Slip inside the eye of your mind, don’t you know you mind find a better place to play.
I have various directions to go. Various things to write. I’ve been thinking about indulging in some overdue venting for a while but today is not that day.
Instead I’m thinking about how amazing life is. I’m not Miss Super Happy, perhaps just Miss Positive.
I’m currently working on my questionnaire for Keele’s Counselling department and I’m also reading a brilliant novel that I really struggle to put down. My ‘just an hour’ turned into all day and I’m now yet to do the hoovering and clean something with some aggressive music blasting. I’m undecided on what to clean, probably the bathroom despite its lack of requirement. There are germs on everything. Yesterday I panicked because I had touched money and I couldn’t find my hand sanitising gel *shudders*, everyone should commit to bleaching their coins and, well, notes just shouldn’t exist. No, cash of either kind shouldn’t exist. Just debit and credit cards. I’m not here to discuss my mild germ phobia though. I don’t know what I’m here for today.
I just feel happy. I think it’s a combination of reading a great psychological thriller and looking to my future. I think I will write a brief review on the novel I’m reading, which is called Before I Let You In. I get emails from Amazon lately telling me about psychological thrillers that I might like based on my purchases. It’s brilliant, I no longer need to look for novels, they’re coming to me. One such email resulted in me instantly purchasing a book a few days ago. It was such an instant attraction that I can’t even recall what it’s about. It’s by the same writer as the book I’m reading. I’m loving my Kindle, I’m paying barely anything and getting novels in seconds. I’m also receiving those useful recommendations.
I’ve had a thought lately, the ‘who am I?’ kind of thought. What am I all about? A while ago I created a Plenty of Fish account purely because I had seen that my ex had an account. I’m not even sure if I was jealous. Maybe I just wanted to find someone to spend a bit of time with so I could know I was doing okay. Anyway, I remember trying to think of what to write about myself. I tried to sell myself a little only I had nothing to sell. I was critical. That was all I could say that was entirely truthful. I remember that I wrote that I wasn’t interested in men who couldn’t spell. In hindsight I can see how I must of come accross. Somehow I attracted a considerable amount of attention which kept my mind occupied (I feel like ass for even mentioning that). Guys would boast of their hobbies, always containing a physical element, something that reflected what women innately desire: strength. Really? Every man uses the gym? Astonishing. My dating journey was a short one. I made a friend and I found Mike- I’m veering off topic. I think if I was to sell myself now I have so much more to say and I’ve barely started what I hope to achieve. A lot of people haven’t created a life, they harbour one. I used to be virtually nothing. I did nothing worth writing home about. I had character but I lacked anything to use that character for. I don’t understand why it’s taken me 24 years to feel like more than a blank canvass. It’s like being frozen to the spot, peering out hopeful that something interesting will happen. It didn’t. It won’t. Not unless you start making things happen. Fairytales don’t knock on your door.