Dear reader who’s accidentally stumbled across this dust ridden part of the blogosphere,
Sorry in advance.
It has occurred to me that there is a pattern. My last blog post is dated a year back. I write on this very sad blog only when I’m home for Christmas. Naturally I have realized I’m not one of those Christmas-y people. Or maybe I just don’t like it here and Christmas is the only time I’m actually here because the rest of the year I avoid this place like the plague. (Congrats if you were able to follow that sentence.)
Before I get on this bandwagon again, I’ll just stop myself right here. The internet doesn’t need anymore people being whiny bitches– or does it? One could argue this blog gets so little internet-traffic it makes no actual difference. I’d write anything if it wasn’t for my irrational fear of someone I know reading this. God. Imagine…Or rather not.
I guess one of the reasons I hate being home for Christmas is the fact that there is so little to do here, that I’m driven to introspection and self-examination. This is usually the time of year I reflect on this year fuck ups. And Oh-dear-Lorde has 2013 been the year of fuck ups. Though, it’s also been an amazing year. I went to Europe. Actually did pretty well in my studies. Made new friends. Finished my first degree. I have more money.
The fuck-ups are more people related. I screwed people over. People screwed me over (literally and figuratively). My grandfather died. I lost friends. I embarrassed myself.
I’ll rather keep things general for fear of anything resembling actual persons or situations.
The good thing about being human is that even though I fuck up, and fuck up badly, I can learn out of my mistakes. I have the ability to recognize the patterns. I, for example know now that if I imbibe to many Long Island Ice Teas it will inevitably lead to poor life choices. I can’t stress how poor. Maybe that’s growing up. Maybe that’s finally using common sense. I don’t know.