Fact. Speaking from experience, there is absolutely no enjoyment to be had from relentless moaning for either you or the others who are forced to listen. Neither is there any joy in reminding ourselves of how impoverished we are despite being citizens of the affluent West, how jobless we are, how humiliated we are to the core by having to complete a JSA claim form, the fact that we cannot encounter a man who’s thrilled to ply us with gifts or something even simpler, just appreciate that yes, we might be in a f*****ship with you but God forbid you have the audacity to remind us of the circumstance as that will somehow undermine our self-esteem. Whether we knew that was the reality in the first place, how dare you expect us to not feel spited? Add to that, failing to meet our expectations of admiration and love. (And gifts.)
Our problems inwardly seem so unfathomable in comparison to everything else that the answers aren’t even in our reach. They’re beyond us in cyber space so we hold secret consultations with Google typing in absurd questions on how to go about changing our lives. You want to find out the real ‘us’? Just take a look at our Google search bar history. When the friend referendums fail us, that’s where we, and by ‘we’ I now mean ‘me’, regrettably, turn to other more frank sources of advice that only serve to aggravate our melancholy. For me, that’s usually someone male as they do a great job of knocking you when you’re down with that tough love s***. They dish out plain unadulterated honesty – a bitter pill to swallow but necessary to ingest on a regular basis. Then as I love reflecting and performing self-psychoanalysis, I do the ego beating myself which leads me onto last weekend-ish.
So last weekend, some very uncomfortable revelations stopped playing hide and seek with me during a conversation I was having, as this is how most of my insights come to light. The main one is that I was displaying behaviors of a bitter bitch. Not as bitter as sour cow’s milk but something dairy like that. And uncomfortable revelation numbers 2, 3 and 4: I can be quite judgmental, have an air of superiority about me and am the slightly jealous type. When I say ‘type’ I don’t mean ‘type of girl’ as these characteristics aren’t exclusive to relations with the opposite sex, far from actually, what this relates to, and stems from is a much deeper sense of unfulfilment that during this period of my twenties, especially, is very awkward and unfair.
Now I actually feel a bit stuck in writing this as naturally my inclination would be to express more about the root of this unfulfilment, as after all, this is my own dramatic monologue, however, the title expresses that girls just wanna have fun and I, do solemnly declare, that I am positively gagging for some fun.
One of the joys that’s missing from my very occupied life, is excitement. Adventure. Stupidity. Hilarity. Spontaneity. Passion. The thrill has almost certainly gone but I question whether it was present in the first place or whether I’ve ever really known how to have fun with this stick thrust just so up my behind. My idea of fun is probably less elaborate than others as I take pleasure in the little things but last week it hit me just how little I’m having, and how few moments I’m creating and capturing. My grand adventure still awaits me but in the meantime, I have to put an end to living vicariously through others which I didn’t even think that I did but admittedly, I do – a lot.
Whatever your thoughts, let’s share, now the lid on Pandora’s Box is lying wide open. How do you have fun and keep every day fresh? Crazy ideas are welcomed.