Stuck in a Rut with You

I am in debt by a minus gazillion pounds, I'm wasting away worse than a scurvy riddled pirate but I feel ridiculously optimistic. Although I'm in a dodgy place - unemployed, not clothed to the uppity fashion of today - I like when I get a surprised reaction from graduating and I graciously bask in the congratulations. I'm now having to endure the constant fiddlish poke of my nephew's finger in my eye every 8am (because I've offered to babysit him when his parents go to work) and my mother's harsh but patronising song-like screams of my name when I'm not where I'm meant to be; the kitchen.

But yet, I am optimistic and smiling like a goofy touched-in-the-head bastard.

I'll tell you why.

I am a fan of writing. I haven't written a blog in a while but for me, writing is like halal wine it has to be special and not just placidly written; you take it in, you swill the taste of words in your mouth as you embrace them in a lofty sophisticated manner, jiggle around some sparkly vocab, and then suddenly you're so intrigued by how good it sounds, you find yourself scrabbling to type it somewhere and gush over it as it ages and matures in your word processor. It's a personal satisfaction to conjure up a beautiful collaboration of words that could be pursued further to become a rather dazzling novel, freeze your genius creation on a parchment for everyone to see. I personally marvel at my own ingenious literary work, and my talent has paid off.

Well anyways, I'm chatting so much shit. I do have a point to all of this.

Things are looking up; I'm getting callbacks for interviews, I'm being told I'm an amazing excelled writer (again, regarding to just my CV) and I'm coming up with trumps. But yet, I'm waiting on results - I'm waiting for that call saying that 'Hey congratulations! You've got your £25k basic pay and a car to boot, when can you start?' I set myself a goal that I will be earning at least 30k by 30. There's no more negative pessimistic Rosie no more, not when it comes to trundling the hard rocked shit and shovelling it out the way. I'm onto something and until I get it, I'll be ruthless, thick-skinned, motivated and determined to hit the number one spot.

I'M GONNA BE A BALLER, BITCHES. JUST YOU WATCH. PEACE OUT, I'M DONE.

But if for any graceful reason you'd like to stay and read my other posts, feel free to listen to this also - a current favourite of mine and most definitely a luxuriously baritone soundtrack that explains how hoes and bitches and possible lung cancer is the good life (theoretically, its a no but we're all allowed to fantasise)