My Mumbling Thoughts

So my lecturer really wasn't lying when he said that you need to write every day in order to exercise your words and keep a fresh mind about things. What a clever man. Too bad while I was actually at uni I never listened to him and therefore delivered nothing but shit stories that I thought of last minute and handed in two minutes before the deadline.

I still haven't had a call back from work so my days have mostly gone as follows:

8am - Wake up and check my facebook.
9am - Get out of bed and make breakfast.
9:30am - Climb back in bed and rest to "let breakfast digest."
11am - Convince myself to get out of bed and have a shower.
12:30pm - Make lunch.
1:30pm - Lay down for my afternoon nap.
3:15 - Wake up, have a quick afternoon snack and wait for Momma and Mel to get home.

And that's about it really. To be fair, in between I usually tidy up the kitchen and maybe my room if I'm feeling productive. Otherwise I don't do fuck all.

It's killing me. I am so bored during the day and I have thoughts about what I could be doing. Like I could be writing. I could be sorting my loan out so I can actually pay my fees for my second year of uni. I could get on Momma's exercise bike that she has downstairs and actually use it so I don't become some nasty schlub over the summer. I could re-organize my room since it could do with a proper clean.

But I don't. I find it too difficult to concentrate and instead I humor myself by watching TV or pissing about on the internet. I mean, I'm so lazy I can't even be bothered to go to the pool that is literally a five minute walk from my house. That's just too much effort.

Luckily I don't think I'm in a funk and my mood is generally positive. I'm just so unbelievably bored during the day. I keep on hoping that my job will hurry up with whatever is holding my paperwork back and I can get back to the office if only so I can have some regular human contact. That would be nice. I never thought I would take that for granted, but I suppose I did at uni. Somebody was always around, and if you ever were caught alone in the flat, you really cherrished those quiet moments. Now I'm at home and it's always quiet. If my music isn't turned on, all I can hear is the light buzz of the fans that are turned on and the beeping of construction trucks off in the distance.

My writing, though. That's one thing that's really bothering me. I didn't think I'd be struggling so much with the second part of my little story, but alas I find myself stuck on the same sentence that has been bothering me for the past two days. I'm sure I'm just overthinking things, but I want it to be good. To sound decent. To be slightly interesting. Before I even went to uni, I didn't have this problem and I thought even though I was writing about every day, mundane things it sounded half decent. Now I actually have a lot to write about that I consider partially interesting and I'm frozen. Perhaps it's the classic case of having too much too say at one time.

And even though I am stuck at the house, alone, with everything being absolutely quiet, I think it's good for me to have to sit by myself and properly think about stuff. I never got this kind of solitude at uni and I could have done with some while I was there. Now I'm back to writing more semi-regularly and whether it's good or bad, I like to think that I'm exercising my words. Hopefully something decent will come out of it.