(My friend is asleep/passed out in the next room, I feel obliged to keep checking on him to make sure he’s still alive..)

Blogging is not going especially well for me. I just don’t have anything in particular to say. I suppose that’s not particularly unusual, it’s just slightly disheartening for someone who wants to be a writer. I discussed this with some friends earlier, who told me to not give up. Then they told me I was awesome, so they clearly weren’t at all drunk or anything…

(AND I’m under the two week mark.) AND quite a lot of things have happened since last time. Well a thing. I moved into my lovely new student house! It’s a HOUSE! With a SOFA. And a PROPER BATHROOM. For you to understand how exciting this is I’ll need to explain halls.

Imagine, if you will, a huge building, with two entrances at either end. The ground floor is a mysterious world no student is allowed to enter, unless it’s to access the stairs which will allow them to ascend to their own realm. This realm is a place of labyrinthine corridors, 24 hour flourescent lighting, distant unevenly distributed bathrooms and food thieves of the basest order. Who don’t clean up after themselves. The only place to go that is not your bedroom (or someone else’s room which is identical to your bedroom) is the kitchen, which is invariably sticky, disgusting and probably harbouring new strains of disease. So having spent the shortest conceivable amount of time in there preparing food in case you catch something, you return to your room to eat it (your room being considerably less sticky, disgusting, and almost definitely not harbouring new strains of disease). Now, you have a choice. To sit at your desk or on your bed? You have spent most of the day sleeping, but you did spend the rest of the day at your desk, staring at your laptop. Perhaps if you’re sick of these two options and it’s one of the mystical and elusive periods of time when the heating is on you might opt to sit on the floor with your back to the radiator, although this does of course mean you will have to shift positions at least every ten minutes. This carpet was not made for comfort…

Perhaps now, gentle reader, you can appreciate how exciting it is to live in an actual house. With different rooms, and a nice kitchen, and lightswitches, and a bathroom that isn’t shower cubicles on one side and toilet cubicles on the other. And a SOFA. Not an office chair, not a bed, a piece of furniture made for the sole purpose of sitting comfortably. I can wake up and breeze down the stairs like a Disney princess, twirl into the kitchen and then have my breakfast in there! Or recline on the sofa with my afternoon cuppa, never once having to time my teabreak to avoid making awkward conversation with people I barely know!

On the downside, I might actually have to do some work this year…

I am TERRIBLE at maintaining this thing. I’m like that friend who always promises to call and meet up then never does (actually I probably am that friend… only sometimes I hope and always unintentionally though, That makes it okay, right?) It doesn’t really help that I find wordpress confusing. Like when you finally do meet up with that friend but now they wear their hair differently and they talk about all these people you’ve never heard of and they order fancy half-fat-decaf-soy-mochachinos. Or something. 

Anyway. A promise. I solemnly swear to write something at least once a week. And I promise the next one won’t be about what a terrible blogger I am.

Now I remember why I’m terrible at blogging. I have nothing to write about. I could tell you about my amazing victory over everyone in the game of Munchkin we played last night but I wouldn’t want to blow my own trumpet. I could tell you about the incredible gig my band played on Monday, but again the trumpet of boastfulness prevents me from doing so. I could tell you about how much I’m enjoying reading Game of Thrones but my pure liquid excitement about it and the fear of revealing spoilers means I couldn’t cohesively write about it (all thoughts I would be capable of expressing would come out something like “OH MY GOD THAT THING IS SO AWESOME AND THEN THAT OTHER THING THAT HAPPENED AND OH MY GOD I CAN’T BELIEVE THAT BIT WHEN —- DOES —– AND THEN THAT BIT WITH THOSE PEOPLE AND THEN HOLY FREAKING HELL THE AWESOME MACAWESOMENESS OF THE” and then I’d have to stop because the Awesome MacAwesomeness of the thing is so Awesome MacAwesome it should be a surprise for everyone even though they didn’t put it in the series 2 finale like it looked like they might, which means people who aren’t reading the books may never know just whereabouts on the scale of Awesome Awesome MacAwesome lies! Hint: It’s near the top.) (Also writing about Game of Thrones apparently turns me into a raving lunatic. Or I’ve been spending too much time on Tumblr.)

And now having written about the things I wasn’t going to write about and in doing so stealthily sneaked my trumpet past the Smug Police I really am out of things to say. Well, perhaps not so stealthily. [Cue a triumphant trumpet fanfare]

 

Until about ten minutes ago I’d completely forgotten I set this thing up. Not the best start. On the plus side, my notifications are encouraging. Maybe I will become an actual blogger! I’ll be internet famous, I’ll score a book deal, I’ll write blogs on how to blog…

Or I’ll just entirely forget this blog exists every time I close the page, in the same way I can never actually remember walking down any stairs. (Walking up stairs I can remember fine, so there. My brain’s weird.)

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