It's funny...

...how you can be in world full of almost 7, 000,000,000 people

...in a country of 51,000,000

...attend a university of 14,000

...be in a flat with 10 other people lounging in their rooms...

...and all cos of one person, you feel so alone.

Crisis.

I'm almost half way through the university semester now and, due to the law of sods, all my assignments and deadlines have been neatly compressed in the latter half of the term. So, as a gift, my mind has churned out a plethora of persistent niggles to make it just that little bit harder to concentrate. Currently, my mind is contemplating the very unlikely possibility that I win the lottery this weekend and have a few million to bulk out my pocket.

Then, of course, this leads onto fueling my need for travel.

Such as swimming with dolphins in Florida...

...a romantic weekend in Paris (sans dancer)...

...lounging on an Australian beach...

...or just walking along an exquisite island....

(she says, drooling onto the computer keyboard...)

All this does call into question my career choice. Obviously, becoming a writer isn't an easy task. Firstly, many harbour the same ambition. How is it possible for one to know if their work is good enough to even reach the kind of platform you dream of? Secondly, I am quite a lackluster person unless I have several creative pieces to work on, as my mind drifts easily. Therefore, freelance writing would be perfect, although is it likely to give me the financial stability to be able to jet off to some of the places I dream of? And lastly, the industry is quite a cut throat business; it's hard to get work experience, to get published, to get your foot in the door. It's hard to keep your mind on your dreams when you get knocked back. All of this just highlights the age old problem of actualising your dreams. I find it hard to wait when such impulses overwhelm me, but in order for your goals to be achieved, waiting and working away beneath the surface is often the only way forward.

Alas! I have started sessions of C.B.T. this week in Norwich, which I hope to be able to gain a different perspective on life. It seems my fear of death could suggest a love of life - but then I waste that life I have by just sleeping with depression! (note: an abstract entity, rather than an awkwardly named human.) I suppose I am quite an insular person. My insecurities mean I don't like to get too involved with friends or people I meet, in case they think my 'crankiness' drains life away from them. So I'm constantly in a cycle of: "I feel awful, and need to talk, but don't want to make anyone think I'm miserable". Sadly, my boyfriend often gets the brunt of all my worries and insecurities, which, as I've learnt in the past, only goes to show just how comfortable I feel with him. I suppose I craved structure during my Gap Year, and now I have it, I desire the mobility of travel and new experiences. I just have the mobility of the hips of an elderly woman right now.

Ambition.

Having just returned from holiday in glorious Rome, it feels selfish to admit I'm already looking towards my next great adventure! Whereas I once feared the smell and sight of anything remotely relating to an airport, I'm beginning to find the whole experience rather exhilarating.

Fortunately, there are still a lot of places I hanker to visit; the usual Australia, America, India, and then countries like Madagascar, Easter Island and Iceland where you could experience something a bit more unusual.

Rather unfortunately, I have no money, and am unlikely to for the foreseeable future.

In another area of my life, I have gained more work experience! In Easter, I shall spend 3 weeks at a children's publishers in Fleet Street, sorting through manuscripts and working with the writer and artists to create a picture book for the younger generation. This is something I haven't dabbled in before, so it will be fascinating to work in a different kind of environment! Plus I get to stay with my boyfriend in London for the duration of the placement, which is always a bonus.

Then in June, I shall be spending time working on The Sunday Times travel magazine! I thought this was a pleasing process of amalgamating my passions for writing and travelling, and, again, is a field I haven't really worked in before. (I once wrote a travel guide to Narnia, but I figure this would be inappropriate for a magazine in the real world.)

I have now completed the first semester of my university studies, and will return for a second dose of hell in a few days time. Not particularly looking forward to the following 12 weeks (which sounds like such a short time, but feels like a dragged out torturing method). However, I have things to look forward to, including my 20th, Valentine's Day, our 1st year anniversary, the Mother's 51st, gigs, etc...and another big date which is the worst date in the calendar, for very personal reasons.

Now to look at ways to survive: I always shrivel up and become quite inward when at university, which I enjoy to an extent, but not when it leaves me with time to mull over issues and worry. My boyfriend jokingly mentioned making cards last night, but I think I might just give it a stab - or at least a dying poke in a vain attempt to stir some creative juices.