So, it's been a while. I'm sorry. Really. The beginning of uni? Bad time to start a blog. I won't try to buy you off with old fiction this time though, promise.Where have I been? Well, due to recent heartbreak and a brief moment of insanity resulting in potentially unwise decisions, a very close friend of mine saw necessary to embark on a week of restabilization. How does one restabilize? Let me enlighten you. I shall chronicle my journey back to you. It involves a number of seemingly random activities that combine to return to you a reasonably bright and bubbly me. In the immortal words of the Wombats, "let me break it for you now".
Day one of my recovery was very action based. I was taken forcibly from my home to first a playground and second a botanical garden, in which we romped and frolicked until I was no longer wallowing. Then came the serious stuff. Fishing is amazingly therapeutic, I highly recommend it to anyone requiring de-moping. And yes, yes we did catch a fish. We named him Geoffrey. He is the double perfect. Also slimy, very very slimy.
Following the fishing extravaganza, my friend and I found a secluded beach, stripped to our underwear and ran screaming into the waves. I suppose you could view this as a cleansing activity. Moreso though, I think we just needed to do something crazy. Go for a swim in your underwear. Do it.
Day two, though off to a somewhat difficult beginning (the power being out made escaping our garage through our electric powered doors somewhat challenging) involved firstly a new haircolour. Vain and girly, yes? Nevertheless, altering my physical appearance proved surprisingly life affirming. Apparently, superficial works. Following my remodel came a run though the supermarket, an outdoorsy d&m and an evening of margaritas and dancing in pajamas. I was beginning to feel sane again. How ironic.
Day three began with a trip to a cafe, where, safe from the pouring rain outside, we consumed coffee, hot chocolate, nachos and fries until we were feeling delightfully guilty, before walking home through the torrential downpour and allowing ourselves to become utterly drenched. Along the way we had a slight detour into my primary school to enjoy the playground, before realising that there were small children at school and running for our lives. Upon arriving home we dried off and treated ourselves to chocolate, lollies and a Sex and the City marathon. Judge me if you will, but those women understand. At this point, my favourite counsellor took it upon herself to free us of our frustration at the world by waging an epic tree battle. What does this entail, you ask? Smashing things with big sticks, while yelling. We came back exhausted and satisfied.
Finally, today, we returned to our old school, for the inaugural academic honours assembly. The pleasure I derived from receiving my honours from the teachers who had believed me incapable of hitting the 90s, let alone above 95, was almost unbearable. I thus write to you as a non mopey, fabulously sane young lady.
Go do something crazy. Catch a fish. For me.
your "counsellor" sounds almost as insane as you ;)
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