Dawn of the Furious and Dangerous

I've turned the healthy number of 23 years old today.
And I've faced a multitude of grim decisions made on my behalf with no control over say or action.

I've been manipulated, scrapped, turned over and betrayed by a number of people, and I vow to give them a piece of my mind when I get the chance.

I've never been so vengeful on a birthday before.

Miserable and lonely because my birthday always fall on a weekday and I'm always doing the most unflattering things ever, yes - wanting to gouge a person's eye out and wanting to strangle slow pigeons that are taking too long moving out the way of my car, no.

Here's the jip that's got me all bunged up with toxic matter and murderous rage:

I've been moved from my team and re-arranged onto a department pod with people I do not function well with. I am furious as this is my day off from work, and I have no say over what happens other than offering a little obscenity-safe rant down the phone to the department.

Secondly, my mum made me get up and buy a hoover. A hoover?! Why today of all days, when I could have slept in til the morning afternoon, internet shopped (by placing things in my basket but leaving the page and never getting them at all),  and just in general, being lazy and watch a few movies.

Since yesterday, I have felt nothing but vast emptiness. It's the hollowed feeling that you're not actually being considered a being, you're the pest amongst the group. Knowing that people are wishing you happy birthday, but really what they're actually saying is 'yeah, so, a little birthday party invite won't hurt' or 'let's just get to know each other again, like old times' or more commonly 'who cares if you're old, I only know your birthday because Facebook told me so. We're not exactly friends let alone acquaintances anymore. I'll remove you from my friends list without you knowing.'

I hate feeling like I'm alone when I'm not. I have no idea how to communicate, yet I've done a degree in communicating. Does that make me an idiot or a highly expressive artiste?

But then come night, my night got lighter and considerably better.

My good friends came around and swept me out of the house for an old fashioned girly chat and we just talked about everything meaningless there is to mention in this morbid town and then I felt a whole lot better.

I guess all you need is a good listening ear and you're set for a birthday really.
It's all I could have asked for.

A year and some has passed since graduating from university.  It seems like eons ago. I never formed my whirlwind career in journalism as I had dreamed of. I have forever since been working as a consultant for a medical agency and grind out 60 hours a week to the system. I hardly see my friends,  I don't see much of my family, and I've not had any chances to branch out and reboot my love for writing since what seems like forever, and I want to blame everyone for my failure but will never point that same accusing finger at myself.

I've matured in ways that startled even me, and furthermore, I've become far more shrewd and perplexed at even the slightest comment that snags a nerve at any time I don't want to make social contact.

This life, this time continuum consisting of birthdays reminding me of how much older I'm getting, how many of my colleagues and school classmates are marrying and birthing children, how many people are leaving me to darken in my own misery and to never speak to me again, its all beginning to get incredibly boring and rigid.

I'm a woman of routine,  and I'm bored of being a slave to this system.

I'm too full of worries and analyse risk factors and fret too much about what others will think of me.  I am a self loathing pitiful senseless creatures when it comes to obiding to anyone's rules but my own.  The shameless urge and delirious desperate need to please and obtain praise from those who hardly look twice your way makes my brain turn inside out.

I'm dwindling out of control and to the point where I feel I need to make drastic change.  I need positivity,  a good healthy spirit,  a morsel of faith and hope, and most of all, a smile on my face.

I want to pursue my career in film journalism, and I will start my new plan as kf tomorrow.

This means a new blog and an unfortunate goodbye from me on this account,  as I feel this is too amateur and a childish attempt to what I propose to achieve. I may bite my words and return to post a little on here but primarily,  I'll be focusing on a new refreshing blog so I can finally kick start the career I had once dreamed of and hopefully you'll all see me in a new renewed respectful and humble perspective.

I appreciate all of you who have read the jaw jarring sodding awful articles I've written on here and I'd love it if you could support my new blog which I hope to start tomorrow night

I love you trolls but mama evil has to do her thing.

Peace out
 Much love x

Post Uni, Present Pro

Hey Bloggers, it's been a very long while since I wrote anything up here, it's been a strange year as I've had to become a fully subsidised adult. That means paying actual bills, keeping an eye on bank ISA accounts, looking at properties and getting totally laddered on mocktails in the bar next to my workplace pretending to be sad and depressed but really, I'm sugared up on fruit juice.

I got a job in the MK City - Milton Keynes - as a recruitment consultant to nurses. Its a prominent business that offers me lots of money, so I'm not complaining. Soon as the clock turns and I'm out that door, I'm walking into a department store within minutes and swiping my plastic Visa so much I'm sure it's melted a little bit.

I got lucky. Within 4 months of leaving university, I got through that retail life and jumped onto the professional career wagon in the recruitment field. I've always wanted to try it, but I believe I will revert back to journalism within good time.

But what happens is that with time you spread yourself a little thin cause you start to look back and think, as the life forms around you become numbers and letters coded into a system, all ordered to an instruction just as I am - you see the time and energy you used to have but remembered you had no money to spend, but now you have money and energy but you have no time to enjoy it. Soon we'll all be old and we'll retire and have money and time, but we'd have no palpable energy to participate in what we wanted to do. I'm afraid I will lose the time and the energy. So I want to jumpstart my journalism career as soon as before time turns me saggy and even more grumpier. I want to live by the passport, the prayer and by my imagination's prime.

So this entry is about wanting more and wishing to do more with my time - fuck having a husband and two kids in the space of 6 months in a council house, that's a hanker-me-down lifestyle. I'll write a bucket list and do all sorts of stuff with just a ticket a book and a backpack. You cannot allow your mind to accept that things are what they are sometimes. Life is about living. To breathe is to experience.
Career progression is a daunting experience, its fun and exciting but then responsibility then hits its hammer on your head and your forever nursing a headache over things you don't want to deal with because you're young and you don't know what else is out there unless you're given the chance to try.

Fake a midlife crisis at 24 and buy a motorbike. Go live in China and tell people your ancestors are from there. Instragram your poo and tell people its a brick, I don't know. Just utilise time: pray, love, laugh, smile. Be mature and respectful and enjoy the companionship of humans who love you.

Every weekend I get off I'm renovating my house with my parents. Its a gratifying and wholesome experience, because I can see where I live is transforming around me. A little piece in me lights up because I've achieved something that illuminates an aspect of that room. Its fulfilling for now but soon I'll want a bigger project to fill my appetite. I've decided I want to try my hand at property and see if I can handle the swig of that kinda juice.

This post was totally random but I just wanted to write. Its the need of wanting to break out from work, from the consistent 10 hour shift a day and realising you've left so much behind or you've neglected it all because of a job. Its a sad and worrying feat of a career, especially when you hear about individuals who leave everything behind just for a couple of fat wads of cash to plop and go 'ker-ching!' in their bank accounts.

What's even more depressing is that we're probably the only species in God's wonderful universe who pay to live on a planet. Makes you wonder what kind of beings we've become, doesn't it?

Anyways, fuck the system and let's live on, I'm gonna shut up mainly cause I'm hungry and because I'm going to let my brain cells die after watching a couple of episodes of Family Guy so I'm leaving you with a song that's so uber bonkers and branded in Versace and Illuminati, that it suddenly seems alright to be weird.

Love you trolls. Adios til probably next year when I'm a baby mama.