Here it is: The Roundabout.
In other news, hey guess what? I'm still normal. And I'm still in the house. My parents' house to be exact. But in less than a month I will be in my own house. My very own, three-storey, historic, legendary 4-bedroom property with my three she-wolves and I will be preparing for one last year in the place I've come to fondly (or not) refer to as The Bubble. But let's get real.
I am 21 years old, and having just finished not one but two once-in-a-lifetime internships, I still have no idea what I can practically do for a living this time next year. When I say I have no idea what I can"practically do" I mean that I know for a fact that I want to sing and make it my life's occupation, but whether or not this a practical option is another question. My attitude at the moment is "do it and think about it later"; this has been a motto of mine for a long time, as has "what have you got to lose?" and "you only live once", both of which I have got me into a lot of emotional trouble in the past and I am always one for thinking "it will be different next time". It never is. Maybe this recklessness is a good thing? You have to be just a little bit crazy to want a Bohemian lifestyle of uncertainty and shared bathroom facilities. As long as such a lifestyle comes with a stage, an after-party and an 8-hour sleep, it's definitely for me.
Till I can live that troubadour dream, I can stare at a suitcase that appears to have exploded; clothes are spilling out of that bad boy like the pink ooze that comes out of the tap in Ghostbusters 2. It's not pretty. My pub shift begins in T-123 minutes and I hope that The Box plays some good tunes tonight. (It's tag line is "All The Hits All The Time" and it had better live up to this promise. After a month of culture all I want to hear is Justin Beiber and Dizzee.) In my musically-overactive brain, I have plans to re-imagine some Bon Iver and La Roux tracks, an interesting combo, though I'm not brave enough for a mash-up just yet. I'll wait till Soul Food reunite till I get back into that mode of thinking. I'm still secretly hoping for that Don't Upset The Rhythm/Funky Town medley to happen.
I am 21 years old, and having just finished not one but two once-in-a-lifetime internships, I still have no idea what I can practically do for a living this time next year. When I say I have no idea what I can"practically do" I mean that I know for a fact that I want to sing and make it my life's occupation, but whether or not this a practical option is another question. My attitude at the moment is "do it and think about it later"; this has been a motto of mine for a long time, as has "what have you got to lose?" and "you only live once", both of which I have got me into a lot of emotional trouble in the past and I am always one for thinking "it will be different next time". It never is. Maybe this recklessness is a good thing? You have to be just a little bit crazy to want a Bohemian lifestyle of uncertainty and shared bathroom facilities. As long as such a lifestyle comes with a stage, an after-party and an 8-hour sleep, it's definitely for me.
Till I can live that troubadour dream, I can stare at a suitcase that appears to have exploded; clothes are spilling out of that bad boy like the pink ooze that comes out of the tap in Ghostbusters 2. It's not pretty. My pub shift begins in T-123 minutes and I hope that The Box plays some good tunes tonight. (It's tag line is "All The Hits All The Time" and it had better live up to this promise. After a month of culture all I want to hear is Justin Beiber and Dizzee.) In my musically-overactive brain, I have plans to re-imagine some Bon Iver and La Roux tracks, an interesting combo, though I'm not brave enough for a mash-up just yet. I'll wait till Soul Food reunite till I get back into that mode of thinking. I'm still secretly hoping for that Don't Upset The Rhythm/Funky Town medley to happen.
No comments:
Post a Comment