So, it’s been a while. Again.
Since I last wrote Brexit has been delayed until January 2060 (Not literally, but at this rate you never know), parliament is considering banning fireworks and My Chemical Romance got back together. Somewhere deep inside me (oo-er) emo Lucie is screaming. Luckily she’s been hidden away, so neutral-but-still-obsessed-with-black Lucie is just smiling at her phone like a fool. Lucie is going to stop talking in third person now.
I guess there’s been a reason I haven’t been writing, and I think at this point it’s mainly fear. I’ve finished university where when you said ‘I’m a writer’ people would be like ‘Cool, let me read.’ But now I’ve finished, nobody wants to read my stuff and when I admit that I’m a writer, I get blank stares.
There’s also the fact that since moving home I’ve been applying to jobs frantically, but I keep getting rejections. I keep telling myself that they were only retail jobs and I shouldn’t care, but frankly whatever small (okay, okay, big) ego I had is slowly being destroyed. I keep thinking: ‘If I can’t get a job in a shop, how am I going to make it as a writer?’ and that small thought stops me from writing anything. I’m not complaining, I just thought I owed you guys an explanation.
Apart from crippling anxiety (Aah, the life of a writer) I haven’t been up to much. I started work and have made a few friends, AND I haven’t put any Oreo topping in milkshakes recently. Basically, it’s a miracle.
Though I was working Halloween and when I took an order to a table, this little boy said ‘It’s Halloween!’ and without even thinking, I replied: ‘Is it really?’ and then had the sudden realisation I had just been sarcastic to a child. I think I managed to fix it with ‘Is that why I’ve been seeing skellingtons?’ which seemed to get his grandmother to stop glaring at me.
I also went to Carlisle Bonfire Night last Saturday with Ian, Ruby and Alex. They pulled out all of the fancy shmancy technology this year, and the bonfire was the moon. Not literally, though that would have impressed me even more.
They had made this massive ball out of wood and projected the moon onto it. They also had a little rocket and this woman was singing about landing on the moon, but nobody really cared about that. We were just there to watch her burn into ashes.
Somehow Ian and Alex decided to split up from us and meet us at the park. It sounded simple enough, but what we didn’t account for was the 30,000 other people stood on the field (if you could call it that, it was more of a bog at that point. Wait, isn’t a bog a toilet? Now I’m confused.)
At one point, Ian said (through the phone) to turn the torch on and wave it about. At the exact same time, the presenter said: ‘Let’s see those torches in the air.’ So everybody lifted their phones up. I swear I’m cursed.
After the show we went to the fairground, where I forced them all to go on The Waltzer. At least, I think it’s called the Waltzer. It’s that ride where you sit down in a seat that spins in circles, while the floor also spins in circles and then people kick your seat to make you go faster. (Those are trained people by the way, not randomers who are having a bad day.)
While some people may call me ‘childish,’ I prefer ‘Adventurous’ or ‘Free spirited.’ At first I was just dragging my startled little sister onto it, but somehow both Ian and Alex got pulled in too. They loved it in the end, though none of us could walk straight afterwards and I’m pretty sure I fell onto the girl who helped me out of the seat. But nobody died or was severely injured, so I call that a win. After all, the key to being happy is appreciating that it could have been worse.
And that seems like a good point to leave you all on.
Au revoir, mon petit pois.