The year is 2019. You have lost all that extra christmas weight, your career is looking bright and your social life is blossoming. You are living your best life.
Yeah, right. My instagram is full of people who have already completed their new years resolutions (I wish my goals would take me 3 days)
Meanwhile, I have caught a cold and have become incredibly moody trying to diet. I am so hangry. I don’t want salad, I want the bacon double cheeseburger Maccies has introduced. I want chocolate with my cup of tea. I want greasy takeaway and a beer.
Alas, the future is bleak and I’m too stubborn to simply give up. So, instead I feel like the world is ending.
2019 has hit me over the head with a baseball bat and beaten me to a bloody pulp. I finish university in a few months.
Do I have a job lined up? Nope.
Do I even know what career I want? Nope.
Will I inevitably end up working for the big, yellow ‘m’ for the rest of my life? Most likely.
My problem is, I want my job to inspire me and be as me as possible. Most writing jobs are writing for other people, and that defeats my entire purpose.
That’s probably why I like blogging so much.
My ego is big enough to think that I’m worth more than a job I hate, but not big enough to actually persue what I want to do. I’m pretty sure I’m not even making sense anymore.
Woe is me.
At least it’s not all doom and gloom, I got Jurassic World Evolution (the game) for christmas and, when I haven’t been panicking, I’ve been binge playing that.
I like ‘create-your-own’ type of games. There’s probably gamers out there yelling at me, telling me the technical name, but you get the jist.
I have reached a problem in creating my own Jurassic Park, and that is that raptors are bastards.
You could build them a huge paddock, with all of their needs as high as they can be. But the minute you add any other carnivores, they will rip them to shreds. This is a huge problem.
You can’t even put them with Deinonychus, which were basically the ancestors of the raptors. They are practically the same species, it’s just the Deinonychus looks more like a startled chicken.
Yet the minute you put them together, the raptors will feast on them. They need to take a history lesson, the uncultured fools.
Also, why do they think they’re better than the rex? The rex will happily live among the little spitty, flappy things that I can’t remember the name of. And no, I do not mean vagina’s, you pervs.
I was going to write much more over christmas, but I went home. And home is practically a dog-filled loony-bin, so I just didn’t have time.
I hope you’re all having a better new year than me, adios.