“I know it sucks to see him moving on, doing new and exciting things with this new girl, of course I do. Especially when he called it all off. But honestly I don’t think you’re upset because you still love him, I think it’s because you’re scared and you’re scared because you don’t think you’ll ever meet somebody like that again. Someone who treats you as well as he did, took you places, made you feel special. But honey there is a whole sea of people out there, don’t confine yourself to a pond! You’re in the prime of your life so fucking indulge in it. There is someone- or someones- out there to have fun with, play around with, who’ll probably treat you the same way if not better. So roll your sleeves up and get the fuck on it before I… -Just do it”

Saved me from a lot of torment indeed, helped me to move on instead of hanging on..Thanks Tom!

Of course, the same guy who gave us that advice earlier stated

“Girls only use the word ‘lovely’ when describing their friends when they really mean, she’s got an alright personality but she looks like a 3rd degree burns victim.”

True.

nobody gives a shit about what we write anymore and that’s a shame, because we could really learn a lot from eachother.

I was off schedule as it was and didn’t need anything else to overthrow my daily work routine; suddenly my feet can’t walk any faster and the people are walking slower. I feel like pacman trying to navigate through the 8am crowds of Norwich city centre, passing Starbucks on gentleman’s walk. A man acknowledges me and is calling out “hey” but it takes me a while to realise and, even though we’ve already passed one another, I kind of feel that I should still say hey back. He invites me to sit down with him for a chat, by this point I feel obliged, despite the ten-minuites-before-your-shift starts curfew at work. It turns out that the man is deaf and I learn after a few minutes conversation that he is also partially blind. He then pulls out a card which he must carry explaining that he is a victim of brain injury. When he was seventeen years old, the man was involved in an accident caused by joy-riders. -“That’s life” he says. “I’m still here today and I get to talk to nice people like yourselves. Fate doesn’t come at a time when we ask it to, and it isn’t always for the best.. But I’m still happy” and he smiles.

That day I was late for work and it didn’t send me into a bout of anxiety as it usually would. This guy had been through some shit, but he seemed to embrace it, rather than sit back and let bitterness eat away at his soul. Accepting that inevitably bad situations happen to us is initially hard, but it shouldn’t always define our being. If this guy could do it, it’s definitely worth a shot.

1) Do something neurotic every day.

2) Have at least one sexual awakening a week.

3) Experiment with the same sex more than once… Remember how different your first cigarette was?

4) Be nice to strangers; they give you stuff. Such as free bus tickets. 

5) Have at least one opinion of Shaun Tan and make it a good one.

6) Buy a journal. Use it to write down anything which happened that day worth remembering. You’ll be able to relive the experience every time you read it.

7) Likewise, make contact with an old friend and have fun reminiscing your youth.

8) Bacon, avocado and houmous on toasted brown bread will never disappoint you.

9) Stop being mad when more people acknowledge your favourite band and just be happy they’re doing well for themselves.

10) Floss.

11) Sometimes it’s lucky to not get what you want.

12) Adulthood can be much more fun when you’re still acting like a child.

13) Take pictures while you’re still young and pretty. We’re never going to look this good again.

14) If you don’t ask then the answer is automatically a no.

15) You don’t still love them, you’re just scared. You’re scared you won’t meet anyone who represents what they do to you. That you won’t find someone that will treat you the same way.

16) Introduce the word “pulchritudinous” into your vocabulary.

17) Explosions in the Sky- Your Hand In Mine

18) Drugs aren’t a big deal, really. 

19) Some things don’t last forever, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth your while.

You know what I’d do—if I lived alone? Don’t get mad…I’d have three or four guys. To keep me happy. ‘Cause no one guy is enough, I think. It’s like they’ve all got parts, you know … and if you could put all the parts together in one guy it would be enough … but they don’t come that way. They’re all mixed up. They got scrambled somehow. Besides, every guy I’ve ever been with has had other women. You think I don’t know? I know what’s going on. I just pretend like I don’t so … I don’t know why. I just pretend. That’s what I do. Well, maybe it’s my turn, you know. Maybe it’s their turn to come to me. Maybe it’s my turn to use them and tell them to get out when I’m done with them and make them clean up after me. Maybe I’ll have as many guys as I want, and they can only come when I call them!What do you think of that?

11am and I am kicking myself for cockily raising my hand to volunteer for a Psychology task. It sounded pretty easy really, I mean all that was required was for me to put a bit of data into a computer. The lecturer even used the word “fun” when describing the task- then I realised, I didn’t have a bloody clue how to use SPSS. You ever do that, at the time putting your name forward sounds like the best idea of the day. Then several minutes later and you can no longer be arsed to go through with -what ever it is you’d agreed to do. Well that happened, I put my name down. Nice one. Feeling very awkward as all the other volunteers go and grab a coffee as i’m scrounging around with several 10p’s and 5p’s in the canteen. Hoping I can gather enough money to do the same as them-nope, not enough change. Alright then, I’ll go wait upstairs- which room is it? Fuck. I’ll take the lift, lift is going down… I’ve just been downstairs, brilliant. Lecturer gets in the lift and bingo, can sheepishly follow her to the room. So I get put with one of the mature students (she ain’t that old, just no longer a teenager) and I’ve already offended her with what I thought was a lighthearted joke about the age difference. She’s a nice lady, has a son who’s just been kicked out of his state school because they couldn’t handle his autism and ADHD, also comes from Australia… So she notices my wrist tattoo and asks to see it. Turns out she has the exact same design- even the same colour! She got hers tattooed in Sydney, mine in Great Yarmouth (Suddenly feel beaten slightly). I ask her if shes from Sydney- yes. Remembering I had a friend from Sydney of her age (cool guy, got hit on by Chloe Sevigny) I drop his name into conversation and yes! She knows him from a friend of a friend. I mean, how cool is that? Not only do we have the same tattoos but she also knows of a friend who lives on the other side of the world! Those are some crazy odds right there, now i’m not neccesarily saying it was fate but it was sure something. The moral of the story is probably something along the lines of trusting in your instincts, sometimes really interesting stuff emerges from situations that you could have missed out on. 

Maybe you remember when suddenly kissing isn’t a kids game anymore; suddenly it’s wide-eyed, scary and dangerous.

We are consumed by our own loneliness and desires for affection. We refuse it from the ones with whom we need it from most, yet willing accept it in times of crisis. We will not learn from the things we have done until change occurs. We often relive the nostalgia of a somewhat less complex age, or period in our lives, leaving out the finer details. We question our sadness whilst disregarding others sadness and always, always contradict ourselves. 

(Source: myownmeandering3amthoughtsh.crisis)

We’ve all had that one friend who has just been irrevocably dumped by her long term boyfriend and here she is, seven hours later with a tear streamed face crying into a bottle of Blossom Hill “I don’t want to have another boyfriend, ever. Nevernever again I hate men” blaaa blaa. In fact, just over a year ago that girl was me. I had drank copious amounts of Lambrini and wanted to hide the fact that being dumped was so traumatising by blaming all men instead. Okay yes, at some point there was a phonecall (and around 15 missed calls to his phone.. alright, a crying voicemail too.) Sucessful no, regretful yes. And thus, we begin reforming our ego as a singleton. We vow never to let another man into our hearts, yet the first thing we do is drool over that hot boy who you “could’ve got with last Friday but you were too damn faithful to that twat”..

In short, this is the kind of situation you would probably mediate if any girl were to say that she didn’t want a relationship. But sometimes, yes, sometimes it is plausible for a girl to be emotionally stable (and not a raging feminist) to not want a relationship. For me, now is definitely not the right time for a relationship. It’s a conscious decision; nobody has hurt me or temporarily “put me off” dating, I just… Don’t need to worry about anyone else right now. Call it self- absorbed, call it what you like, but why invest large amounts of time into making someone else feel good when you can contribute solely towards your own happiness instead? Right now, home is split between both university and back in Norwich so being tied down is just not the right thing to do. But not wanting a relationship doesn’t have to mean  abstinence; it certainly doesn’t mean I don’t give people a chance, it’s simply opting out long term. Initiating a relationship and maintaining it is hard. Remember how bored you get investing your efforts into raising a tamigotchi? Yeah, exactly. Invest in yourself, trust me on that one. For that reason, not wanting a relationship does not mean you have to endure some hideous motive to get there. Just, be.

Good evening, morning, afternoon, mid morning, whichever period of the day that I am interrupting, I am going to present to you some of the many perks attending the University of Lincoln have to offer. Believe you me, you’ll be dead chuffed with yourself for accepting the offer in about 3 minuites from now.

Steep Hill

If you enjoy altitude sickness and suffer from asthma then please go ahead and visit. -That is, if you like wheezing chests and throwing up half way into a journey. Along the way you’ll see some “really old buildings what were built a long time ago” (obviously, because of their age, they’re like really beautiful. What’s that there, with the impossibly low ceilling? Oh, it’s an overpriced tea shop! Jesus, I don’t care if a monkey has picked the leaves. Just get me a fucking cheap brew! But seriously, if you enjoy… God.. then visit the cathedral at the top.

Home

Alright, this is far too ambiguous. They have named a club after where you live. This is great for pointlessly prolonging conversations with your pals

“Alright mate, you going out tonight then?”

“I’m going Home”

“Ah right cool. Well i’ll see you when you’re back”

“What, you not going Home either?”

“Nah I’m staying here.. I just implied. I’m going out.” 

“Wait what, I mean the club”

“Oh fuck, I’m so confused.”

Back to Home (don’t start me off again) So you’re drunk, it’s half ten and you’re setting off, looking forward to pulling some birds and demonstrating how much of a good time you’re having through interpretive dance. You’re in the queue sandwiched between chinos.

You’re still in the queue.

Still there. 

Yes, still in the queue. 5 hours later and you’ve made it in wearing your sunday best and it’s just like any other club.They’re humping, he’s so crazy, they’re in fancy dress and the dj’s playing Jason Derulo. Wheeeeeeey Joe’s pulled a bird.  It’s just like all the other clubs! Unless you’re a smoker, in which case it’s a bloody maze trying to navigate the smoking area.

Romeos

 You havn’t pulled and the nearest Kebaby is just a two minuite walk from the club. That, or you really know how to make a girl feel special (speshal). You end up having an intense 3am conversation in front of a place of cheese fries with your mate.God bless the 24 hour mcdonalds, they deserve a mention. Confusing the drunk and the high with their not ketchup stands all day, every single day.

Superbull. 

Cheap drinks, the floor is sticky. The cheap drinks are on the floor. End up feeling very very disgusted with yourself. There ain’t nothing like a superbull hangover, except polio.

The Quay

We’re not really sure what to call it to be honest. It’s just a patch of water, really. But it smells like swan shit and some funny fuck always ends up peeing 

into it at some point before and after a night out. And if you’re name’s Bob, you’re likely to obtain Police acknowledgement for 

pulling someone out of it. The swans are alright, everybody jokes about stealing one. But nobody ever says anything about those 

turkeys? Geese? Small Prehistoric birds? It’s the reason there are too many bridges around here. p.s. I hope you fucking like fliers. 

Twats.

It’s alright round here really, I can’t complain

Why do youtube videos of events such as “Danzig getting knocked out” always feature playback of the clip in slow motion? Seriously, it just interrupts the stream. You may have put an advert in there or something. It would piss me off the same anyway. Fuckheads.

I really pushed my boundaries today and it’s something that I really suck at doing. I mean really suck, I am a hoarder and find it very hard to be reckless with even the most insignificant of things. Back home I have this pretty lame box that’s filled with- well, a load of crap really; bottle tops, fliers, plectrums, an old newspaper, a few badges.. I can’t remember why they’ve been kept, but they were connected to certain events that were so special at the time and they’ve kind of lost their meaning now. At some point they represented the mood, the place or the people I was with. Although, some still have meaning; some are too old and I can’t bring myself to throw out. Take the drawing of a bear, I mean, what the fuck? When? Whatever. It’s staying in there. But you can’t do the same with people and sometimes it’s a shame you can’t! You can’t keep hold of them because of what they used to represent; they don’t belong in boxes, naturally. You just have to, well, keep their memory without looking back on it to much. You need to let these people go at some point and tape up those memories in an old shoebox and place it in a metaphorical loft, or garage and be done with it for now. 

If you don’t do this now, you never will.

I also apologise for how scatty this reads… Got a case of the big H-O.