Second Entry.

I’m not entirely familiar with the concept of ‘blogging’. For now I think I’ll just use it as a faithful outlet for all the emotions I endure: fear; guilt; anxiety; self-doubt; hunger...All the emotions. I don’t feel qualified to instruct you on which music to listen to; what clothes to wear; where to go this weekend...I haven’t even got out of bed myself yet.

     I’m tiresome of my tolerance of this relentless university related work. I’m bored of living like a student; eating beans on toast off my knee and observing the slug trials on the carpet with contempt.  (They catch the light in the most delicate and mysterious fashion, though). 

     I’m bored of living off the contents of my Gran’s change jar; holding up the self service queue at Asda. I’m bored of my wisdom tooth trying to escape through my face, and that weird bit of gum flap that I keep worrying I will eventually digest with my baked bean brunch.

     There’s the potential of having some real-life fun tonight, though. A party, mere metres away from my own house. Whether I’ll go or not though, is debatable. The advantages include being able to indulge in a hangover tomorrow, which I do enjoy as it gives me the opportunity to truly revel in my own self-pity. There isn’t a much better way to spend a Sunday afternoon than watching repeats of Murder, she wrote, whilst sobbing into a pan of mashed potato.

     There are other advantages. A friend of the host soiled my 21^st birthday party recently by shitting in my housemates’ shoe. He will most certainly be there, thus ‘poo revenge’ can commence. Whether I want to spend my weekend hiding faeces in a house full of strangers, is another matter. 

     I’ve established in my mind’s eye that this would be both endearing and hilarious, making me the life and soul of the party. It would also serve to fulfil a deep-seeded desire stemming from my traumatic childhood, whereby a masked stranger broke into my house and defecated in my pram. 

     Whilst an ‘honour pooing’ is debatably dishonourable, it would surely relieve me of this injustice and restore my faith in human nature.  

     We’ll see. You don’t need to have fun all the time, surely. Maybe I’ll just have a pan of mash, anyway; I’m feeling reckless.