Blue to grey, grow up and blow away...

I noticed today that I am completely covered in cuts and bruises from this job. I have pulled three splinters out of my hands this evening after spending the day sawing branches off trees, not to mention the bump on my head and severely injured shoulder I have from being knocked to the floor by a hyperactive 18 month old stallion yesterday afternoon. He's uncontrollable at the best of times, but yesterday he decided to kick me on the shoulder, tread on me and escape across the park leaving me with a nosebleed, calling for help on my walkie-talkie. I guess it's these incidents that make my job exciting and different, if also dangerous and stressful. The daily feeding and mucking out gets tiresome, but often we get to do things that are actually quite fun: vaccinating rabbits, painting walls, constructing fencing, pruning, planting bulbs, worming horses, carving pumpkins, grooming, clipping hooves. It's all useful and productive too. The downside is when I get home I've barely got the energy to stay awake, let alone cook dinner for my family, revise for exams and go to evening classes.

Going to university will feel like a step back: I'll be doing things for myself rather than for other people. I'll be a student rather than a worker. Worst of all, I'll no longer be financially independent. Going back to relying on my parents will be pure torture. And will a history degree actually lead to an interesting, fulfilling career anyway? I long to study something related to my job, but that's harder than it sounds. Especially considering I almost failed Maths and did substantially better in humanities than sciences.

I'm behind on all my courses, I'm struggling to get enough sleep and my room is in its usual chaotic state. The eyeliner I'm wearing is from yesterday, or the day before, and the only way I manage to do my job properly is by drinking the strongest coffee in the world every morning. But I have virtually nothing to complain about, because I choose to live like this. And it's not a bad life. I'm almost going to miss being a dishevelled, melodramatic farm worker living a stupidly eccentric lifestyle.

Perhaps university is overrated...

My New Years' Resolutions:

I will wash my clothes.
I will be on time for work.
I will be nice(r) to my parents.
I will spend less money.
I will do my homework.
I will not waste time.

To be honest, the above have been my resolutions for the last seven years and I still have little hope of keeping any of them. Less than 48 hours into 2007 I have spent most of my time sleeping, reading, procrastinating and miserably cleaning up the house in time for my parents' arrival this evening. Of all the house parties I have held, this one left the most mess. By far. People had thrown up on three different beds. There was ash and wax all over the kitchen and living room. Drinks had been spilled on every surface and carpet. Glasses had been broken. In was a disaster. Although after a couple of hours the situation looked alot less worrying.

I have managed to spend nearly £300 over the last two weeks. This doesn't include £100 rent plus the £65 that I owe my parents. I have no idea what happened to that money. I seem to have spent most of it on food and drink, yet there is still virtually nothing to eat in this house. Today I have eaten three muffins that Michael Gardiner left in my fridge and two tomatoes. All my spare change has mysteriously vanished (I'm convinced I was robbed by someone while everyone else was distracted by the New Year shenanigans) and I really really don't want to withdraw any money from the bank.

Despite this distressing situation last weekend was wonderful, and also incredibly reassuring. I still have friends and family and hope and inspiration. Even though I lack many things (organisation, self-discipline, self-restraint etc.) I am going to sit down and apply to uni and try and be a better person. Until I get bored.
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