Monday, 6 October 2014

Age Appropriate Behaviour?

This tweet by Anna Kendrick is over 6 months old. But as soon as I saw it, a very loud "I KNOW RIGHT?"escaped my lips. I couldn't help but identify with her so I took a screenshot.
And its stuck in my head ever since.

She may be five years older than me, but I still feel like the odd one out.
People I went to school and university with seem to have it all worked out. Full-time careers, marriage, kids, their own houses. What is this growing up crap?

It still, as Anna put it, blows my mind that at 23 I'm not exactly thaaaat young to have a kid or two.
At this age, my mam had been married a year, had a little baby on the way in a few months and had been living with my dad in their first little house since the wedding.
I have none of that. This is a woman who had a joint 18th and engagement party. I can't even get my mind around that.
I don't even have a boyfriend for christ's sake. Would I feel hella different if I did? Perhaps.


Is all this something I should be wanting?
What is age appropriate behaviour for someone at my age?


Chandler: I'm 29. I want to sit in a comfortable chair and go to bed at a reasonable hour!
Joey: And I want to go to a quiet place and just talk with my friends.
Ross:Yeah! And so what if at the end of a hard day I like to kick on some Kenny G and take a bath.
Joey: Dude, we're 29. We're not women

I know I don't want all the teenagery stuff anymore. Drinking is a necessary evil. But one I rarely really indulge in. I don't want to go to Ibiza and get off my tits either.
I feel like I've kinda bypassed all that. I don't wanna go to a club, I wanna go somewhere I can talk and sip on something fizzy. 

To be honest, going out in general doesn't really appeal. I'm quite happy staying home with the television or a good book. Washing my hair, having a glass of wine and eating my weight in custard creams.
So what age am I?
The eternal singleton..destined to die, fat and alone, and be found three weeks later half-eaten by alsatians.... oh no, not another Bridget Jones reference.
Oh bugger.



Sunday, 5 October 2014

'Coffee, Cigarettes and Deadlines for Breakfast'

Before I got myself a 'real job'. Writing was all I did. Freelancing. A lot of the time for free, and only some of the time for any cash..sad, but true.
I lived on my (considerable) savings and on the kindness of my parents - who I still lived with up until May this year. 

When writing was all there was.. coffee, cigarettes and deadlines were all I consumed and put out.
Back in February, I was over in Montreal on a 'life break' of sorts. And that is literally all my days were. Waking up to two black coffees in quick succession, a cig and then getting down to writing up the article I had to have in.. or catching up  the artist/band whoever I was interviewing that week..on some badly planned transatlantic call.

I work well under pressure. If I have to have something done in a short space of time - it does me. I like the researching. The composing of the questions.. and then the total derail the conversation with that person actually takes. You always end up talking about things you'd never think. Cups of tea, and what they're having for lunch and who in the industry they fucking hate. Over and over. I love it.

It sounds a bit monotonous. I guess it kinda is. But that is what I wish was still my life.
Getting up and going out to clock in at work and deal with the public.. really isn't me. I'm not half bad at it, but its not me. 
I like the idea of being free to wake up when I choose. To leave the house only and when I choose. And to live my life around a deadline rather than a working day of 9-5..(or 12-9 in my case)

Coffee, cigarettes and deadlines for breakfast actually sounds pretty appealing.
And I wasn't hungry anyway.

Saturday, 4 October 2014

When life gets in the way..

I haven't blogged in an obscene amount of time. And that's not to say I haven't been writing. I have. Just not in the amount or frequency that I'd have liked. 
I write everyday. Whether it be notes on my phone or scribbles down in my diary. But recently, it seems like 'life has got in the way'.
The 'life' that most of us have to have.. namely a job that pays the bills. I work somewhere good, with people that are even greater.. but at the end of the day, it isn't what i want to do. it isn't my raison d'etre. Not even a little bit.
And when the end of the week comes, and I've worked 40 hours.. do I have the energy to sit down and blog? Getting in at nearly 10pm - I don't even have the energy to make myself a proper meal half the time.

But even though this job has given me new friends, and a good consistent wage at the end of every month - I feel like I'm losing myself ever so slightly. 
Not writing. Not having the time. And it makes me sad.

I'm still in a strange place. Mentally. I'm better than I was, but I still ruminate on the past. That is my biggest and/or worse flaw. I find it hard to let go of things and to find closure. And the worse thing is, I can recognise it in myself. I know that I do it.. and yet it still continues. Especially if I've had a bit of wine or something to that effect. 

But today is the end of it. I'm sat here on my third sick day off work (caught a lovely bug that's left me unable to eat or drink and pretty much contagious to anyone within a metre of me).. and I'm stopping it. I've said it now and its out in the world.

Leave the past. Just leave it Catherine.
And fucking write once in a while.