Pure Vodka

A millenium has passed since I wrote my last blog post. My mother has been asking me constantly if I posted anything which I respond no, without fail. I am sitting in a coffee shop, with my laptop like the city girl that I am(!). I have dozens of drafts pending, none of which I’m content with. It may have had something to do with the fact that I wrote some posts, then read some articles on The Guardian, one which was written by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie – and we all know how much I love her – and then I just looked back at my drafts and rubbished them mentally and they have been sitting there ever since. Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have done that but what’s done is done, isn’t it?

I have photos to edit, photos to upload, photos to sort, uni stuff will soon be popping it’s ugly head…and I’ll have to sort that out. My mornings don’t start as early as they should and my body doesn’t respond accurately to alarms as it should, I am tired. I have Misconceptions and my Bible to attend to, I no longer tweet or check Twitter, and my Facebook pages have been vacant like a 1 star hotel. I no longer have the deadlines of school or nagging teachers, but I have my parents on my back simply wanting to squeeze the best out of me and I feel like I’m disappointing them because they do the veryvery best for me and provide the veryvery best for me, and do the veryvery best for me (I said this already) and I don’t want to let them down. I have a mentor whom I have not talked to in about a month, and the things he has sent me to read has been sitting in my room since the 1800s, I am tired. I have three different forms of to do lists: one form consists of three stickies (electronic ones) on my laptop, the other form being five million notes on my phone and another five million on my tablet…I cross things off and I’m immediately adding things to it.
I am supposed to be making an income and saving money, but I keep buying food because food is great, right? likeseriously. I think of my friends, and how I should check up on them to see that they’re alright and whatever and I forget…but I always think of them, regardless. I want to read loads of books, but instead I’m racking up a fine at my local library which I have no desire to attend to, I am tired. My mother would probably say stuff like this is just the beginning, and she’s been telling me since secondary school that life isn’t going to get any easier and it isn’t, and it hasn’t but you’ve just got to keep trudging along…right? Just like how she wakes up without fail EVERY morning and makes sure that the family is in check and what needs to be done is done and that it’s done to the highest standard. And I crumble and ache because I just can’t seem to do it like she can. Everyday, I pray for patience and wisdom and high tolerance and all these things to make me stronger and better as a person, and the wisdom to have the right words and express myself correctly to get my point across…not to be quick to anger. Every so often I remind myself: Rome was not built in a day, but sometimes I feel like my vision is too blurry to see the end product, I am tired. But do I have the right to be? I mean what am I truly doing? And the things that I try to do, don’t seem to be enough and I don’t appear to have the right ideas and I’m not doing right half the time. I see some photographers work and I look in awe and amazement at some of these photos, and I beg myself that why can’t my stuff be like that but Rome was not built in a day…on top of that, I don’t know what their photos looked like originally or when they first of all started and I didn’t go to school or something to learn these things, everything is trial and error and YouTube tutorials and Google searches. But I feel like I’m hopelessly providing excuses for myself and that I’m not doing my best or I’m not doing enough.

And I’ve  just realised it’s the first of December, and I don’t have an advent calender (yet?)

an alcoholic beverage with a minimum of 37.5% alcoholic content.

Leave a Reply