Monday, April 22, 2013

Books are better than family.

In true Gemma style, I am currently reading a book about running, but not actually running. Which reminds me ever so much of fifteen books I own on Writing.

Is it possible, that my true talent has been brazenly staring at me, all these years, and I just never looked up?

I think it is.

My best skill (ooohh the suspense), is reading about things that other people just do!

How exciting!

I'm going to suggest to my boss, that instead of turning up to work from now on, it will simply suffice to skim through a few chapters detailing someone with a job.

And to that end, ask my boyfriend, if instead of investing time in our relationship, I can just borrow 'The Notebook' from the library. I'M JOKING - THE QUALITY OF OUR BOND PALES IN COMPARISON TO THEIRS.

The title of this blog is actually something I once said to my Mum, when asked to stop reading so much, and the cause of the only time I ever got grounded. Sharing this with you probably detracts from the crazy, troubled childhood you assumed I'd had. So I'd like to add that at one point (I think I was around 7), I only owned three ponies.

Would anyone like to buy a freezer? I'm serious. Let me know.

Linking in to the above sell - I'm moving to London, wahey! To live with strangers, wahey! Well, alright, Ginger Beard (bf) will be there, but we're practically strangers now. In fact, and I'm sure he won't mind me saying, the only thing we have in common is a desperate need to escape the suffocating noose of what once was our love.

Does anyone remember how to live with people you don't like?

It's just that there's going to be eight of us, and the chances of it being some kind of modern day Walton's are slim. I'm so prepared for battle, that I'm already pissed off over someone drinking my milk, and the the 2am drumming. Not to mention when I need the bathroom, and they're using the bathroom.


No, I don't think you can. Because unlike me, a student is something you were once, before you got a crap degree and extended your intake beyond beans. Not something you plan on regressing back to. But thanks to London. That's right, London, you fucking, extortionate, tube laden bastard, we can't afford to live anywhere but practically squashed into the armpit of another overdrawn, milk stealing commuter.

The only remote plus side, is how much material this less-than-ideal, shitter of a situation will offer up for my blog.

And I would probably be less in-advance angry, if I'd gone for a run, INSTEAD OF JUST READING ABOUT ONE.

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