too active for those kinds of shenanigans).

Aaaanyway, I soon got over the crazy and now, I am LOVING LIFE. (Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be a my-life-is-so-awesome kind of blog; I’m still working in a reception on minimum wage for 9 hours a day and having to deal with the most snobby people I have ever met). But honestly, I’m just grateful to have left University. I feel like such a middle class spoiled brat who takes her education for granted when I say this, but I really, really, really, really, didn’t like it there. Not even a little bit. Students terrified me, the work terrified me, tutors terrified me, the buildings were too fancy, the library too big and you needed a degree just to figure out how to work the cafeteria.

I don’t know why I didn’t leave. I mean, I guess it’s good to have a degree, but I feel like such a fraud. No, I’m definitely glad I stayed and got through it, but at the same time, it SUCKED. ASS. I get that for some people, it’s the best place in the world to be, but I wasn’t a student and I’ve never really been one, if I’m honest. I loved school, but I always had such nice teachers who let me read and write pretty much whatever I wanted. It was not like that at University. Actually, that’s a lie. There was one tutor who was the absolute bees knees. I think he hated University as much as me – Mr Paddy Lyons. He was probably one of the scariest tutors in the place, but for some reason, I was never scared or nervous about his tutorials. I’d watch him make students cry and be like, Yeeeah, go Padster. He seemed to be the only English tutor who actually cared about stories.

At work, I’m the only one who works in reception who has a degree and yet I’m the one who makes the most mistakes. I’m honestly the worst receptionist there’s ever been. It’s turned into a running joke. I forget to pass on messages, still don’t really know how to transfer calls, bin things I don’t know what to do with, and shred paper I don’t like the look of. I’m hopeful that one day, this whole reception lark will click into place, but until then I’ll continue to cause mayhem.

I’ve been told it’s not normal to get on so well with your colleagues. I asked them the other day – that if every job was like this one. And they all said no. That this is the only job they’ve had where everyone actually really likes each other. I think it works because everyone is their complete, crazy self. I’d love to go into detail, but that would be a little unprofessional.

We had a girls night out on Saturday. We went to see Dream Boys – a big, muscly strip show. I’d never seen so many willies before. I was actually petrified. I tried to get drunk in the staff room before we left, but it didn’t happen. You know how sometimes you’re so nervous about something that not even alcohol can help? That’s what I was like. Turns out, it was just a really good night. My friend got pulled up on stage and got a willy slapped in her face – it was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. She then texted her husband to let him know about the willy slapping and two minutes later got a reply from her mum saying, Oh dear, I’m not sure that text was for me? That was even funnier than the actual willy slapping.

This night out was a whole two days ago, but I still feel hungover. No work today though – woop, woop. I’m having a movie day instead.

I love being a grown-up.

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