I Got The Eye Of The Tiger

It seems my Sunday morning rant was just like a zit that needed to be squeezed. And I do feel better for squeezing it. As a result of releasing all that toxic poison I am now in a position to be proactive and sort the stuff out that I've been avoiding this past wee while. The first thing I did was place an advert for a new flatmate. I have someone coming to view it next week so that leads me to the next couple of things that need sorted. The bathroom floor that Ziggy kindly destroyed and the sofa that Meka kindly destroyed. I have my eyes on a new suite and the floor should be easily enough replaced.

I spent the morning with my youngest niece and oh how we laughed! It's been a tough couple of months but I am feeling much more like the girl I used to be and that, in itself, is a great feeling. When I have help with the rent I'll be able to afford driving lessons again. I'll be able to afford the odd night out with friends. The weight off my shoulders will allow me to focus on the things I want to achieve, like getting Freddy and the Fox illustrated, playing more guitar, hanging out with people who make me smile. The past few months have been all about survival. I survived. I'm ready to start living again. I'm ready to start spreading joy and happiness all around me, for it's so much nicer to make people laugh. And it's nice to know that I've dealt with things accordingly.

It's a well known fact that, despite my otherwise fantastic taste in music, I sometimes let the odd pop song into my life. I was called Britney by a friend at uni for years because I admitted to liking <i>Baby One More Time</i>. I sheepishly admitted to my dad in 1997 that I liked <i>Wannabe</i> be the Spice Girls. He sheepishly admmitted to me that he also kinda liked it. Now I'm going to share the current pop song that makes me red faced to admit I like but I don't care. You're gonna hear me ROOOAAARRR!