Yesterday night, one of my favourite people on this planet came to stay at mine; this involved a 2 hour tidy up (everybody refuses to tidy up because we believe we didn't make the mess...so things just stay messy until we get an excuse like somebody coming to visit to do everything), sausage sandwiches, lots of chocolate and hilarious conversation. We went to bed telling each other stuff about our past, talking about music and laughing. It was one of the most inspiring nights I've had recently, just being around somebody with the same like minded ambition and mindset...I'm telling you, it's a killer what ambition can do to you.
Tonight, I'm sat on my bed eating Terry's Chocolate Orange and drinking hot chocolate. I'm catching up with writing that I've been putting off for a while and after a super hot shower and a hair wash, I feel as though I'm ready to take on the world. But having sat here for a hour or so feeling sorry for myself because I had writer's block, my hair wasn't going right and my stomach just wouldn't stop rumbling, I've had a shot of inspiration straight to my brain because it got me thinking.
These nights listed above don't happen often. I usually finish work at stupid o'clock, rush home to eat, exercise, have a quick shower and sleep. I never really get an opportunity to let my hair down or revel in girl talk. I'm beyond grateful for being surrounded by super cool people, each of them making the nights I've mentioned really special (big shout out to Terry, whose Chocolate Orange is probably the best thing to happen to me) but at the same time, within that hour when I felt horribly down just because things weren't going my way, I discovered that MAYBE I do take things for granted.
For example, for the past 4 years I've wanted to move back to London. I moved back here 4 months ago and yet I've just found myself complaining about how lonely I am now I've moved 64 miles away from what has been my daily life for the past 8 years.
I have a brilliant job. Fair enough, it's not exactly what I want to be doing for the next couple of years, let alone for the rest of my life but for now, the money's alright and I've met some pretty cool people through it. But I've just sat here and contemplated calling in sick tomorrow purely because I'd rather spend all day in bed, watching daytime TV and eating chocolate...I won't call in sick but I can't tell you how tempting it is.
All of this crazy thinking made me realise that are we ever truly happy? We give ourselves what we want, or what we think we want yet we'll always manage to find obstacles to put in our way. We need something to moan about, something to complain about when somebody asks "are you okay?". Despite the serious lack of romance in my life and the fact that Victoria White, Jo Elvin or Caitlin Moran haven't e-mailed me begging me to become their writing sidekick, I have the majority of what I could possibly want, and need around me.
A roof over my head, food in my fridge (kind of...do cheese slices and a yoghurt count?), a working shower, clean water and some form of entertainment to keep me occupied.
Why is this never enough though?
P.S I've attached my new favourite song because I think the lyrics are breathtaking. Listen, you'll love it.