Lately, I have this amazing sense of being able to do whatever the fuck I want whenever the fuck I want. Surely if this was a positive thing I wouldn’t feel so anxious.

I have this overwhelming feeling of worry hanging over me. It’s like I’m on a rollercoaster and it’s taking me through my life much faster than my stomach can handle. I’d very much like to get off and take a few deep breaths before they pull the barrier back down and lock me in, but the guy in the dodgy, freebie baseball cap is just looking up and laughing at how terrified I am.

What will happen if I continue to go so fast? What if the rollercoaster comes off the tracks? I need to stop. I need to take everything around me in.  I’m fast forwarding through my life and I need to slow down. What if I continue going so fast that I run out of things to do by the time I turn 60? Is that even possible? Perhaps I’ll lose the ability to appreciate all the things around me because all I can see is a blur of colours as a speed round each loop.

The guy in the funny looking cap is starting to let the other passengers off one by one. He does it gradually and slowly, mocking me. Soon it’ll just be me on this ride and what happens then?  

I need a hand to hold.

I need to stop. 

Fat cats, Northern blokes and losing my voice

I am always so tired. I guess I can only blame myself. I really should sleep more!

Last night at the Fat Cat was incredible, Kipling played well as always. We had a few drinks and danced and sung along for a good few hours. Terri then called and demanded I went to meet some metal bands down at the Twist. They were from near Leeds and I couldn't understand a word they said because they were talking so fast in such strong accents, but they were lovely guys. We cruised around in their van for a while and went to some party. I got in at 5am and I'm shattered but it was a great night.

I spent today recovering ... Well when I say day I actually mean afternoon and evening because I didn't get out of bed until gone 3pm. I woke up to discover that I sound like someone who'd been smoking 40 a day for their entire life. My voice is almost entirely gone. After this horrific discovery there was obviously nothing else I could do but eat and chill out listening to music in bed. I then pulled myself together and tried to get on with some art coursework but ended up doodling, which is far more fun than working to a brief! Lola's been chilling with me for most of the day too.

I look horrific when I'm ill, my humble apologies! 

Long time no speak.

Hello Blogspot, I'm back again. I was scared off by your complicated settings in comparison to Tumblr, but let's face it, you'll always be the better blogging website.

I'm trying to think of something profound or exciting to tell you, but I spent my day in comfy clothes sweeping up hair at work. I sure do lead an extraordinary life.

I am off to a gig later at the Fat Cat, that's semi-exciting news. I'm really in the mood to dance so it should be a good night. I'm going to go out, have a few drinks and let my hair down ... so to speak, it's not like I have any hair to let down. Oh that's another thing! I'm considering growing my hair to some ultra-glam 20's Louise Brookes style Bob. Possibly, if I have the patience to grow it. It's going to look bloody ridiculous growing this hair style out though. Lord give me strength, I don't know if I can deal with having a naf haircut for as long as it'll take to grow.